Hatchie Upsizes Her Sound on Giving the World Away

In Jia Tolentino’s 2019 book of essays Trick Mirror, the then-30-year-old writes about internet culture through a millennial lens, particularly that of a millennial woman. In the penultimate essay, “The Cult of the Difficult Woman,” she untangles the issue of women in the spotlight and our tendency to compartmentalize famous women into good and bad boxes, no longer objectifying women but rather, and maybe more egregriously, viewing them through a new broken brand of feminism as “subjects.”

Harriette Pilbeam, the Australian pop artist who tumbled into indie stardom sometime around the release of her debut LP Keepsake in 2019, cites Trick Mirror as one of many inspirations for her expansive new album, Giving the World Away. It’s easy to see how someone like Pilbeam, now 28, might relate to Tolentino’s message. The internet’s indie music hive, which can often feel like a vacuum where certain artists are glorified while others are shunned and there’s no in-between, has already sorted Hatchie neatly into a box. But on Giving the World Away, Pilbeam sought to take “control of her own narrative,” album press materials say. In the process, she reclaims her emotions, expands her sound and positions herself as an artist who refuses to fit into anyone’s preconceived opinions.

The best example of this transformation might be the edgy, electronica-infused “The Rhythm,” which Pilbeam opens with the line, “Took some time for me to find the rhythm / it’s hard to see but believe in me, it’s within.” Many who have lived through early adulthood, or are still navigating it, can relate to those moments—even if they’re fleeting—when everything clicks, and you can see how past versions of yourself led to the version you’re meant to be. Giving the World Away is largely a personification of those feelings.

But that’s not to say the album is free of nerves and doubt. On standout single “Quicksand,” which leans into the industrial moods Pilbeam toyed with on songs like Keepsake’s “Without a Blush” and “Stay With Me,” the singer admits to “chasing [her] tail” and “thinking about everything [she] never did.” The song hinges on the question of what happens when one does reach that place of self-actualization or whatever goal one is chasing—what then? Does regret dissipate, or linger? “If I had everything I wanted would I want more?” Pilbeam asks. “Would I keep fighting if there’s nothing left to fight for?” She revisits this dilemma on “The Key,” asking, “Do I regret what I wanted? Regret that I bought it?”