Content Warning: This story contains content regarding addiction.
When people ask me to place Remi Wolf’s music in a genre, I usually go with “girlboss-techno hyper-pop.” Occasionally, I’ll offer “post-internet rainbow funk.” She probably falls somewhere in between.
Wolf’s new LP, “Juno,” released Oct. 15, is dripping with the eccentric, colorful personality she epitomizes. As proven in her last two EPs (“You’re a Dog!” and “I’m Allergic to Dogs!”), Wolf knows how to use the world of audio production and distortion to its full headbanging potential. This thrilling expertise (and a touch of vulnerability) powers the 13 tracks of “Juno.” The whole LP is evidence of knobs turned all the way to the right, and it’s a total blast.
Wolf is a rising star with supernova artistry. She sports a vibrant, maximalist style (on her Instagram account, you can find her dressed in highlighter-yellow dresses, rainbow-fur Cossack hats or bejeweled plastic sunglasses). Her album covers look like glitched-out, oversaturated kaleidoscopes. This maverick boldness is central to her music, which she has said aims to “erase the rules of pop.”
In “Juno,” Wolf leads many of her songs into the loud and crunchy land of the musical avant-garde. Tracks like “Sexy Villain” feature solos from overdriven electric guitars. Sounds of shattering glass, camera shutters and sirens punctuate the bridge of “Guerrilla.” With a scream-belting vocal performance, she steers the end of “Front Tooth” to the edge of cacophony.
To balance that reckless free-spiritedness and maintain a certain palatability requires great skill. That’s why Remi Wolf is so good: She can dance far out onto these limbs of audio distortion without losing her audience or that central, animal groove.
Sometimes her characteristic far-out-ness can be estranging, like when she monologues in a high-pitched voice at the end of “Quiet On Set.” (“I’m a little baby,” her digitally altered voice whines, “And I went to the store with my mommy.”) But such is her craft — if she didn’t lose us occasionally, it would be a bad sign.
Though its opening and closing tracks are more vulnerable, “Juno” spends lots of time leaning into simple joys reminiscent of far-out Internet meme culture. In the track “Grumpy Old Man,” Wolf sings:
“I got long hair, long beard, turtleneck sweater / Got that long hair, long beard, turtleneck sweater / You got short hair, short beard, nothing feels better / Than me and you and me and me.”
Is she dissecting the nuances of human nature? No. Are you bobbing your head? Absolutely, you are!
Sometimes, Wolf’s heart-rending emotion seeps through the thick synth beats, taking you by surprise. In “Liquor Store,” the opening track, she sings about her past struggle with alcoholism over a crunchy electric guitar and a punching drum beat.
“In the song, I’m talking about my sobriety and codependency and my fear of being cheated on,” Wolf told BAZAAR.com. “It’s honestly such a personal song to me.”
Wolf closes the LP with “Street You Live On,” a rich and earnest finale.
“I avoid the street that you live on/ You’re a magnet pulling my feet and my head off / And I scramble my brain / Wasting away / Looking for ways that I can avoid you / To pull the weeds, suck the venom.”
Her voice, multiplied and layered, settles into a more tender place in the album’s last minutes. In an uncharacteristic twist, she lets the song fade into silence — unusual for someone who usually builds to such psychedelic musical climaxes. It’s a wildly poignant choice, both a departure from her usual explosiveness and a brave, knowing reminder that she’s always one step ahead — this time, it’s a step toward a truer recognition of her personhood.
Wolf’s music is like a surprise party: sudden, disorienting and totally euphoric. Every track on “Juno” is fun, groovy and danceable, even when she sings about her hidden fears and failures. Ultimately, Remi Wolf is no less than a pioneer, reminding us of both the pain and the unhinged joy that can be found in the hyper-digital world of tomorrow.
Edited by Lucy Valeski | lvaleski@themaneater.com