The sibling duo’s follow-up EP spikes their off-kilter pop with new darkness, adding atmospheric balladry to their glorious racket

From South London
Recommended if you like Charli xcx, Confidence Man, Klaxons
Up next UK tour starts 21 April

If this was April 2008, Punchbag, AKA south London siblings Clara and Anders Bach, would be headlining an NME tour alongside Alphabeat and Frankmusik, while the Popjustice forum would have hailed them as the new face of “wonky pop”. The sonic calling cards of that ramshackle iPod-era micro-genre – off-kilter, unvarnished electropop piled high with myriad other genres – were streaked across Punchbag’s debut single Fuck It. A sweaty riot of 90s rave, maximalist bass and Clara’s spit-soaked vocals, it felt tailor-made for soundtracking an awkward snog on Skins. Last May it was joined by three other frantic bangers on the duo’s debut EP, I’m Not Your Punchbag, the highlight of which, You Used to Be So Sexy, sounds like a GarageBand-produced the Veronicas had they grown up in east London as opposed to Brisbane.

(Geffen)
On this giddy first taste of the US pop star’s third album, she sets aside her rock bona fides to revel in the opulent flush of a crush-come-true. But why does it seem so doomed?

Is there anything better than an ink-fresh pop lyric so nailed-on that you can’t believe 60 years of songwriters didn’t get there first? Or like, at least 20, ever since Googling crushes became an entirely normal component of modern romance: “One night I was bored in bed / And stalked you on the internet,” Olivia Rodrigo sings on her comeback single, a casual admission with its own innate melody destined in turn to stalk listeners’ brains all summer. Her perfect couplet heralds an ecstatic chorus about the giddy terror of getting exactly what you wanted, exactly how you wanted it, and barely being able to breathe or stifle puking: “The most alive I’ve ever been / But kiss me and I might drop dead!”

Acute, obsessive, unsparing songs about romance, always with a self-aware handle on their intensity – or a wink at how lovestruck girls get labelled “crazy” – have become Rodrigo’s trademark. (She calls her benign form of online stalking “feminine intuition”.) Now 23, she broke out as a pop star in 2021, after a lifetime as a Disney Channel fixture, and pulled off one of the quickest, most effective and indelible acts of redefinition of any musician to emerge from that entertainment monolith. (Even her pop peer and fellow Disney alum Sabrina Carpenter took five albums to find success on her terms.) Rodrigo’s debut single proper, Drivers License, was an epic heartbreak ballad, though the sticking points of her debut album, Sour, were the pop-punk ragers. She convincingly translated that into her second album, 2023’s Guts, which drew on the influence of her mum’s riot grrrl records; she scored mentorship from St Vincent, brought the Breeders to support her on tour and got the Cure’s Robert Smith to duet with her when she headlined Glastonbury in 2025.