M(h)aol - Something Soft

Something Soft, the second full-length album by Irish post-punk firebrands M(h)aol, is anything but. From the first note of its propulsive opening track to the distorted cries of its last, Something Soft feels antagonistic to the very concept of softness—sonically and thematically—taking an unapologetic approach to intersectional feminism, animal welfare, consumerism, and the struggle to find a place in a world lacking empathy. What M(h)aol offers is catharsis in two forms: the kind you get from being open with others and the kind you get from righteously smashing some shit up.

Effectively channeling rage and empathy is an act of resilience, and to make Something Soft, M(h)aol had to become especially resilient. Following their acclaimed debut Attachment Styles, M(h)aol’s lineup changed, settling on the core trio of Constance Keane (drums/vocals, she/her), Jamie Hyland (bass/vocals, she/her), and Sean Nolan (guitar, he/him). That process changed the band’s approach to songwriting and performing, resulting in an unexpected breakthrough where many groups have folded.

Something Soft features a more urgent sound, wound tightly around Hyland and Keane’s rhythm. On songs like “Pursuit” and “Snare,” Keane’s vocals lock in on her drums, as if her words were stirred to life by her playing, issued directly from her body. Set against those respectively anxious and swaggering tracks, her voice occupies the space of an inner monologue—narrating a tense walk home and green room misogyny from a place of droll observance—a universal experience rendered in specific detail.

Like its predecessors Attachment Styles and the Gender Studies EP, Something Soft was recorded by Jamie Hyland. It is the most technically nimble of M(h)aol’s recordings to date, with the band—joined by Pixie Cut Rhythm Orchestra’s Sarah Deegan on bass—decamping to Dublin’s Ailfionn Studio, where they took advantage of the space and studio equipment to bring more nuance to their sound. The additional sessions and prowess behind the boards were a boon, but for a band used to operating under extreme time constraints, this presented an unexpected challenge: Could M(h)aol keep the sense of immediacy that had marked their music up to that point?

Songs like “DM:AM” quickly dispelled that worry, blooming into life in 20 minutes from a drone Nolan was playing while Hyland set up her recording equipment, racing to capture the song once Keane and Deegan joined in. One of Something Soft’s ghosting anthems, “1800-Call-Me-Back,” began as a joke that the band should write a football chant, but it became far more complex—the delicious balance of chaos and clarity they struck would have been impossible without time. “I Miss My Dog” is less off-the-cuff, but its meditation on grief builds up at a breakneck pace, from feedback to Keane’s drumming and singing to a spectacular conclusion that smothers that grief in bass and guitar—one of M(h)aol’s greatest technical achievements to date.

The polish serves to highlight M(h)aol’s roguish charms, making the intimate feel anthemic, using personal experience to detail the broader systems we live under. For those who’ve come to recognize themselves in M(h)aol’s songs, listening to Something Soft is like jumping into a long-running chat thread, full of fury and humor. For those who haven’t, the door is open—Something Soft’s thrills often turn on a dime towards introspection, as in “Snare” where Keane’s response to the question, “Why not play something soft like piano or violin?” resolves itself to one of her own: “Did you ask him too?” It’s not a lecture or a snide rebuke but something much more deft—an invitation to see the world for what it really is, starting with the listener.