Girl Afraid - Mascott

----- When Juicy broke up after two spunky albums, singer/guitarist Kendall Meade didn't
know what to do next. So she left New York and moved to Detroit to sort through her feelings
and go to work for her father. She never expected a call from Mary Timony asking whether she
could play keyboards and if she might want to tour with Helium the following month in England.
The only correct answer to this question is yes – even if the real answer is no, and that thin white
lie means borrowing your sister’s toy keyboard, spending lunch hours memorizing Helium’s
The Magic City and teaching yourself to play.

----- “I had no idea what was going to happen to my life.” Meade explains over breakfast at
Brooklyn’s Fall Café. “Then Mary called, and everything just kind of took off. I went from
being totally lost, working in my dad’s car dealership and not knowing what the future held, to
three weeks later, playing in London with one of my favorite bands. It was a dream come true.”

----- Now Meade has her own band, Mascott, and a spare, gorgeous EP, Electric
Poems (on Le Grand Magistery), which demonstrates an astonishing musical maturation
from Juicy’s fun, silly girl-pop. If Juicy had the sassy attitude of three twentysomethings
masking insecurities by reveling in girl-gang bravado, Mascott’s debut showcases a strong,
sensitive songwriter on her own, facing her fears and not afraid to say she’s afraid.

----- “The best thing about those Juicy records is at the time, that’s exactly how I was feeling,”
Meade says. “That was just naivete, you know, but at the same time is was really honest.
Ultimately, though, it’s easier to be jokey and fun, and it’s harder to be really emotional ... With
this record, what I wanted to capture was a softness and a sense of real emotion.”

----- Meade attributes this newfound songwriting courage to confidence-building tours with
Helium and the Spinanes, recording with accomplished Brooklyn pals from Ladybug Transistor
and Fan Modine and lots of late nights alone in Detroit spent with her Leonard Cohen, Joni
Mitchell, Bob Dylan, Smog and Palace albums.

----- “You can’t deny that sincerity,” she says. “I’m lyrically oriented. If there’s something I
relate to, it doesn’t matter what kind of music it is. I’m over the moon for it. I used to listen to
Juliana Hatfield in college. She was the first one for me who plainly said how she felt. She
wasn’t afraid to say she was feeling insecure or dorky or vulnerable. I’m a sucker for people’s
insecurities. That’s what I like to write about – the things that make knots in my stomach.”

----- Still, there’s a sunny hopefulness to Meade’s songs about unrequited pangs and wayward,
misbegotten boys, a confidence that comes from expressing her own awkward, ambigous
feelings with clarity and the slightest lilt of sadness in her lovely voice and gentle melodies.

----- “I think the fact that I’m not supposed to be doing this makes it even more appealing,”
she says. “It’s like dating Mr. Danger. But after two years of doing it, it’s part of me. And I
can’t stop.”

----------– David Daley