Ailbhe Reddy’s music has always existed in that scrappy, liminal space where problems seem to originate from. The Irish songwriter has a keen ear for honing in on that moment where things seem to turn sour, or where long-burning emotions stem from. Reddy has described her music as a form of therapy in the past and it has manifested itself in this way: cathartic purges to try to exile or just understand the overwhelming emotions.
On Reddy’s new album, KISS BIG, there’s a shift in focus. This is a break up record, but one that exists in the messy moments right after a separation. It’s a document of trying to find new context to exist in without the presence of another. “It’s about the aftershock of a breakup,” she explains. “That liminal space where you’re equal parts sad, hopeful, terrified, and probably a bit delusional.” Compared to her previous albums – 2020’s Personal History and 2023’s Endless Affair – the tone is more contained and remorseful. A different focus also comes with a slight change in decor: synths dress many of the tracks here, creating an insulated and sometimes embryonic feel.
It suits for the purpose: KISS BIG opens like the embers of a fire, arpeggiated synths trickling like rainfall as goodbyes are made. “I guess I’ll see you / Live your life… I know we’ll somewhere, somehow / Align,” Reddy accepts with a reigned-in optimism. The album exists in what feels like a confined, secluded space, a small slice of devastation, depression, and sorrow in action. On the intimate title track Reddy fingerpicks an acoustic guitar as she addresses fresh wounds before a surge of ghostly voices and strings appear in the bridge. “Dead Arm” has her asking for rejection (“Say something cruel so I don’t adore you / Throw it in my face / Call it stupid / Call me a mistake”) to help process the break up while “Gorgeous Thing” has her blaming herself (“How do I ruin everything? / When you tell me you love me, I say nothing”).
It’s the album’s frankness that is perhaps its greatest asset. Nestle in with it and it can feel like you are right there with Reddy, a friend who is grieving in real time. It makes the moments of purgative noise all the starker: the shriek of energetic strings, drums, and voices bursting from the pitter-patter of synths on “That Girl”, while the scratchy electric guitar solo on “So Quickly, Baby” feels like Reddy clawing at and climbing up the walls. Final track “Crave” is arguably the most sobering track though. Inspired by the one-act play of the same name from British playwright Sarah Kane, Reddy spills out long verses of spoken word memories over pensive organ notes. It’s a dissection of desire, a deluge of all that came before; it’s all the memories to hold onto, all the different ways that love manifests, be it in tiny everyday details, stolen glances, throwaway conversations, or half-forgotten details. Thoughts come and go, some trailing off, but as Reddy sings the title in a starry-eyed tone, the meaning is clear: the heart will always keep wanting.
And for there to be want, lust, and longing is healthy. It’s part of the emotional recuperation that Reddy captures on KISS BIG. It’s an improvement on the more general sentiments that ate up a lot of time on Endless Affair, honing her skills by narrowing the focus. Some songs do swim about in the middle ground, but encapsulated as a whole, they fit neatly. It’s Reddy using her skills to mine into that messy space when it’s at its absolute messiest. There’s no uplifting resolution but with breakups there rarely is a neat tying off of it all. It’s accepting that the memories will exist into the future – but accepting is part of the healing process. Wavering between denial, yearning, and frustration, Reddy shows us on KISS BIG that the only way to get over it is to go through it all.
