Album Review: Pussycat by Juliana Hatfield

Juliana Hatfield has often seemed like a difficult artist making very agreeable music. She's had a complicated history, ups and downs with the media, a flash of stardom followed by something more like cult status. Yet, more often than not, the music itself is a bottle rocket of joy. Not that she writes happy tunes, exactly.

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Reacting to an event as emotionally polarising as last November's election is difficult beyond, at most, a handful of songs without losing steam and coasting into parody, yet Hatfield's made a 30-year career of creating and meeting her own expectations. While much of the music community's vitriolic response to the Trump administration has understandably been relegated to stand alone tracks, Pussycat is a flab and clunker-free 14-track mauling of the POTUS and his hangers-on from every angle which Hatfield can land a shot. Armed with her notebook full of Trump-seeking missiles, Hatfield grabbed nothing more than her gear, a session drummer, and an engineer and bashed Pussycat out in under two weeks.

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The current resident of the White House will likely inspire plenty of angry art during his four years time in office. Credit Boston indie-rock institution Juliana Hatfield with landing the first full-force blow. Pussycat is a relentless, unabashed and unvarnished reaction to the Trump presidency; a frequently gruesome, sometimes funny and even occasionally hopeful assault on the assaulter-in-chief.

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It was supposed to be the moment Donald Trump lost the election. Republicans bolted by the dozens, rescinding their endorsements and calling for him to drop out. Paul Ryan uninvited him to a rally. His own party chairman denounced him, and even Mike Pence, perhaps the most unwavering of all of Trump apologists, seemed to tease the possibility of turning on his running mate.

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