Peaceful as Hell is the last Black Dresses album we're going to get for a while, possibly ever. Back in May, the deviant digital duo Devi McCallion and Ada Rook announced that they were calling it quits, citing "harassment." I can't comment on the actual controversy's details, so if you are looking for hot goss, I've got nothing for you. I became aware of the band's existence randomly via the spooky machinations of the web. They sprung into my Twitter feed during the summer like a pop-perfect imp, cast-off from what feels like the rippling underside of a twee-twisted Shub-Niggurath, writhing in the black-box belly of the internet. I, therefore, have no first-hand perspective on, or inclination to investigate, the fan interactions that lead to the band's demise. I do think, however, that Black Dresses was on to something with their music and that their break up says something about fandom in the internet age. I'm going to try to elucidate what I think I'm seeing as lucidly as possible while talking about Peaceful as Hell.
For starters, Peaceful as Hell feels uniquely wonderful in the way that only a direct to Bandcamp release can. It has the raw, digital-DIY feel of a Hausu Mountain release, paired with the proto-hyper-pop charm, boundary agnostic ethos, and limitless liminality of an underground diva like Sir Babygirl, with an antagonism you could expect from Fire-Toolz's Angel Marcloid if she started an pop-punk adjacent project in the vein of Reggie and the Full Effect. It's one of those albums that seems to create a universe in the space of a single bedroom, or condense an entire language into the single, a-tonal spasm emitted by a midi. It's also, as I said, extremely relatable in its assessment of what life is like living in the dark reflection of the internet. Given all this, it's really not hard to understand why people would so intensely identify with the statements and moods of Black Dresses's music. And its, unfortunately, this intensity of response that I feel was their undoing and why the project had to be deep-sixed.
The world is a miserable place right now. There aren't a lot of opportunities to improve one's standings or prospects. The wages most people can earn, even when they're privileged enough to find work, won't even begin to cover the expenses necessary for survival, let alone the investments needed to thrive and build a future. It's a situation that drives many into hopeless debt traps in a bid for a better life. College, credit cards, pay-day loans, you name it. The powers at have the means of transforming just about anything into a fiscal bear-trap. At the same time, there are very few civic or social outlets for genuine human connection and any political activity one could engage within an attempt to improve their circumstances seems destined to fail and to dissolve into a reputation eviscerating, circular firing squad. So people retreat into isolation and the spectacle of the internet, where they pour out their misery in the form of tweets and tik-toks, all of which profit corporations who have a vested interest in people only living their lives in a way that they can mine for data that helps them compel people to stay logged on, perpetuating the cycle of isolation. Despite all our rage, we're all just rats, trapped in a maze of skinner boxes. And it sucks. It sucks a lot. And it sucks a lot even if you're not battling with trauma or mental illness. Which if you are, there really isn't much difference between this world and a literal hell. Some artists are very good at picking up on the experience of this perpetual process of social and economic immiseration, and I think Black Dresses is comprised of two such individuals.
Peaceful as Hell begins with "LEFT ARM OF LIFE," an enervated tumble of synths and sirens, about falling down, and picking your bloody face off the pavement and stumbling forward despite the pain. Then things get weird with the desaturated, crystalized honey-bass of "DAMAGE SUPPRESSOR," that winds an elastic melody around a maxed-out electronic beat and shattered piano riffs, a perfect primer for the Grimes-esque, electo-pinpricks of "ANGEL HAIR" and the chip-tune meltdown and eye-liner smearing sear of "MiRRORGiRL." The latter track has a pretty explicit theme that is revisited again, and again, throughout the album. That theme being, the sense of losing one's grip on themselves while dissolving into a mania induced by the painful stimuli that punches through the surface of one's reality. Life throws a lot of unbelievable BS our way and it can turn one's life into a version of that magic trick where swords are shoved through a sarcophagus from which the lovely assistant is meant emerges unscathed. Only, in reality, every blade splatters your guts all over the floor of the box and you're expected to walk out like you're making your entrance at the Emmys, dragging your large intestine behind you like a stubborn pet chihuahua. The theme is further developed on the trash-compacted, Superchunk-syphoning, mental mutilation matinée "IM A FREAK CUZ IM ALWAYS FREAKED OUT," and the turpentine-streaked, rock ‘n slam, obliteration party "EXPRESS YOURSELF." The title of the former, more or less speaks for its self, while the latter is one of those portraits of an artist style pieces that will not leave you envying its subject.
Lastly, the band's most focused statement appears on the indie-bass anchored stroll and midi drizzle dream of "CREEP U," which offers Black Dresses's most acute statement of pain and dissatisfaction, a depiction of what it's like being a girl in just about any social situation, and how hard it can suck. The song is a deluge of numbing paralysis and intense emptiness that is disarming, to say the least, especially when the beats and melody begin to twist off the rails and dissolve into glitter pierces of flammable plastic during the bridge.
It's pretty clear that McCallion and Rook have a good handle on what it's like to live in the present era and a thorough enough grasp of their own talents to be able to translate their thoughts and emotions into some effective electronic pop music. The fact that others feel their pain, though was probably what ultimately drove a stake through their soft, beating hearts. And it goes back to what the world we live in is like now, and how many people are struggling to tread water in it. When people feel like they're downing their going to try and grab on to anything stable they can get their hands on. If that thing happens to a piece of art or an artist, then they're going to try and hang on to that thing or person as tightly and as ruthlessly as possible, even to the point where it feels like both are going to sink to the bottom of the sea. As anyone with a cult following will tell you, the scariest part about success is the attention that comes with it.
The attention and adoration that an artist receives can quickly sour into animosity for any number of reasons. Fans can claim to feel betrayed by the artist due to a perceived violation of some ethos, either professed by the artist themselves, or projected onto them, and call outs ensue. Or fans can become jealous, dangerously so at times, when the artist attempts to shield their private lives from fans, or fails to meet a fan's expectations in terms of access or validation in some other way. Because the world is a miserable place and the internet is part of the world, we can expect the internet to be an extension of the misery we find elsewhere. When people find something good on the internet that helps them relieve their pain, they're almost guaranteed to smother it with their admiration. Black Dresses was a really interesting, innovative, and insightful band, and I think their demise may be a parable for the internet age- the moral of which is that being internet famous can ruin your life. So don't put anything someone might like on the internet, ever.
