Off With Her Head is quite a violent expression – as is anything that invokes the imagery of decapitation. However, for singer-songwriter BANKS, it is one of liberation, of freeing oneself from the mental labyrinths of regret and self-judgement. It is perhaps this album’s mission statement; allowing the singer to release her most vivacious and extroverted album that doesn’t dull her sharp edges. From murky electronic-R&B sounds, to gossamer balladry, to airy dance music, the album lacks cohesion but shows a lighter, more adventurous spirit. Working with some of the same collaborators from her debut album Goddess, Off With Her Head is a confident reinstatement of the artistry that has given her such acclaim and her versatility with new sounds but with a tendency to, perhaps appropriately given the album’s title, cut things short.
Her cold wit glints through on lead single “I Hate Your Ex-Girlfriend”, a bass-riffed rumble that builds into a glacial dance crescendo. In brutal fashion, Banks calls out her partner’s ex without pulling any punches beginning with an iconic “Set this bitch in motion / She’s emotional.” If you thought that was callous, she gets even more direct in the chorus asking “Someone [to] help her little basic face and tell her that she’s holding on to nothing.” Doechii, naturally, elevates the song with her feature snarling in anguish “I hate you bitches / I’m misogynistic!” before using some murderous imagery to hammer her point in (“Put a toe-tag on you like a French tip / Wrap a bow ‘round your coffin like it’s Christmas”). This collaboration is snappy, gleefully mean and although – as will prove a criticism across a lot of songs on this project – disturbingly short, still manages to be a good indication of BANKS’ biting humour.
Other songs in this vein include the classic-sounding and catchy “Delulu” which has viral potential – not necessarily for its usage of a Gen-Z colloquialism but because it’s fun, quotable and self-deprecating. In such a short amount of time, she manages to explore the horrors that most of us have probably encountered in our own lives: modern dating. Building upon a production of her manipulated vocals (a feature quite prominent on this album that recalls her older stuff), BANKS attempts to rationalise a misleading man (“Said he just needs some time to figure who’s to love and who’s to mess with”), playing the campy, tortured romantic martyr. It contains one of her funniest lyrics of all time: “My therapist just quit me / Said she got tired of saying the same thing / Saying the same thing / Every week,” she growls before punctuating it gleefully with “Fuck that bitch though she don’t get me.”
The classic BANKS emerges on “Love Is Unkind”, which utilises darker synths, skeletal beats and her discerning anger to build a treatise on the addiction of toxic love and someone who has been “tripping on the sidelines”. This song does sound the closest, in the most complimentary way, to an offering from Goddess in that it’s a sort of icicle to the heart when retrospectively looking at an ended relationship and realising things were never quite right.“What can we say for ourselves? / Went to Hell, then to Hades and back, never stopped,” she sings, showcasing her innate sense for strong melodies. It’s a great song that reinforces why this project is considered a sister album to her debut.
BANKS’ softer side shines through for some of her most gentle tracks yet – ones that give glimpse into the heart beneath the imperious exterior she puts forth in her music sometimes. For example, the muted strings and piano of “Stay” are solemn and built around a simple refrain of “I feel so lonely”. It expresses the post-fight exhaustion (“Can we let it go? Cause we got more lives / I was being insensitive, I told ya”) and need for closeness after such disagreements. It’s a lovely song about apology and connection with a deeper pathos beneath relating to how hard it is to be alone with ourselves and our thoughts.
Similarly, the heartbreaking “Best Friends” finds the singer mourning the loss of a close friendship over a contrast of soft guitar and strings against her raspy vocals; a combination very reminiscent of her song “Mother Earth”. Over this solemn, subdued soundscape, she sings about their clashing perspectives (“Said I was “lucky for forgiveness / I didn’t feel like you had something to forgive”) and how all this did was lead to their demise. Although some sentiments have been overused in music such as singing how they “never fit in”, it is still an effecting track about the painful friend break-up.
The project sometimes takes some surprisingly dance-oriented turns like the runway strutter “River” which is an affirming empowerment anthem. “You’re gonna show them here tonight, here tonight…/ You’d be the best pussy of their life, of their life,” she sings over the stuttering beat. Alongside this is the sexually charged “Direction” which grooves and undulates in all the right auditory spots (“Shoot me the serotonin / Ooh, my soul seduced / Should’ve come with a warning / Now we can’t undo”). Following this, the abrasive, unorthodox, electronic collaboration with Sampha, “Make It Up”, finds the pair playing ex-lovers who decide to give it another try (“Tired of the time apart / Nothing lost but something learned / Whatever it is, we’ll make it work…”). These type of songs prove to be the album’s most colourful cuts and, despite their experimental nature, are just as earnest as the darker tracks on this project.
The masterpiece of this project, however, is the baroque-R&B (that could be a thing right?) track “Meddle In The Mold”. Over theatrical, urgent strings and piano, BANKS sets the stage to mockingly lash out at a lover who fears a substantial connection beyond the sexual – despite being so paradoxically confident of himself that he “chews [his] gum with [his] scissors on the run”. With cynicism, she narrates meeting someone by an elevator and alluringly hoping that they alight on the same floor. However, such rom-com conventions are quickly twisted as she gets to know this person more, becoming more dismayed. She paints a grotesque picture of vampirism and one-sidedness that the “relationship” becomes: “Spit in my circle ‘cause you know me / I let you feed me on me ‘cause you’re wounded” and alludes to being part of his lovers “quota.” The melody of the chorus is a highlight, showcasing BANKS’ aptitude for fast-paced delivery that she previously demonstrated on songs like “The Fall” from her masterpiece III: “Brick! / You picked up my call! / When I climbed your wall, you brought your stick!” The final chorus, where the beat thunders through, is satisfying and urgent that even when she repeats the lyrics, they feel more emphatic and angry – a proper crescendo. “Cause you run around / Meddle in the mold” is perhaps her poetic declaration that this man is so toxic he embodies a harmful bacteria. This song is a complete standout not just on this album but her whole discography from the vicious storytelling to the orchestral music that slices through the production smoothly like a knife through brie.
Off With Her Head is a fun, devastating and empowering listen that is not perfect, nor necessarily BANKS’ best project. It does, however, possess a vibrance that makes it a unique addition to her discography even with the callbacks to earlier sounds and collaborators. What can be established is that, even five albums into her career, BANKS still surprises and delights with her unique lyricism, emotive vocals and direct assessments of those who have hurt her alongside herself as an individual. Still, many tracks are damned short and feel like they are lacking necessary bridges to reach their full potential that this album feels quickly consumed and fleeting when we want to stay inside these songs a bit longer.
