Snõõper Goes Worldwide On Second Album

While Snõõper spent time building digital soundscapes, they couldn’t ignore the increasing thematic reliance on technology to provide modicums of convenience. The title “Opt Out” refers to the message you receive when signing up for a subscription (“reply STOP to opt out of receiving these messages”), a message you might routinely ignore out of sheer laziness, even when those spam texts get bothersome. Snõõper confronts the routine weirdness of the digital world in “On-Line,” which delves further into the soul-sucking grift of the internet. Over the years, online profiles have evolved from merely representing a person to becoming a synonym for identity altogether. While the song’s subject is “afraid to see what’s hiding behind the screen,” Tramel chants “everything’s fine” like a frantic affirmation, grasping for some semblance of selfhood to hold onto when the screen eventually goes dark.

Snõõper quells these new-age anxieties through pounding tempos—whenever you think they can’t go faster, they rev it up even more. Cummins has said he wanted to include more musical breaks on the album, constructing musical friction through experiments with rhythm and repetition. While these moments double as chances for frenzied fans to dance themselves clean, Cummins believes those spaces gave Tramel “room to breathe, which ended up allowing her to write differently.” “Star *69” was written after a bout of winter depression, when Tramel imagined calling for help but only hearing her own voice repeated back to her. She sings of calling hotlines from what she deems an “amphetamine machine,” putting a play on the operation *67, the digits that remove caller ID from a phone call. The song evokes the disorienting moment of picking up a call where the other interlocutor just breathes into the receiver. The fallout of splintered communication is also present in “Company Car,” where Tramel drips with self-effacement in her pleas of “When are you free?” and “Can you see me?” All of Worldwide is a romp, so these snippets of unmasked nerves are left to be discovered.

“Company Car” chugs along like the heartbeat of a new crush, and certainly feels evocative of the likes of riot grrrl bands like Bikini Kill or Le Tigre. Snõõper is aware of the comparisons they receive, a common one being the “cheerleader vocals” found in their chanted songs, which have been posed both as a compliment and a taunt. “Pom Pom” satirizes this dig as a reclamation; Tramel opens the track with “got cheerleader of the month,” a promise that if she’s going to be reduced to a female stereotype, she may as well get a song out of it. “Pom Pom” features one of the band’s more eclectic soundscapes, a referee whistle and warbling guitar feedback. Staving off public scrutiny is a goal of “Guard Dog” as well, where Tramel laments the phenomenon of “strangers standing next to me, telling me how it should be.” Being a band with a platform will eventually accrue a few critics, but Snõõper bites back, steadfast in their resolution to enjoy their time in the limelight. “Guard Dog” is an exercise in liberation, embracing freedom like a kid without a curfew.

Randomness is an overarching theme of Worldwide—experiments with genre, musical texture, and thematic breadth are only a fraction of the Snõõper we’ve come to recognize. It’s obvious that a great deal of punk surrounds expelling rage, but Snõõper’s goal for their new record was to embrace other facets of what their music represents. The title track expresses the band’s desire to expand their thematic range, the expectations for which caused an overwhelming sense of “Pressure! Pushing in flattened me out from end to end.” While it’s clear that Snõõper set high standards for their second album, they didn’t collapse under the pressure—they let it mount until Worldwide becomes a diamond.