BY: JESSE ZAPATERO

Paris Paloma's debut album “Cacophony” is a powerful testament to her ability as a songwriter and artist, showcasing her distinctive voice and thematic boldness. Emerging from the quiet landscapes of Derbyshire, Paloma has crafted an album that refuses to be overlooked. Cacophony isn’t just a collection of songs; it’s a deeply personal, intricately woven narrative that challenges, provokes, and ultimately resonates on multiple levels.

Paloma first caught the public’s attention with her viral hit "Labour," a track that rages against the inequities women face in their relationships and society. It became an anthem for feminist frustration, amassing millions of streams and solidifying her as a voice of her generation. That song serves as a thematic cornerstone for Cacophony, but the album as a whole goes even further, delving into themes of death, patriarchal oppression, mental health, and personal liberation, all wrapped in a lush alt-pop sound that feels both ancient and modern.

The opening track, “My Mind (Now),” sets the tone for the album with its chaotic and visceral energy. Beginning with a near-incomprehensible acapella verse, Paloma gasps for breath before unleashing a whirlwind of synths, bass, and trumpets. This is not music designed for passive listening; it demands attention and engagement. Paloma's voice, at once commanding and vulnerable, anchors the song amidst the surrounding storm of sound. It’s an audacious start, and the rest of the album follows suit, balancing moments of intense emotional release with quieter, more introspective passages.

One of the album’s standout tracks and my personal favorite, “Boys, Bugs, and Men,” encapsulates Paloma's knack for marrying heavy themes with accessible melodies. The song traces the evolution of misogynistic behavior from childhood cruelty to adult violence, painting a grim picture of how deeply ingrained societal norms can be. Yet, despite its dark subject matter, the song is carried by a breezy pop sensibility, a juxtaposition that Paloma handles with ease.

The contrast between light and dark continues throughout Cacophony. “Last Woman on Earth” is perhaps the album’s most harrowing track, where Paloma confronts the notion of finding peace in death, only to reject it in favor of a more macabre wish—to have her body fed to animals rather than be exploited even in death. The song’s stark, haunting atmosphere is punctuated by her delicate yet unflinching lyrics, making it one of the album’s most memorable moments.

Not all of Cacophony is rooted in such heavy themes. Paloma shows her lighter side on tracks like “Drywall,” where she flips the stereotype of the overly emotional woman onto a volatile man. The production throughout Cacophony is rich and varied, with Paloma and producer Justin Glasco creating a soundscape that is as intricate as the themes the album tackles. From the ethereal, echoing vocals of “Pleaser” to the raw, stripped-back instrumentation of “Triassic Love Song,” the album offers a range of sonic experiences that keep the listener engaged from start to finish. While some tracks, like “His Land,” may overreach in their ambition, most of the album strikes a balance between complexity and accessibility.

Triassic Love Song stands out for its sheer beauty and simplicity. Inspired by the fossilized remains of two prehistoric creatures locked in a final embrace, the song is a meditation on love and connection that transcends time and species. It’s a quiet moment on an album filled with big, bold statements, and it serves as a reminder of Paloma’s ability to convey deep emotion through her music.

Paris Paloma has created a debut that is as complex and multifaceted as the woman behind it. It’s an album that doesn’t shy away from difficult topics, yet it does so with a grace and thoughtfulness that sets it apart from much of today’s alt-pop landscape. Paloma’s voice—both literally and figuratively—is one that deserves to be heard, and Cacophony is a compelling introduction to an artist who is just beginning to find her stride.