Daughter of Lonetones’ bandmates wows with lush, vital indie-pop
The current crop of undergraduates in Middle Tennessee State University’s recording program may not be aware that they have in freshman classmate Willa McCollough a founding member of one of Knoxville’s most popular bands and a sonic auteur with a self-produced LP under her belt, but they do. The original member of The Pinklets nowadays performs under the moniker Willa Mae, the name which graces her mature full-length debut “Kids,” a dynamic collection of indie-pop recorded when McCollough was 17 years old and released in late 2020.
The album is a piece of sonic art – a pop gem – and is potentially the best album released in Knoxville last year. It also is epically Generation Z in every way.
“I’m a little bit embarrassed about it, actually,” McCollough demurs, explaining the record feels too pop to her now after a deep dive into “badass female rockers that I definitely want to be,” like Angel Olsen. McCollough likes to “rearrange it to make it more punk-rock” when playing out with her rock band Dean’s Dream.
“These songs I kinda collected over my high school years,” she says. “And I had a ton of songs in GarageBand that I was recording, and I chose which ones I put on the album with no super theme in mind. But that being said, it ended up being therapeutic. It’s kind of like an ode to my childhood growing up in Tennessee, an ode to being young. I think in times like this, especially, it’s very easy to be angry like this, but we’re all kinda like kids: We’re all just trying to survive this in a way.”
Speaking of the ubiquitous pandemic, McCollough and others of her specific graduation year share the singular distinction of being the first in a century to have the school year ended prematurely due to pestilence. There was no prom, sports and romances were hampered. They moved on to eerily quiet college campuses or started work life in a mask. The suspension of activity at the most heightened time of a young person’s life was a major dilemma for McCollough and her friends, she says.
The silver lining?
“I almost feel guilty for saying it’s almost been an eye-opener,” McCollough says, setting her maturation meter to hyperspeed. “My friends and I have had a lot of realizations. This super intense year has forced me to have all these realizations at once.
“My friends and I have gotten super cynical in a way, so it’s probably forced us to grow up a lot faster. It’s taught me how to be alone, how to be my best friend and that is a skill.”
McCollough is still living in Knoxville, in her first place on her own as she takes classes online through MTSU. For raising her right musically, she credits her upbringing with musical parents Sean McCollough and Steph Gunnoe, longtime members of The Lonetones, as well as Kevin Abernathy, beloved Knoxville musician and father of her bandmates in The Pinklets.
“My mom is an insanely talented songwriter and musician that I look up to a lot, and we’ll often have conversations about this and her similar experiences,” McCollough says when asked about entering the music scene as a young woman with enviable skills and big ideas. “I have grown up going to see my parents play live a lot, and my mom talks about these same feelings.”
On “Kids,” the lyrical themes and sonic tones perpetuate an exhilarating vacillation between anxiety and exuberance, melancholia and joy, romance and scorn for those who make it unduly difficult, and the album includes some incisive commentary on gender relations.
The album opens with “Intro,” a haze of chillwave beats and effects-laden picking with McCollough speaking about her ongoing moods in a neutral tone. It shifts to feature voicemails from friends and family that paint a picture of both the exciting and mundane details that weave through the lives of young adults coming of age.
The title track and “‘99” both bust out of the gate with slick, dynamic, layered indie-rock with sharp pop hooks. They feel like a thesis for the rest of the album, as they look at the world through the schema of confused but determined youth.
Other notable tracks include “Cat Got Your Tongue” and “Next Mistake,” a pair of chic, sleek rockers with sticky chorus hooks and wonderfully precise language regarding some of the nuances of young relationships.
“Alligator Man” astutely puts a lyrical finger on the pulse of the endemic of toxic masculinity McCollough hints is a damper on her fun. Playing in an all-girl band once, sweating it out through songs they’d worked hard on, she recalls not being at her happiest to hear a male audience member describe their act as “cute.”
“The Internet Taught Me How to Feel” is perhaps the most digital native-themed title in the bunch, but the song itself doesn’t come off twee or precious in any way. It is a mature rumination on this new way the past few generations have been socialized wholly differently than all before them.
“I truly believe we are a generation of creatives ready to fill in the gaps where previous generations couldn’t,” McCollough says. “It’s a weird feeling because it’s not something you can exactly turn to older generations to get advice on. We have to figure it out ourselves.
“This has been a harsh reality for me to come to terms with – and something we will all have to deal with for the rest of our lives. While I definitely have a very cynical view of it, I try to stay hopeful that humans will get better at treating technology as a tool or creative outlet rather than a need. Perhaps Gen Z can be pioneers of this and help future generations learn how to manage living in the age of the internet and make wise decisions that keep our mental health as the main priority.”
Beyond coming of age, realizing her incredible penchant for production, McCollough remains humble.
“I feel more grateful,” she says. “I can attest to that definitely.”
brogden@blanknews.com
