Mediocre

Growth—it’s a word that has defined the last 50 years more succinctly than any other. Our economy has systematically embraced a growth-at-all-costs philosophy, sending average people into financial tailspins. So you unlock your smartphone for respite, only to be met with self-aggrandizing displays of productivity and consumption masquerading as self-improvement. The pressure to grow—often in meaningless ways—is everywhere, which is all the more alienating for wide-eyed twentysomethings who have their whole lives ahead of them, but see little more than a hamster wheel of society’s false promises.

Mediocre, the Los Angeles-based rock duo of guitarist/vocalist Piper Torrison (she/they) and bassist/vocalist Keely Martin (she/her), offer their own growth-centered meditations with their debut album Growth Eater, as they seek comfort in an increasingly uncomfortable world. While these fresh-out-of-college musicians fear imminent dystopia, the record is less about broad existentialism and restlessness and more about how that angst spills over into daily life. “Litterbug!” wrestles with the anxious thoughts that trash our mind, “Stepping Stool” attempts to conjure the rich imagination of our childhood, and “Fun Time Fix (We Go Go)” chronicles blissful, albeit fleeting, flashes of communal distraction. But the album’s thesis actually arrives in the blustery opening track, “I Might Be Giant,” in which Torrison gracefully sings, “Cross my heart and hope to die / We’ll be one with the garden in time / As our bodies decline / We’ll be back where we started.” While the record understandably flirts with nihilism, this statement is actually a rather soothing paradox and a full-hearted pitch for hope—why not use your mortality and relative insignificance as motivation to cultivate life-affirming moments and connections instead of letting those things crush you?

It’s been a long road for Mediocre, as the band formed when the pair were high school sophomores, first jamming in Torrison’s garage and later gigging in West L.A.’s DIY scene. Now Torrison and Martin are graduates of UC Santa Cruz and Emerson College, respectively, with two EPs under their belt—2020’s no-frills Emotion Sickness and 2023’s bubbly, vigorous To Know You’re Screwed—and a forthcoming first LP that’s brazenly lush, endlessly exhilarating, and by far their most fully realized musical project to date. After writing songs during their overlapping one-year stint in Boston—inspired by the cerebral pop arrangements of Tegan and Sara’s The Con, the clean, poignant vocals of Jenny Lewis, and the yearning, hopeful indie rock of Broken Social Scene—Mediocre joined drummer Jake Pavlica and producer Danny Nogueiras (Together Pangea, No Win) in his Glassell Park studio with the goal of playful experimentation and with more confidence than ever. They emerged with a searingly thick power pop record that darts between unexpected sounds, from the ‘00s dance-punk grooves of “Fun Time Fix (We Go Go)” and the kalimba-laden, Elliott Smith-esque swirls of “Interlude” to the self-immolating final guitar solo that ignites and then flames out, closing the record on a surprisingly calm note (“Kindling”).

Just as blistering guitar lines devour themselves on Growth Eater, its lyrics were written with voracious imagery in mind. The album title can be understood from numerous lenses, like the harmful ways we eat away at ourselves, and by extension, our own opportunities for growth, or even the positive ways we sever bad habits that feast on our well-being. According to Martin, the concept can even be visualized in a more fantastical sense, like a living creature-meets-steampunk contraption à la Howl’s Moving Castle that indiscriminately subsumes everything in its path—both good and bad—which represents acceptance in the face of an inevitable, almost omnipotent force. However they eat growth or however growth eats them, best friends Piper Torrison and Keely Martin are just looking for something to hold onto as the world constantly finds new rugs to pull out from underneath them. But such is life, and in Mediocre’s case, at least they’ve got timeless pop hooks for days, a mutual love and respect, and a special creative partnership worth going to bat for every time.