Mannequin Pussy Fixate on Freedom on I Got Heaven

If you’ve already released a project boldly titled Perfect, seek out nirvana next. At least that seems to be the mission of Mannequin Pussy’s new release, I Got Heaven—a collection of trenchant punk that’s fixated on the ultimate utopia: freedom. On the fourth studio album from the Philadelphia four-piece, purrs deepen into growls at the mention of leashes and collars, while control often manifests through visceral imagery: hearts splitting open, minds ablaze and carved bodies served on a silver platter.

“We’re supposed to be living in the freest era ever, so what it means to be a young person in this society is the freedom to challenge these systems that have been put onto us,” vocalist and instrumentalist Marisa Dabice said, reflecting on the core themes of the record. “It makes sense to ask, what ultimately am I living for? What is it that makes me want to live?”

The yearning for reform builds in tangent with a list of lyrical queries, like “Oh, what’s wrong with dreaming of burning this all down?” from “Nothing Like,” and the most blasphemous question of 2024 to date, courtesy of the album’s opener. “I don’t think there’s ever been anything in need of a spiritual revolution more than modern-day Christianity,” remarked Dabice, an opinion that’s clear on the title track, when she sings “And what if we stopped spinning? / And what if we’re just flat? / And what if Jesus himself ate my fuckin’ snatch?” The jaw-snapping introduction couples coos and battle cries from Dabice, who seamlessly switches between abrasive vocals and a silky delivery on the chorus. Throughout I Got Heaven, Mannequin Pussy’s punk becomes more pliable, intermingling with sprightly synths (“I Don’t Know You”), breezy vocal hooks (“Nothing Like”) and a stripped-down bridge that builds into distant roars (“Softly”).

That textural variety shines as one of I Got Heaven’s greatest assets, yet its most discordant songs remain the strongest of the lot. “I Got Heaven” rolls into the equally barbed tune “Loud Bark,” a segue so natural that the tracks feel like two acts of the same narrative. “I got a loud bark / Deep bite,” Dabice spits on the refrain, exhaling each word with a breathy heave. The divine one-two punch is the highlight of the record, a perfect pairing of songs that supplies an unwavering sense of protection and solidarity. The lyrics “For what they did to you / I will never lay to rest” from the title track remain the most poignant lines on the record—a mighty feat, considering “Of Her” professes the grisly chant “Yes I suffer for the money / Serve me on a platter and then cut me.”

The back half of the record proves to be a bulldozer of sound, fueled by a high-octane clash between rage and yearning. Here lie the record’s most unrelenting moments, which pummel listeners through lyrical repetition: Dabice’s mounting howls of “I got to / I got to / I GOT to / I GOT TO BE FREE” on “Aching,” and the rapid-fire refrain of “OK? OK! OK? OK!,” a grinding duet that lends the mic to bassist Colins “Bear” Regisford.

Only minutes removed from the more pillowy melodies of “I Don’t Know You” and the title track, the forceful finale of I Got Heaven—“Split Me Open”—asserts that tenderness and earth-shattering thrash can not only coexist, but complement each other. Mannequin Pussy’s map of utopia may span uneven terrain, but the band dominates every inch of it, forging cohesive paths between harsh and heavenly melodies. The feat renews one of punk’s lasting tenets for a new era of activism: to protect what’s precious—freedom, community or otherwise—you usually have to raise a little hell.

Read our recent profile on Mannequin Pussy here.

Victoria Wasylak is an award-winning music journalist and editor with bylines in Vanyaland, The Boston Globe, NYLON and GRAMMY.com. She’s also written over a dozen episodes of the world-renowned music and true crime podcast, Disgraceland. Last year she appeared in Forbes’ inaugural 30 Under 30 list for Boston. You can find her on X @VickiWasylak.