REVIEW: Mollie Elizabeth’s ‘Petty Crimes’ Are Justified On New Single
REVIEW
REVIEW
☆ BY ASHLEE PALMER ☆
Photo by Sophia Schrank
ALT-POP’S MOLLIE ELIZABETH IS ON A CRIMINAL STREAK OF SINGLES—“Petty Crimes,” the cherubic chanteuse’s latest offering, is what muffled cries for help sound like when they begin to raise the roof. For fans, the glimmering self-reproach of Marina and the mythologised hedonism of Luvcat mingle in a sepia blur.
The best of Elizabeth’s work is that which disturbs the comfortable and comforts the disturbed, a service all songwriters should strive to provide. Over time, Elizabeth has clawed at the vintage glamour that saturates her Old-Hollywood oeuvre; lace wears dilapidated, and sparkly smiles twist with carmine. “Petty Crimes” furthers a spiral forged by previous singles “Dog Eat Dog” and viral TikTok hit “Run Rabbit,” crafting a villain arc of feminine tribulation. Gramophone strings imbue the pre-chorus of “Petty Crimes” with idiosyncrasy before bassy, mischievous brass punches down. Despite her hellward surrender, Elizabeth’s mindscape remains primordially and perpetually cinematic.
A quaintly foreboding ostinato of “dum-diddy-diddy-diddy” underscores the track for almost its entirety, the first verse enshrouded in both low hums and trepidatious soprano. Walled by all apertures of Elizabeth’s range, the listener is shoehorned second-hand into Elizabeth’s crowded cerebrum, and desperation for escape is divulged as ubiquitous. Elizabeth’s vocals are equally honeyed and haunting, filtering the clarity of musical theatre through trembling doll parts.
A penchant across her discography, Elizabeth often writes in mosaics; details are breadcrumbs trailed meticulously to something more insidious. The song’s chorus fashions the portrait of a dilettante with urban offcuts: “she’s always running red lights / stop signs / sneakin’ out at midnight / bedtime.” Elizabeth proposes last resorts like an assorted box of chocolates, shaking, propagandized to believe pain must be externalised to be considered legitimate. When the only laws humans can break are those that humans themselves have invented, eponymous petty crimes pose a tempting mitigation. A gradual reprieve, the daintily debaucherous undertones of Elizabeth’s penmanship capitulate to and refreshingly reclaim the role of culpable minx that the world has dangled threateningly before her: “outcry, got to be the bad guy / oh my!”
Women are all too often subject to a fallacy in which it takes hitting rock bottom with a cacophonous, fracturing bang to be heard at all, and hence “by design, she’s traumatized.” Stereotypes of emotional volatility unjustly coupled with the feminine can confine people’s trust to what’s plainly tangible, disregarding invisible needs. Elizabeth’s own cautionary tale details a case of medical malpractice. The song’s bridge pulls this rabbit out of the hat, as Elizabeth trills “Doctor, doctor, please tell me that it's physical / It's such a shame that no one believes that it's real” with psychosomatic vibrance. Ultimately, “Petty Crimes” captures the universal plea to be adequately seen and understood, cradling the uphill battle in an upbeat, whimsically morose ballad. If proof is in the pudding, then a little indulgence can’t be so bad, can it?
