No one has had, or can likely ever have again, the career trajectory of Poppy. To go from an uncanny robo-doll on YouTube to one of the foremost female representatives of alt-metal is basically non-replicable, no matter how much Poppy herself seems to want to distance herself from that pipeline. Her current work is not only unrecognisable from those first couple of albums, but the inkling of what used to be isn’t even there. This year’s Empty Hands is her fifth album in the alt-metal style, far enough in to dismiss this as a gimmick or an experiment. No, evidently, this is music that Poppy wants to make, and that people want her to make.
Regardless of its qualitative ups and downs, it’s only become more ironed out over time as Poppy has found herself legitimised in modern heavy music. Grumble if you want (people have and will continue to), but at least it’s a position being used for good. It’s easy to fixate on Poppy’s aesthetic and performative elements and leave it at that, rather than how her reach has been extended to uplift others in the scene. If that weren’t the case, you’d have the usual carousel of TikTok-sprouted edge-girls supporting, instead of some cool metalcore bands deserving of the platform.
Fox Lake, while acknowledging TikTok’s own role in their profile, certainly have more to offer than just Freestyle as a one-off. Their cavalcade of Stray From The Path-esque poundings remains pretty consistent throughout, subject to sometimes-wonky vocal mixing that Nathan Johnson finds no issue in powering through. When you’re packing a song called Pure Adrenaline, that’s kinda the standard you need to meet, after all. And with the rapcore meat at their disposal (with special mention going to Zach Swafford and the slam of his bass), Fox Lake really do play a blinder. “We’re your cardio for the day,” declares Johnson, aware of the heat and effort exerted from both sides of the barrier. Dog Eat Dog plummets; Excessive Damage is two-step-ready; Gaslight…is dedicated to Paleface Swiss, for whatever reason; it all lands. Amid all of that, the ease and confidence of Fox Lake never falters, deservedly so.
A good few leaps upward from that, though, land Ocean Grove. No shade to Fox Lake whatsoever, but the apex of an exuberant glow within alt-metal isn’t lightly contended with. It’s in the smallest matters, too, like when frontman Dale Tanner—already permanently beaming—comes out with something as simple as “Back in Australia, we like to have a fun time.” For Tanner, that manifests in spins, jumps and air-punches, soundtracked by a grungey metal concoction that’s dense but notably euphoric. Hell, RAINDROP is basically alt-metal shaped into a sweaty rave cut. Screams also come out when needed like on MY DISASTER, though you won’t find those moments topping the blissful quickstep of Ask For The Anthem, or the banging, colour-pumped closing pair of JUNKIE$ and FLY AWAY. The only thing resembling a misstep is the stodgy ballad LAST DANCE; otherwise, Ocean Grove are golden.
Nevertheless, this is one of those bills where the presence of anyone but the headliner might as well be immaterial. Yes, there’s a lot of love for both Fox Lake and Ocean Grove, but when the glittery mic stand is brought out and the opening tape declares “You are now inside the house…the house of Poppy”, the idea that anyone else might squeak out something more memorable is out the window. If anything, it’s all engineered for that to be the case. Here’s Poppy, the visualisation of a sound loaded with idiosyncrasies as she contrasts metal moves and fraught screams with the frilly gown she’s wearing. On top of that, she’s joined by anonymous, masked musicians in stage blacks, if you couldn’t tell where any and all attention should be directed.
To be fair, it’s not like it isn’t justified. Poppy is unfailingly magnetic as a presence, even with a lot of her uncanny weirdness (even from earlier in her metal days) isolated entirely in her sweeter speaking voice. Instead, there’s more a technical showcase to be wowed by, where mid-song switch-ups seldom miss. Scary Mask is the first major one, stitching its gauzy slowdowns into big, bouncy metal hits that always leave a crater in their wake. In general, you spot just how much variety there is in Poppy’s catalogue that mightn’t always get its due notice. In a genre that’s become as spirit-sappingly homogenous as alt-metal has, a simple kick in tempo like with Public Domain or crystallized is an actual godsend. As far as more blunt, singalong-ready cracks go, the center’s falling out and Time Will Tell have those covered too, even if the latter is as clear a showcase of Poppy’s limitations as you’ll get tonight. She can’t soar as high as its chorus demands and, thus, winds up a bit shrill, but the effort to try is not lost.
If there’s anything to be gleaned from a set like this, it really is that effort. Nothing about this reads in any other way than true desire coming out; the want to deliver a great alt-metal experience is here. It helps that Poppy is not only capable of that, but she’s almost hotwired her way to getting there. There’s a commandeering energy she brings to Anything Like Me through a nonchalant sway. Directly after, have you had enough? has the beginnings of her wielding the mic stand like a weapon to really pin down the song’s groove. Even V.A.N. later on is given a much-needed personality infusion, to where you’d never believe it’s actually your typical Bad Omens slog.
At the centre of all of this, Poppy shines most as a screamer, arguably where her current artistic persona is most tactfully sketched. Dexterity counts for a lot, which she definitely has, but there’s always a thrill to these nervy vampire shrieks coming in on a sixpence, demolishing the girlish visual that Poppy cultivates. It’s most apparent on Empty Hands, the set’s pinnacle of heaviness culminating in a silhouetted, pig-squealing Poppy that might be worth the price of admission alone. That single moment could probably put paid to assertions of not being a ‘serious’ metal artist; most of the time, the actual ‘serious’ ones aren’t leaving you with an image that striking. Rather, Poppy’s unconventional beginning has conflated into the main mainstream metal path, and she’s simply going about it in a way that lets her succeed. Even if some screws still need tightening, it’s plain to see why the enthusiasm and admiration is so potent. After all, in this lane, there’s no one quite like Poppy.
Words by Luke Nuttall
