“Looks like downhill from here,” Mia Berrin quips at the top of Pom Pom Squad’s second album, Mirror Starts Moving Without Me. It’s an apt opening for a project steeped in hellish Alice in Wonderland imagery and named after the uncanny horror movie trope where a character’s reflection moves out of synch. On Mirror, Berrin, the band’s lead singer and songwriter, leans into this darker tone of the Lewis Carroll classic as she illustrates an identity crisis in overdrive.
The singer first explored this theme on Pom Pom Squad’s bold 2021 debut, Death of a Cheerleader, in in which she examined how each part of her identity as a mixed queer woman fit into the indie rock world, and the world at large. Death of a Cheerleader’s reference-packed tracklist (and title) not only subverted ideas of femininity, it also leveled up the Brooklyn band’s grunge sound from their 2019 EP Ow into full-blown punk songs that evoked Bikini Kill. The LP and its critical success helped Pom Pom Squad reinforce their place as indie darlings, a status they’d already earned with the powerful energy of their live shows.
In Mirror opener “Downhill,” Berrin makes a daring promise to “come back from the dead.” As the singer tumbles through the figurative mirror and explores all the versions of herself, she realizes the process of reinvention is grueling. On Death of a Cheerleader, Berrin asked “Is there a way for me to kill the girl I wish I were” but on Mirror’s “Spinning” she’s “crying for the girl [she] could’ve been” instead. It’s a haunting realization that leaves specters scattered across the album.
Meanwhile, tracks like “Running from Myself” and “Everybody’s Moving On” chronicle the experience of moving past the monstrous parts of yourself that are better left behind. Nowhere is Berrin’s loss of self more potent than album closer “The Tower,” where she regretfully compares admits “I lost my magic” and compares the process to “a sword to the heart.” By the end of the record, Berrin is still tumbling down the wonderland-turned-hellscape of her own creation but the possibility of reconnecting with the truest parts of herself finally feels within reach.
While Berrin still conceptually grapples with her identity on Mirror, she also conveys new facets of it amidst interesting sonic turns that feel distinct from Death of a Cheerleader. With the help of composer Cody Fitzgerald, Berrin took on a bigger production role and added more pop shape to Pom Pom Squad’s electric, multi-dimensional charge. From the ad-libs and video game-inspired effects on “Street Fighter” to the glassy synths in “Spinning” and the thrumming heart at the breathless center of “Villain,” the choices feel intentional and intuitive. Snarling hooks and chugging guitars still anchor these songs and feel more revved up than ever before. The contrast is best summed up by Berrin herself on “Street Fighter” when she sings, “I make pretty girl rock.”
Pom Pom Squad takes a couple moments to breathe in the space of the record’s sadness, too. On the devastating lullaby “Montauk” and aching mantra of “Doll Song,” Berrin’s heartbreak and intense self-reflection is laid bare over soft-plucked melodies. The songs are sharper than the slower tracks on the band’s debut, but still prove that Pom Pom Squad is at their best when they come out swinging.
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