(CW: discussion and mention of international and interracial adoption and allusions to racism, transphobia and homophobia.)

When the couple he left his kid to is revealed to be lesbian, the father becomes upset and spends the entire play trying to get his kid back, eventually with the help of Ryan, a relation to the couple who doesn’t like the “new Korean boy, who is a bit weird.” While this is all true, the director’s note highlights the nuances — that this is a story about imperialism, settler-colonial violence and the realities of interracial adoption and family.

I’ll be honest, I didn’t think I would get to experience “Wolf Play.” I forgot to get tickets and figured I would need to wait for a review, probably from a friend with a better memory than mine. Then, when I walked a friend to the show, I stumbled upon the only time that hadn’t sold out and was asked if I’d like to see it. Who would say no to a free show? So, we checked in and grabbed our seats only a couple of minutes late. I picked a spot next to a seat with “RESERVED” on it in bold letters. I remember feeling a pang of sadness over that seat where there should be a loved one. This seat is important later on, I promise.

“Wolf Play’s” set was in Alumnae Auditorium rather than the Ruth Nagel Jones Theatre, which created a more intimate setting because all of us — the cast, the crew, the audience — were on stage. There was a boxing ring in the center, seating on three sides and two more scenes on the fourth. The set, designed by Audrey Benford ’27, was amazing to witness, especially when multiple scenes, including an additional one in between two audience sides, moved at once, forcing the viewer to actively shift between them.

However, given the name of the play, it should be no surprise that Wolf stood out, especially given that this role was the theatre debut for Darcy Kim ’24, who acted immaculately. Their costume (by Maura Whalen ’27) and makeup (by Sancha Gonzalez ’25) immediately set them apart. Jung writes that Wolf is “a mix of the familiar and terribly unexpected” in the character list, which Upstage achieves beautifully. Of course, the fact that the Wolf is the consciousness behind Pete Junior, or Jeenu, who is played by a wooden puppet, offsets this — in a good way!

This dichotomy between Wolf and Jeenu provides a tangible sense of the dissociation and helplessness Wolf experiences throughout the play. We get a bit of playfulness through the improvisation the role allows, with Wolf asking questions, making eye contact and reacting to what characters are saying around puppet-Wolf with emphatic head shakes, all directed at the audience. One particular moment that stuck with me was when they observed the audience, a reversal of watched versus watching, and gave a skillful eyebrow raise toward the whispering people behind me until they quieted, as if Wolf was a teacher asking a student if they had anything to share with the class.

This dynamic is established from the start, when Wolf asks the audience, “What if I said I am not what you think you see?” What if Wolf is not “an actor human,” what if you are the “most important person in [their] space” and “what if you believed [them]?” Alternatively, what if Wolf is “an actor human,” what if you are actually nothing and no one cares and what if your phone goes off and the crew posts about you on Sidechat? What if this cynical series of questions is the truth?

Now, remember that empty seat that I promised was important? Sitting next to it was one of the best decisions I could have made, because it was actually reserved for Wolf or Jeenu or both or neither, depending on the scene. Seeing Wolf hold a puppet — wooden, with a cloth mannequin head — and literally sit on the sidelines, silently observing scenes, added another layer of Jeenu’s helplessness throughout, a forced bystander to their own life.

While Wolf stood out, the rest of the cast supported this role. All five characters amplified each other. Robin (Annika Mathias ’24), half of the lesbian couple and the one who “adopts” Jeenu, has a frantic energy and a naive air that comes from the excitement of having a child without an understanding of its nuances. Ash (Nick Pittagnano ’24), Robin’s nonbinary partner and boxer, acted with deliberate carelessness, but showed palpable tension through subtle movements and looks. To Robin’s dismay, Ash is the character whom Wolf connects with first, which causes strain in their relationship. Their tensed shoulders and deep breathing portray the building pressure.

Ryan (Talulah Juniper ’27), Robin’s brother and Ash’s trainer, embodies the machismo of the “good guy,” who is supportive until things deviate from his idea of social order. His frat-boy energy and Juniper’s acting sell the idea that Ryan believes everything he is doing is right, that he needs to fix the family by getting rid of a child who doesn’t react the way he expects. Peter (Kavya Parameswar ’24), the man who sent Jeenu to Ash and Robin and, presumably, named him “Pete Junior,” has that same sense of justness with a dose of nerves and extra misogyny.

At the end of the play, Ryan and Peter work together to take Robin and Ash to court, arguing that Peter’s Yahoo message board of Jeenu’s un-adoption is reversible as he never transferred custody. This ends with the court deciding that both same-sex parents and Peter are harmful to Jeenu and leave Jeenu in state custody. Part of this scene’s power is how easy it is to wish for Jeenu to stay with Robin and Ash. Yes, the misgendering of Ash by Peter, the misogyny of pullingJeenu away from Ash and Robin because “the kid needs a father figure” and the tender connections Jeenu will now lose with his newest family all suck. However, one also needs to think about the Yahoo chat board, the fact that Jeenu was renamed and the traumas of adoption, especially interracial and international ones. Maybe, upon reflection, the audience members decide they would still prefer Jeenu to stay with Ash and Robin. Or, maybe, such a decision is meaningless. Audience members have the power to think and to reckon with the fact that their answer can never be fully “right.” 

“Wolf Play,” gives its audience a chance to contemplate layers of tragedy, to step outside of oneself to see a snapshot of a displaced child’s life. It is a chance to see the truths that, as Wolf says, are wobbly things.

Meghana Lakkireddy ’25, one of the YDSA co-chairs, explained the purpose of the event, “We’ve been planning it for a few months now. It was just supposed to be an illustration to the Board of Trustees and also the campus community as a whole that the student body on campus really does care about sustainability and climate issues because we’ve kind of felt that it’s kind of been pushed to the backburner by administration.”

While Lakkireddy and Schofield feel like there is not as much discussion now as there was during the 2020–21 academic year, when there was a divestment student initiative, they both believe that there is still student support.

“[It is] not that the students aren’t talking about [climate action and sustainability], but that the administration believes the students aren’t talking about it. …,” Schofield said. “The school’s administration tends to believe that students don’t care and are just not worth the time of teaching sustainability programs.”

Of the climate action recommended on campus, Schofield and event attendee Liz Huang ’24 emphasized divestment from fossil fuels. During the 2020–21 academic year, the College released a plan to become carbon-neutral by 2040, which includes reducing overall fossil fuel use for heating and cooling and prohibiting new investments in fossil fuels. However, Schofield explained that divestment from fossil fuels remains a troubling issue for the College.

“The real reason why YDSA and EnAct started talking is that waste management is a huge issue at this school and people don’t know how to recycle or compost, and that’s not to even talk about what’s happening behind the scenes, but that students don’t know what’s going on in regards to sustainability …,” she said. “Divestment is concerning, our portfolio’s [fossil fuel] exposure increased by [about] 20 million dollars in the past year, and so that meant our exposure increased to 4.1 percent, which is a lot! A year ago, it was 2.9 [percent], and we’re seeing that at the face of literal energy crises in most of the world, let alone in the United States [where] people had to decide between getting groceries or going to their work.”

EnAct and YDSA believe that divestment and other action items featured in Schofield’s speech need to be undertaken by the College. Maeve Galvin ’25, the other YSDA co-chair, said that Schofield’s speech was an important moment to focus on the intentionality of the event and to restate what is expected of the College. Galvin also noted that the speech alongside the other performances affirmed the idea that there can be joy and appreciation alongside seriousness in activism.

“[Schofield’s speech] partnered with Scuba Kitty … added a good mixture of the seriousness of why we’re here and the importance and the weight on our shoulders for what this means, and then also a celebratory time …,” Galvin said. “It was also a gorgeous day, so we can appreciate our Earth, on this Earth weekend, and appreciate each other and have this moment and pause for why we’re here and what we wanna do.”

Galvin, Schofield and Lakkireddy all emphasized the importance of community. Lakkireddy mentioned that the Knitty Committee, another student organization, helped teach some attendees how to crochet, which was an affirmation of community to her.

“It was just really beautiful to see. … It was one of the moments at Wellesley where I feel like I’d very tangibly seen people being intentional about community and taking time to connect with each other and, I don’t know, crochet is something that is such a sweet act,” Lakkireddy said. “Seeing people pass the craft on in the name of sustainability and the cause we’re fighting for was really cool to see.”

Through the initial event, Huang said that the organizers centered “taking activism slowly” and creativity in activism.

“The organizers did a really great job centering art and creativity and self-care and I love the final event as it came together because I think it did a really great job, you know, uplifting students and energizing them at a time where everyone feels really tired and finals are coming up,” said Huang.

Galvin, Lakkireddy and Schofield were clear that they, and their organizations, have also been involved in some of the more traditional kinds of activism and advocacy, such as having discussions with administration and, for the event, writing a letter to the Board of Trustees. This letter contained an invitation for the Board of Trustees to attend the crochet-in, a list of practices and policies that YDSA and EnAct strongly suggest the College adopt and a list of signatures. In response to this letter, the secretary of the Board of Trustees suggested contacting Dean Sheilah Shaw Horton with students’ concerns, and did not address the contents of the letter. 

The three organizers are not done advocating for sustainability on campus. A week after the initial event, there was another event to stitch the crochet squares into a banner while watching “The Lorax.” Schofield mentioned that the community support demonstrated by student participation in sustainability events is uplifting to them.

“To see everyone kind of come together at the event and to see people walk up on the field behind College Club and to sit on blankets [and] join the music or join in crocheting or sing along to ‘If I Were a Fish’ — which is an excellent song … I was obsessed when Scuba Kitty did it — … that was really special to me,” she said. “A lot of the meetings we’ve been having have been really long and really tedious, and so to be like, ‘Oh, but the community supports this’ and like, ‘The community’s always supported this’ … is always really nice.”

Romeo’s discography often only has one or two instruments accompanying their voice, generally their piano. This can especially be found in some of their earlier work, such as “Butch 4 Butch,” which went viral on TikTok. This allows for listeners to focus on Romeo’s words, a mix of lyricism and wit. From comedic storylines such as the encounter(s) described in “Dyltgir?” and “Small Towns” to wordplay in “Fuck It,” Romeo’s songs make it impossible not to absorb every last line, which is an element I really enjoy. “Over & Over” doesn’t necessarily depart from this, but is different in that there’s also a vocalized melody.

This song has a bit more chaos to it, undertones of a relatable manic energy with the melody cheerfully singing of doom and the background vocals that climax into a scream before everything stops aside from the main singing and a quieter version of the initial “boom ba-da, doom ba-da” that precedes to permeate the entire song. “Over & Over” is also more repetitive than I’ve come to expect from Romeo, but I’ve found that I quite like it. There are subtle changes as Romeo repeats the same words, well, over and over — as the title suggests, the repeated line is “over and over.” The verses hold more depth, with Romeo describing a cycle of “f—ing [themselves] over / over and over” and the growing pains that come from leaving a bad situation, singing “And with my departure from the pain I harbor / I feel I am sinking and sailing to swim.”

This song feels physical, with the vocalizations and a clapping or stomping sound that feels spur of the moment. This physicality makes the song feel more … tangible, adding to the spatiality from the feeling of distance in the outro. It also adds to the feeling of falling into spirals of bad habits and behaviors that this song seems to exemplify. Romeo’s music video, shot and edited by Jason Schiller, also adds a lot.

I don’t normally comment on music videos, but this one was really interesting. Simple yet striking, the music video looks like a retro home recording in many ways, with B-roll such as supersaturated sunsets, black and white film and technicolor-esque accelerated video of flower blooms interspersed between grainy footage of Romeo. There’s that distinctive yellow text captioning the song once the verses begin, which gets increasingly more chaotic once they begin the chorus before returning to normal to finish off the song. In the footage, Romeo is often smiling at the camera as they sing or is surrounded by brightness, adding a dissonance between their appearance and their words. This mask breaks at the outro, when Romeo repeats the last two lines of verse before finishing the video with desaturated shots of them smoking alone, almost contemplatively.

Suffice to say, I like the song. I like Rio Romeo and I would be hard-pressed to find a song I didn’t like, but I will say I am a little surprised that I like this one as much as I do. In previous songs, I primarily enjoyed the variety of lyrics and the piano accompaniment (I always like to say I’ll learn the piano again, which means I just listen really intently to it whenever I hear piano in my liked songs on Spotify). This song’s focus isn’t quite on lyrics or the piano, though. There isn’t very much variation in the lyrics and the buildup of the song leads to a moment without piano. What this song has, however, is that same feeling I get from a lot of their other (non-comedic) work — something intimate, but relatable. If I think about the song too long, I cry, as it brings me to thoughts of my own self-destructive behaviors and the floundering that comes from leaving familiarity to pursue self-betterment. This isn’t a song to add to every playlist you listen to or to play the second you get the aux when hanging with your friends, but it is a song to cry in the woods to or simply enjoy when you want something a little different.

Watching this feels like watching a friend get so excited they exhibit an almost childlike quality — pure, yet touching. At one point, Martin makes a point of commenting on watching their friend’s stand-up and noting that their show was dynamic, which they wished to be. And there’s humor in the  bit when removed from context, but it is highlighted further by the fact that Martin is so expressive and physical in this special. I was first introduced to their work in Netflix’s 2022 LGBTQ+ comedy special “Stand Out,” and even in that, there’s this physicality that makes Martin so engaging. Their first bit of their special is actually also in “Stand Out,” but they lead into it seamlessly by discussing  how their father is lost in the (moon) sauce, and they were so animated I continued to hang onto every word despite knowing the contents. Their excitement is tangible, coming through in hand gestures and bright movements, which underscores the beginning’s focus on a tranquil parent. Framing their special in the context of their parents sets the viewer up for something a little reflective, yet lively.

Around the halfway point, Martin starts a bit about the embarrassment of being an adult but having a room, only to lead into the abstract. Transplanting this idea of rooms as external expressions of oneself, they describe minds as rooms furnished with identity, which they specifically think of as snow globes. And the delight in Burgers’s face when Martin offers him a snow globe at the beginning of the special becomes more significant — this snow globe indicative of storytime is deeper, now, than an object; it is a symbol of the basis of communication. While Martin acts out this idea of showing mental snow globes to have conversation, complete with voices, there is an underlying contemplativeness. This is the first bit where they pause for a significant beat or two, providing a moment to relax into the snowglobe that is experiencing this special.

That is a feeling carried throughout “SAP” — commentary on some of the special’s material being more of a (amusingly concerning) vignette than a joke with a punchline, many jokes explicitly set in childhood or being significantly younger and an entire set-up regarding nostalgia feature in their work. They tease their younger self but remain loving, acknowledging the validity of their anger (likening it to being a teen buying a terrible house from a shady realtor) while also saying that, perhaps, getting a tattoo that says “oatmeal” and being self-destructive might not be the best way to react to being given a house that’s falling apart.

Toward the end, Martin gets more political, mentioning the 2016 election of Trump as proof that the world is “tilted on its axis,” and the efforts of Gen Z are going to fix the house they’ve been given. They even touch on less contemporary issues, acknowledging the colonial nature of gender binaries, specifically calling out UK media’s smugness regarding India decriminalizing homosexuality when England’s colonization of India was responsible for the initial criminalization, calling it the ultimate form of gaslighting.

Martin ends the actual stand-up with a Buddhist parable, which they start by asking the audience to stay with them, as it’s actually a positive story. Once it’s told, they are earnest, asking the audience to get it, to wait and see it through, because this parable, they reveal, is the origin of the special’s name, “SAP.” The special as a whole ends where it began, with Burgers’s character crying (due to their differences in humor), and me crying when Martin takes the snowglobe back, saying “It’s me, I’m me” and Burgers agreeing “You are you.” Credits role as Martin and Burgers get ready to bury some mail.

I didn’t go into watching this with any expectations, but even if I did, I don’t know whether  I  would have ever expected what I got. “SAP” is funny, reflective, poignant and just … good. Martin keeps it light, even when talking about serious matters, in a way that avoids minimizing the damage they’re discussing. And yes, I cried a little at the end, but I don’t think that’s a mark of an unsuccessful special. It is hard to blindly watch comedians these days without fearing that someone will be punching down on my and other people’s existence, so it is refreshing to see a show void of it. The end is an affirmation of existence for Martin and people like them, which is moving. And, I don’t know about you, but ending a comedy show with some laughter as well as some acceptance is a pretty good way to go.

Lola Vialet, a 2021 Berklee College of Music graduate, may not be new to the music scene, but her debut single “All or Nothing” makes it clear that she’s she is a voice to look out for. I first found Vialet through the Powers That Be (Instagram’s algorithm) a couple weeks ago when she began teasing this single, and I am so glad I did because I am a sucker for a good chill dance beat. She has appeared in other artists’ work since 2022 and continues to do live music performances, but “All of Nothing” is a new frontier for Vialet.

Vialet has beautiful, clear vocals that remain soft without being lost in the beat. As the song progresses, a vocalized melody is introduced as a background track, which adds some extra soul to the beat. Throughout, piano chords are sprinkled throughout with somewhat more frequent bass that is grounded by the continuous 5/4 main background track (a departure form the usual 4/4 beat that generally characterizes house). A relatively rare time signature, the quintuple meter adds a bit more interest and creates a distinctive feel that keeps me coming back for more. This departure from the traditional makes me excited to see what comes next from Vialet, and adds to the messaging of the song.

This song is intensely relatable to any lesbian at Wellesley, asking the question: “What are we?” But Vialet makes sure her lover knows that she will no longer tolerate a situationship, that it’s “All or Nothing.” Not only that, but she is not here to be subservient to her partner’s indecisiveness, saying “We’re supposed to be equal / don’t you know?” When her lover keeps changing their number, she is there to change her attitude. Their relationship/situationship has issues, as “love never coincides” and her partner’s love is not necessarily true, just as she doesn’t trust them like she says she does. However, Vialet knows they have potential, and is willing to bet on them as long as they “put all [their] chips in.”

At the time of writing, Vialet has around 200 monthly listeners, and her debut has less than 1,000 streams, but I would bet it all on them becoming someone great. This song is the first solo piece I’ve heard from her, but I truly hope it won’t be the last, because I am finding myself obsessed. Plus, maybe this would be a good song to play the next time you’re in a kinda-maybe-sorta relationship at Wellesley. What else do you expect from the lesbian drama on campus, direct communication?

With psychedelic twists, the band’s guitar and achingly beautiful vocals have a chilled out yet engaging feel, with callbacks to iconic musicians and songs such as Muddy Waters, Chuck Berry, and “Roxanne” by The Police. “Drop Stop Roll” has a simple chorus that lends itself well to live performances — an audience loves a chance for engagement. However, as much as I have generally enjoyed RKS in the past, I don’t know if I can say that I like this song. Don’t get me wrong, it isn’t a bad song! It just isn’t something particularly memorable.

It feels like a song that would play in that scene of a coming-of-age movie where the main protagonist puts her earbuds in and leans her head against the bus window. Or, now that I think about it, like a song that would have been featured in the soundtrack for “Life is Strange.” And I don’t think that’s a negative — not every song needs to be a spectacularly original and memorable work. We need music that can serve as a cooldown during live music sets or as the background of a video game. This single doesn’t detract from RKS’s discography, but rather serves to highlight the rest of the band’s work, which has value in and of itself.

The titular first track on the EP is definitely not a great example of subtlety, with immediate mentions of penguins, puffles and waddles. It’s also not a particularly great song, I must admit. It seems like it’s trying to play on the idea of listening to a DJ, which makes sense considering it was played every 20 minutes during the Make Your Mark: Ultimate Jam event within the game. While, according to the Club Penguin fandom wiki, this song was number one in the iTunes music store, let’s just say that it can only go uphill from this track. “Anchors Aweigh” is definitely a song I probably obsessed over when I was a kid — it’s that Disney pop with a hint of rock (read: electric guitar) that I would have thought was the coolest thing in the world. And honestly, it’s a silly song about being a pirate, so it’s infinitely better than Cadence’s track. However, I completely forgot this song existed so it’s ultimately nothing special. 

Now, “Ghosts Just Wanna Dance” — I know for a fact that I could not get enough of this song. Disney had that era of dance-y Halloween music, and this song lived in my head rent-free. I could almost certainly still sing along to most of it, and I can forgive the overly synthetic autotuning they give Cadence because 1) it was 2012, and 2) the song is catchy. Also, this is one of those songs about how the monsters are actually completely chill because they just want to vibe, so please stop screaming because you’re really distracting from the dance music, thank you very much. There’s a weird little pseudo-rap segment in the middle which I always block out of my memory because I hate it, though. “Cool in the Cold” is a generic pop duet about the joys of playing outside in the winter/Club Penguin, which was a novelty because Los Angeles winter doesn’t really happen in the way the song describes. “Puffle Party (Gotta Have a Wingman)” is another rap-esque song so I’d rather pretend it doesn’t exist. And, as a final track, “Dubstep Puffle” by Dubstep Puffle (innovative, I know) is a basic dubstep song without vocals, so nothing special.

There isn’t much to say about these songs — I and everyone reading this (probably) is not the target audience, and the songs aren’t particularly meant to be deep. What I can say about the music is that I still kind of like “Ghosts Just Wanna Dance” and I would probably prefer “Cool in the Cold” to some of the modern pop music because I’m stuck in the past with some of my music taste. But this isn’t just about the music. I like to play keeping some of the songs in my Spotify library off as a bit, and it mostly is, but it’s also a bit of nostalgia I can actually enjoy. Club Penguin was a game I spent hours on, mastering the rhythm game and obsessing over the secret agency B-plot (as much as you can have a B-plot when there’s not really even an A-plot), and I think that can resonate with at least a few other people. Unless your favorite genre is 2012 Disney pop or you’re roughly 11-years-old, I don’t think this album is for you, and it isn’t meant to be. But I think you should give a song or two a listen if you played the game in the past — you might be surprised by the memories that come flooding back.

Ahona Mukherjee ’25, one of the volunteer archivists, said, “[The Trans Archive] is a platform and a form of keeping track of memory of the school and, specifically, trans students [and] trans experiences and to just kind of note that we are here on this campus and have always been here on this campus. It is not supposed to be a log of fiction work, but rather something to document lived experiences of trans people, spam of events that have occurred, generally non-fiction work.”

Currently a five-person student project headed by Juno Appel ’25, the Trans Archive debuted in early March, shortly after an email sent out by President Paula Johnson in opposition to the gender inclusivity ballot initiative. While the timing of its founding may appear to be a direct response to that email, the Archive had been in the works for a large portion of the academic year. Mukherjee noted that the group had been “quietly working on it in the background and waiting for an opportune time” to unveil the project.

Alongside their inaugural Tumblr post, the Archive posted on Instagram with suggestions of what types of content to submit, from photos to poetry to tweets. They started with more contemporary submissions, such as spam and statements relating to Johnson’s email, then moved to the recent past with pictures from the Rocky Horror Picture Show production in 2022 and posters advertising events hosted by the Office of LGBTQ+ Programs and Services. Throughout the entire Archive so far, photos of trans joy can be found alongside older content such as the New York Times article about Wellesley men and the Times article about the 2015 decision to accept trans women at the College, including media of the student advocacy work that helped lead to that decision. While the Archive has a variety of content, Mukherjee notes some of their favorite submissions.

“Something that I really appreciated seeing was people uploading pictures of their friends and specifically trans joy on campus. I think a lot of people think that the documentation of trans experience has to be very serious and has to be like, ‘Oh, I’m at this historically women’s space, and I just feel out of place here,’” they said. “That’s not always going to be the case, and it’s nice to show that trans people have always had a space here and have communities here, and that is very much present in the Archive.”

Alongside the broad idea of trans joy, the Archive stands as a place for anyone to post practically anything they would like to, even to the point of being able to treat it like a personal diary or journal. Because the Archive uses a system that allows for anonymity, Mukherjee noted that the contents are simultaneously intimate and dissociated. Furthermore, Mukherjee emphasized the need for intersectional experiences to be shared and added to the Archive.

“I think a lot of the trans experience that has been documented … is often a very white experience, and, as someone who is a leader of a queer affinity group on-campus, specifically QTSAC [Queer and Trans South Asian Collective], I want to make sure that yes, people feel visible in terms of seeing trans people on campus, but [also in terms of] seeing the diversity of trans people … POC experiences, neurodiverse experiences, disabled experiences …” Mukherjee said. “The list could go on, but there’s so many people here that I know personally whose experiences could just enlighten so many other people and make people feel enriched and feel in community with others, because they don’t see themselves otherwise, and I want people to know that people like them belong here.”

If Hozier’s astounding track record and the previous track-and-a-half weren’t assuring enough, that immediate response would have let me know I was in for a good cry — sorry, I mean time. Released March 17 (happy birthday, Hozier!), “Eat Your Young” is an EP that makes me want to beg for the full album to be put out into this world soon. Tragically for us all, Hozier stated his fourth album will be released in late summer, although it will be preceded both by some additional songs and our collective tears. The upcoming album, “Unreal Earth,” will be framed by the nine circles of hell depicted in Dante’s “Inferno,” which we get a preview of within this EP.

“Eat Your Young” starts off strong, with the titular song providing a different sound (a housemate referred to this as “a little more Coldplay,” if that helps), although the entire EP maintains the silkiness, beautiful lyrics and sheer amount of soul I often associate with a Hozier song. “Eat Your Young” is an untamed, sensual track with drama from string instruments providing a Bond girl energy that I can’t help but love. While it’s based on the third circle of hell, gluttony, we are immediately greeted by the oral sex imagery of “I’m starvin’, darlin’ / Let me put my lips to something / Let me wrap my teeth around the world.” Despite the insatiable nature, Hozier tames “Eat Your Young” with an extended (read: 45 second long) instrumental at the end that winds us down for the next track.

“All Things End” is a beat filled with romance in the bittersweet way Hozier is oh-so-capable of. Compared to the first song, it feels stripped down, the slow groove making the symphonic end more impactful. This is the song that made me cry — it holds the same imagery of Dante’s sixth circle, but holds itself as a gentle reminder of impermanence. In this song, Hozier tells us living is to love, and to love is to experience and go through pain, with “If there was anyone to ever get through this life / With their heart still intact, they didn’t do it right.” It took a couple of replays for me to cry, but, ever since, the song consistently makes me at least a little teary. The end of this song is a choir-sung chorus, but it ends with Hozier’s voice standing alone (with a hint of reverb) for the last two lines, aurally separating him in a very heretic-like fashion.

Hozier ends this EP with “Through Me (The Flood),” which continues the calmer energy for the first third or so of the beat. This track is filled with more elements reminiscent of church, from the organ in the background to the gospel-style vocal backing. Contemplative and filled with strong imagery, this song was written during the pandemic, and it shows. The song grapples with loss and persevering through grief. This masterfully balances between the previous two songs, creating a lovely send-off.

While Hozier clarifies that these three songs are not fully representative of the album, they provide a look at what’s to come, and I’m liking what I’m seeing (hearing). While not necessarily a new idea, the framing of an album as a kind of journey through the circles of hell is interesting and pairs well with Hozier’s discography. All in all, if you are one of the rare lesbians of Wellesley College that haven’t listened to it yet, I highly recommend this EP, especially if you want to cry about the inevitability and joy of heartbreak with track two.

The storyline on that initial track shows that this album is one of love, something both the Moon and Venus are often symbolic of. Uchis doesn’t shy away from the double-sided nature of love, however — red Moons are symbols of chaos and change, which this album balances alongside songs of stability. From the end to the beginning of love, Uchi has a song for you. The album is defined as R&B, but hints of dreampop are interspersed throughout, adding to the psychedelic soul within the tracks. This album includes 15 tracks, three of which featuring another artist (Omar Apollo on track three, Don Toliver on track seven, and Summer Walker on track 13). This is a longer album, but Uchis utilizes every second of it masterfully to the point that I still want more.

After an ethereal introduction, Uchis starts with “I Wish you Roses,” an anthem for amicable breakups — romantic, platonic or otherwise. This second track is what I lovingly think of as an ode to lesbian breakups. Tender, yet boundary setting, she starts off by making sure the listener knows where she stands through cautionary words of bee stings and almost a promise that “you” are going to want her back, but it will have been too late. “Worth the Wait,” the first song with a featured artist, slows it down with sensual lyrics. She continues to relax the energy with “Love Between…,” which features a slow 70s-style groove and a chorus interpolated from “Love…Can Be So Wonderful” by The Temprees. Uchis makes this cosmic beat a ballad for falling in love, and I can’t help but think of everyone in my life, romantic or otherwise, that “make[s] my soul smile.”

Uchis gets more serious with “All Mine,” where she professes that she is the only one for her lover and vice versa. This song gets a little toxic, placing lovers as people who should only focus on each other with lines such as “I hate your phone, throw it away / Wish it had never even been invented.” But you know what? Uchis can be a little toxic, as a treat. This is also the first song with a bit of Spanish in it, which I was excited to see, even if I wish there was a bit more throughout the track and the album as a whole.

This toxicity is continued in a bad bitch kind of way with track eight, “Hasta Cuando,” which features such lines as “Your girl talks shit about me just to feel better … At the end of the day, she’d eat my pussy if I let her.” This tongue-in-cheek lyricism adds a lot to this track, especially as it follows “Fantasy” and “Como Te Quiero Yo.” “Fantasy” features Uchis boyfriend, Don Toliver, and serves as a reminder that no one should settle and instead focus on leaving their fantasies with their partners. “Como Te Quiero Yo” adds to “Fantasy” the idea that you can have a fantasy without perfection — as she says, “Si no hay drama no hay amor” (if there is no drama, there is no love). With these songs, Uchis makes a point that, not only is she living her dream, but every other girl either wants to be with her or be her.

Tracks 10 and 11 similarly pair well, with “Moral Conscience” a reminder that her exes took the final L by losing her, even if she had some self-doubt and “Not Too Late (interlude)” where she tells her haters that “It’s not too late to admit you love [her].” With this, Uchis firmly places herself as an unaffected goddess, only to get vulnerable about break-ups with “Blue” and “Deserve Me.”

“Blue” is a soft beat about experiencing distance with your partner, maybe even breaking up. In this, she acknowledges that she may have exhibited unhealthy behaviors that we’ve seen hints of throughout the album. She notes that she might just love her partners too hard, specifically noting “I guess that’s my own fault for makin’ you my world, now all I feel is blue.” However, Uchis bounces back with her song in collaboration with Summer Walker, “Deserve Me.” Here, she accepts that she needs to move on and that her love is better placed elsewhere with a harder hitting beat, although still maintaining some of the dreamy background instrumentals. This song reflects Uchis’s continued ideology that her body is sacred and love is a prerequisite for access, with lines such as Walker’s “You don’t deserve the love I give you / Make me wanna take the pussy back.”

Track 14 brings one of my favorite songs on the album, “Moonlight.” After bouncing back, Uchis has a fun song about getting ready to go out with her (presumably new) lover. In this, gentle funk amplifies the groove of this track as she sings about getting a natural high from her lover as they go on a night drive. She is fully feeling herself, saying “Veo una muñeca cuando miro en el espejo” (I see a doll when I look in the mirror). Finally, she finishes off the album with “Happy Now,” an upbeat anthem for accepting what’s happened that slows down at the outro as she reflects on the past, saying “Just wanna remember all the good things,” before ending with the sound of waves taking the album back to sea.

This album has a song for everyone, whether you just broke up with and then got back together with your (ex) girlfriend for the seventh time and need to remember that you are that bitch and you should never settle or you just want on a first date and are already planning your next U-Haul. Even if you have nothing romantic to speak of, these songs have a place in promoting self-care and self-love and are all simply bops that you can listen to on your way to class, studying, or hooking up (even if Uchis may not approve of hooking up without romance). And, of course, if none of that was enough to entice you, perhaps the potential for the Kali Uchis effect could lure you in to experiencing one of my favorite albums this year so far.