After almost a decade of alt rocking as one half of Girlpool, Harmony Tividad is hypnotising longtime fans and attracting a whole new following with a debut EP dedicated to stellar pop. In her first release since the indie duo amicably parted ways in late 2022, Harmony makes the growing pains of going solo look easy. More than just easy: Dystopia Girl, out August 25th, stays sexy, scummy and glittery in all its feminine glory.
Flirting with a synth-y ecstasy and a sonic texture reminiscent of crinkly, puff-sleeved 80s prom dresses, the five-track EP places Harmony in a constructed world that feels positively new; light like blue eyeshadow and whipped cream on a Starbucks frappe, but not lacking in substance. A newfound optimism comes through in glossy dance-pop that nods to her influences — expect traces of Madonna and hints of the cult classic visual worlds of David Lynch, Paprika and Perfect Blue — across mesmerising melodies. “Some of the songs are pretty dark, but there’s a hopefulness or a wish present in the music,” Harmony says.
The lyricism that drew fans to Girlpool’s scrappy honesty is transmuted into a tracklist whose titles read like a set of modern day affirmations: “I am so lucky and nothing can stop me”; “Good things take time”. The surprise of Dystopia Girl is this comfortable confidence. Appearing on a Zoom call from her bedroom in LA, Harmony beams, “It feels like life is just the most creative thing to do. It’s constantly feeding you magic, if you’re looking for it.”
It may be her solo debut, but Harmony’s experience and evolution through the lens of Girlpool is a lucky thing for listeners, for whom Dystopia Girl’s intuitiveness comes through in her approach to songwriting, producing and music video visuals. The latter flesh out Harmony’s world, wherein girls in the mini-est skirts play Dance Dance Revolution and gleefully steal shit from Best Buy. Harmony herself cheers them on in manic delight and a corset that reads, in airbrushed curly little-girl font, “EVERYTHING IS REAL.”
Is it? In the opening lines of “Angel Kisses” Harmony intones: “You’re boycotting reality / so you come into my dream.” If her dream is the dystopia, we’re down for it — meeting in a place where subtly dark laments are low-voiced love ballads, where the freedom to be annoying eclipses the traps of narcissistic materialism. It’s pure pop: dreaming of the next dimension, but already being the new world it fantasises about.
Harmony, what have been the best parts of going solo?
It’s very funny and inspiring, and there’s a lot of levity and silliness but also self-introspection and exploration happening. I really like where I’m making work from, which is where I’m most comfortable: toying with the absurd and the absurdity of being a serious person, but also someone who understands nothing is that intense or serious. But it’s also been intense because usually I have someone by my side being like, “Yeah, this is good, this is the right thing.” I have people in my life who are helping steer the ship, but they’re not invested in the same way that I am, so it’s a little different but liberating. I think the more you can surrender to things and give yourself away, the better, so I’m working on that; it’s an ongoing process.
That all comes through in the music. The levity and the seriousness — there’s a mystical aspect to the combination. I read that lyrics come to you in dreams?
The mysticalness is funny because there are such tangible references for everything I’m writing about. But the mysticalness comes from the fact that I just view reality in a very fantasy-driven way. It feels like life is just the most creative thing to do. It’s constantly feeding you magic, if you’re looking for it.
The EP sounds fantastic — the first feeling I got listening to it was that I’m at an 80s prom and we’re slow dancing, but in a glassy, glitchy, beautiful way. Do you write from a place that’s rooted in reality, or does writing bridge a gap between reality and fantasy?
I mean, 80s prom is the inspiration for everything I live for in my life, like I would do anything to have existed in the 80s, honestly. It’s so over the top in a lot of ways, but I live for the music and the sounds and the textures and vibes that happened. I just love how unapologetic it was.
The songs are super rooted in my reality, but my perspective on life is very whimsical and I feel like nothing feels dry when I look at it; it feels very alive and layered, that there’s a spiritual underpinning to everything, even materialism. It’s from a place of reality; it’s just that my perception of reality… I seek out things that are fantastical and kind of outsider-y. It makes me feel free, freer to look at those things. Like, you can look at a Nike store or anything else, and there’s whimsy and joy and bizarreness to be uncovered, you know? That is what drives me — wanting to look at things from a place that makes me feel more comfortable in the world.
Is your solo writing process different?
The dream thing doesn’t usually happen, and that kind of kicked in with this music, which was interesting. Ideas have popped in my head before that then become full songs. It’ll start with a lyric that’ll just come to me. There were two songs that came to me from being asleep and then waking up; just being like, “I need to write right now”: the opening line of “Angel Kisses” and the chorus of “Good Things Take Time.”
And what’s the genre shift to pop been like for you?
It’s something I’m still exploring. I haven’t performed with it yet, but I’m excited to explore that. It feels good to be talking about things in a positive way. My writing for so much of my life was centred around my feelings of depression, anxiety and dissociation. Those are still present, but these songs are not leading with that, and I like that. There’s something potentially within reach, like “Angel Kisses.”
When I wrote it, it felt so removed from me. I was moved by it, and I understood the superficial, obvious value of it — the desire to be loved by someone else. But when I was reflecting on it over the past two weeks, I was realising it was not only by someone else, but being loved by yourself. The “angel kisses from the next dimension” seems like it’s the dream of someone else kissing you, but really, it’s you claiming yourself. That’s inherently bringing you more love. I had uncertainty about that line, like, what am I even talking about? I was thinking about changing it, but the more I ruminated on it the more it felt like the right thing.
It’s my favourite on the EP I think.
Really? That one means so much to me. There’s this duality in the song, your desire to be loved and to be seen, and your own self-rejection, how that impacts your relationship with another. The lyrics are funny: the taxidermied daydreams. It’s BDSM-referential, but also romantic — I had this weird vision of being a taxidermied person in someone’s house, and how they can make you ideal and you can live there forever. There was something disturbing and comforting about that at the time, of being made into an ideal, and not having to think about what I am anymore. That’s so creepy and disturbing in a way, but it’s this natural thought. As a feminine person and presenting woman, I’ve been processing the housewife ideal since I was born. I was obsessed with the Stepford Wives, and what the ideal woman and mother is. The song settles into dreaming of a life where you don’t have to want those things because you love yourself, and that love brings you something that’s naturally good for you. After writing that, it seems like I manifested something like that.
The song is about the desire to own yourself, but the hesitation to have the responsibility to do it at the same time. It’s a doozy.
Are you a romantic?
I wish I felt more romantic. I love feeling romantic, it’s just easy for me to fall back to earth. I believe in magic, though.
What was the last magical thing that happened to you?
Oh gosh, it happens all the time; it’s an endless thing of magical experiences. Just when things freakishly align and you’re like, “That is not natural.” But magic is so natural. It feels so crazy, because you’re like, how is that even possible?
It really enriches the experience of being alive so deeply if you’re open to feeling the magic. But you have to be in a place where you’re vulnerable enough to accept things as such, I think.
What was the last item you shoplifted from Nike?
Oh my god. I have never shoplifted from Nike, but… [laughs].
It’s a joke question because I feel it acting as this sort of fantasy idea in the song, but it’s such a funny line.
I was in a session with my friend Wyatt [Bernard], who worked on everything, and our friend Austin [Corona], who played all the guitars on it. I’m really annoying about lyrics, like if I’m in a session with someone I don’t want them writing it with me, honestly; I’m over in the corner like, “Please don’t talk to me and let me do my thing.”
I had written a line about Winona Ryder, and I was like, “Is this weird guys? ‘You could be just like me / shoplifting from Nike?” And they were like, “I kind of like that.” It has a vibe. This is coming from somewhere within me that’s unexplored. That song is weirdly vulnerable.
I’ve written so much music that’s like, “This is my heart, this is my soul!” But I haven’t written anything that’s me on materialism, or, me at the mall being a little mischievous bitch. Or exploring my relationship to money — it’s complicated, for everyone it’s complicated. That song is especially vulnerable. It came out and I was like “Why is this so intense for me?” It’s so much deeper than I realised.
There’s so much of the album that feels like a persona: “I’m insufferable” or “I’m annoying.” But in a way of making that a tolerable statement, or taking it in stride.
Completely. It’s natural to justify our behaviors by being self-deprecating, and saying, it’s natural for everyone to have bad traits. So it’s weird that we feel that we have to justify them. [laughs]
What are you looking forward to with this project?
It’s been fun building a visual world that feels absurd and silly and serious. It’s cool that I feel so well-equipped at this point in my life to create things. When I was starting Girlpool, it was exciting but it was a lot to put together and construct. With this, I’ve had such an eagerness to build a sort of 80s-modern, absurd, pop-y thing. So when the time came, it was like, “Oh I’m ready.” That’s what’s fun about the videos — these ideas come to me — that’s it. I’ll follow through on that, and it’s the most rewarding experience. It’s so deep: I know what I have to do and this is the path.
It’s been healing for me, writing and making these videos. The more you can have confidence in your ideas, which is a very difficult thing to do as a person, but the more I do it, the stronger that muscle of intuition and self-knowing has become. That’s the most rewarding part — the process becoming easier but more revealing at the same time. It’s so deep and beautiful.
Credits
Photography Ashley Markle
Special thanks to James Veloria