Hold THE GIRL: RINA SAWAYAMA AND THE PAINS OF OVERACHIEVING

BY ABENA OPPON

Rina Sawayama’s journey to mainstream pop girl status has been atypical. In an interview with PopBuzz, she shrewdly answered accusations of being an industry plant with: “sis, I’m thirty-one; whoever tried to plant me did not do a great job!”

From 2013 until the successful release of her debut full-length album Sawayama, she has been “underground.” Her first charting single in the UK was a 2020 collaboration with Elton John, a remix of the previously released ‘Chosen Family.’ Now, Sawayama leads the full popstar life: she sells out arenas, showcases performances with costume changes and intricate choreography, and collaborates with big-name artists (most recently Charli XCX on the interpolative ‘Beg For You’). 

On her sophomore album, Sawayama turns inward to address how her turbulent childhood has impacted her adult self. Pulling handbrake turns and dialling the amp up to eleven, it seems as if Hold the Girl touches upon every genre in existence: Garage (on the titular track ‘Hold the Girl’), Pop-Rock (on ‘Hurricanes’), EDM (on ‘Imagining,’ which fails to reach the lofty heights of its inspiration, the legendary ‘Katy on a Mission’), a sort of Adult Contemporary (on ‘Forgiveness’), Country on (‘Send My Love To John’). Even that list does not seem to do justice to the expanse of this record.

This list reads similarly to the genre-mashing-and-bending present on her debut. On both — in all her work — Rina Sawayama pushes her songs to their capacity. The near-perfect execution of sheer maximalism garners her attention and praise and, as a woman in her thirties pushing through an ageist industry, she would need to be near-perfect, or her younger peers would be seen to outshine her. 

When one transcends expectations in the way Sawayama has, eventually one faces limitations, as the bar cannot be raised further.. Paradoxically, what many loved about Sawayama many now consider suffocating on her second album Hold the Girl. It was only a matter of time before “an expansive musical account” (as said by Hannah Mylrea for NME) became an “excess of initiative” (as Cat Zhang writes for Pitchfork). There is a narrow margin between style and surfeit, and Sawayama now frequently keens towards the latter to the point where songs lose any subtlety. The songs ‘Frankenstein’ and ‘Holy (Til You Let Me Go)’ exemplify this. 

Dark and rich, ‘Holy’ rebukes the religious guilt imparted upon Sawayama in her youth. It is cathartic and explosive, but unfortunately also overproduced. It is not a matter of poor arrangement, but simply harsh processing; listening to the track  is like being hit with a wall of sound. Once the chorus arrives, the song is never relieved of intensity. Through sheer force it is magic the first time you hear it, but the sheen of the initial impact wears off quickly. However, the track certainly works as a club banger, compelling you to thrash to the soaring, heartbreaking hook:  “I was innocent when you said I was evil.”

Contrastingly, ‘Frankenstein’ is slick and conceptually neat. A steady bassline and a propellant beat provided by Matt Tong (ex-drummer of Bloc Party) puts the song on full-throttle until the end. The creepy arch-shaped melody of the post-chorus, and self-aware mixed metaphors pertaining to Sawayama’s over-reliance on her partner to “put her back together,” combine to produce a song that does not overindulge in its best qualities, and so does not overstay its welcome. 

It’s difficult to nail what makes ‘Frankenstein’ work and ‘Holy’ slightly fall flat, considering they contain a similar earnest vigour. But therein lies the question: on a record as personal as this, should the critic or the audience demand immaculate execution of painful topics? 

Rather presciently, Sawayama addressed the commodification of her own pain through music on ‘Snakeskin,’ the final track  from her debut. Building on the themes of capitalism and overconsumption established on ‘XS’, she likens her art to “expensive, exclusive pain wear”. Listeners can adopt her past suffering for their own enjoyment, but then disengage whenever they wish. Sawayama cannot; she must live with it.

Now that Sawayama can be afforded the space to be personal and a little messy, the audience baulks. Audiences are fickle. It is hard to digest that, once ground through the content mill, the funky remains of her pain are not pop-machine flawless. Earnestness has always been a part of Sawayama’s brand, and honesty is rarely compatible with flair. Sawayama is not the first artist to dub her album “the most personal yet” and be met with blank stares. 

Rina Sawayama deserves to grow as a person without the caveat of it impacting her reputation, but raising a topic in your art, no matter how personal, makes it fair game for critics. When an artist produces  discography considered flawless, any misstep to potentially botch that perception is not taken lightly by fans. Fans run the risk of losing their self-righteousness, and their claim that the artist they stan is the saviour of pop music. Notions of “never missing” are meaningless. Notwithstanding, to take great pains to overachieve is to limit your progression. You cannot rise without eventually hitting some kind of ceiling, and if you dip, you do so to speculative jeers.