soccer mommy Live at the queen margaret union

By Ilene Krall

The first Soccer Mommy album I fell into, Color Theory (2020), was tinged with the sickly yellow hue of anxiety ridden love. With lyrics like, “there’s mould in my brain spreading down all the way through my heart” (‘Circle the Drain’), or “I am fake it till’ you make it in a can” (‘Royal Screw Up’), this album mimicked the painful confessionary records of their earlier projects. Soccer Mommy’s first three albums had quintessential indie-pop features: a leading guitar overlaid with synthetic pop sounds, and an unrelenting aura of self-doubt. 

With the release of their most recent album, Sometimes, Forever (2022), a recycling of similar themes and tones was expected. But, as many artists do once they establish a fan base, Soccer Mommy stepped beyond the bounds of their earlier projects. Though Sometimes, Forever begins deceivingly with familiar qualities, by the third track (‘Unholy Affliction’) insecurity turns to redemptive anger; it’s an anger that meanders its way through the album to find newfound confidence, demanding a voice. 

So, walking into the dimly lit room of the University of Glasgow’s student union - after paying five pounds for a pint of apple cider that had all the apple and none of the cider - I was unsure if the oddly chosen venue or slightly smaller crowd would serve this anger well. The muted sounds of the Glasgow-based opening band, Susan Bear, did little to ease this worry, but the leading keyboard alongside Susan Bear’s somehow gritty yet soft voice set an appropriate tone. As I stood surrounded by leather jackets, short hair, and nose piercings, Susan Bear’s alt-pop sounds certainly suited the audience that waited quietly for Soccer Mommy’s set, though perhaps did little to turn anticipation into excitement. 

As though mirroring this atmosphere, Soccer Mommy began almost cautiously; but with each track, the tension heightened, gradually airing out the subtle indifference of the crowd. With ‘Circle the Drain,’ Soccer Mommy finally brought the audience to life, as the drums, guitars, and keys coalesced into a wall of satisfying release. The lead singer’s quiet introduction, “and I’m Sophie,” was the start of a mournfully defiant hour of music.   

The magic of this gig, however, was summoned by drummer Rollum Haas, who proved mastery of his craft by driving every song, every lyric, and every pause into the audience. With his pink Ralph Lauren button-down and puckered lips, Haas lifted up his bandmates, bringing Sophie Allison’s lyrics to life by underlining each moment with a resounding clash of the cymbals or rolling expertly through the toms. Haas’ performance was the kind that can only be so viscerally experienced when done by a passionate artist in his element. 

In fact, by the middle of the set, the subdued sounds of Soccer Mommy’s opening tracks were long since forgotten, as each band member supported one another in equally matched skill and fervour. Though I found myself wishing for even more desperation and intensity to match the powerfully honest themes of Soccer Mommy’s songs, the band’s obvious passion for performance demanded that the music be heard and enjoyed. 

By the end of the night, Soccer Mommy was exactly as I had hoped: devoted to the honesty of Allison’s lyrics in a way that eventually allowed the crowd to submit themselves to the sorrowful twangs of her guitar. Soccer Mommy’s gig reminded me of the power of live music - a show of obsession met with control - to inject vivacity into familiar songs. As my friend (whose house warming party I missed for this concert) said, “you make friends, and then they leave you for some indie concert.” And yeah, I’d do it again.