On All of This Will End, Indigo De Souza Begins Again

Indigo De Souza’s music can be funny, sad, sweet or unsettling—sometimes all at once—and her vision has been coming into focus since her 2018 debut I Love My Mom. In touch with her feelings and attentive to those of others, De Souza’s work presents a genuine openness that, while oft-imitated, is truly singular. The response was overwhelming when De Souza shared her follow-up, Any Shape You Take,an album that is special from your first encounter with it. It boasts not just incredible songs, but also unforgettable moments—like when “Kill Me” free-falls and the drums crash with the overwhelming essence of strobe lights, or when her voice bursts in during “Real Pain” after a minute of heartsick, guttural screams.

De Souza’s new album, All of This Will End, was conceived in the unstable aftermath of Any Shape You Take. After her bandmates abandoned her, she regrouped, assembling a new band and working closely with producer and new bandmate Alex Farrar. De Souza came away from the experience with an album that feels nourished by the trust she placed in her newfound community. Her bandmates act as a support system, pushing these songs to new heights, ready to catch her when she stares at the unknown. All of This Will End is triumphant, despite the emotional terrain it navigates.

If its predecessor is notable for the empathetic way it conveyed insecurity, All of This Will End is marked by its presentation of anger and anxiety. Though it pulls from many of the same sonic places, it’s messier than Any Shape You Take—less concerned with traditional structures and genre constraints and. The opener “Time Back” is done up with autotune in a way that recalls “17” from two years ago, though it only poses as a pop song for a moment. Despite its sub-two-minute run time, “Time Back” undergoes three separate movements, as De Souza vents about mistreatment—proclaiming that she’s reclaiming the pieces of precious life that were taken from her.

There’s a similar enmity on “You Can Be Mean,” a song written about a manipulative ex-partner with one of De Souza’s most scathing insights: “I’d like to think you’ve got a good heart / And your dad was just an asshole growing up / But I don’t see you trying that hard / To be better than he is.” The electro-pop single “Smog”—while existing in a state of malaise more so than anger—delivers another barb, as its chorus comes to a close. With resignation in her voice, De Souza sings: “I don’t know how to tell you that your jokes aren’t funny.”

“Always” and “Wasting Your Time” parallel each other, retracting and expanding as if taking in deep breaths, as the guitars build sharply and fall softly. The former finds De Souza pleading and expressing disappointment in a father figure. Jagged riffs, distortion, and screams foreground the rawness of her words. The latter is a hurricane: Menacing guitars frame each side of the song, with a moment of disquieting calm at its center. De Souza sings, almost mockingly, “wasting your time” atop bright synth pads before the chaos closes in once more.

De Souza has never been a conventional indie rock songwriter; many songs on Any Shape You Take traverse several distinct movements, often teetering on the edge of five minutes. Her new songs feel even more untethered, as nearly half of All of This Will End barely scrapes the two-minute mark. It is not unlike Mitski’s masterpiece Be The Cowboy in how it makes the most of every precious second. De Souza spends exactly as much time exploring a story or an idea as is necessary, and, often, the brevity can make her observations hit even harder. That’s not to say she doesn’t allow herself time to luxuriate if the song requires it. “Not My Body,” a deeply moving song that wrestles with perceptions of our corporal forms, seems to drift on forever. It’s comforting, especially as John James Tourville’s pedal steel wraps around you like a grounding hug.

In addition to the augmentations De Souza has made to her songwriting style, there are also the ways that she has further expanded the sonic makeup of her songs. She didn’t hesitate to play with electronic instrumentation before, but the moments on Any Shape You Take that took explicit inspiration from pop music were few and far between, often feeling siloed off. Now, she’s blurred the lines, letting synths illuminate the cavernous arrangements she so often builds.

Perhaps the album’s lone moment of meticulousness, “Parking Lot” sounds as anxious as the scene it sets. Experiencing inner-turmoil at a self-checkout, De Souza sings about each stress-inducing thing crossing her mind as she navigates her day. The struggle of existing folds into a winsome melody with a resigned end: “Maybe I’ll just always be a little bit sad,” she sings. It’s immediate, brief and the finest example on All of This Will End of how De Souza’s writing can distill a feeling down to its barest, most-unpleasant essence.

Closing out All of This Will End is one of De Souza’s most divine pieces of work. “Younger & Dumber” is an easy song to label “devastating,” because it’s sad, but its power is more restorative than destructive. Yes, she’s singing about pain and about a relationship that took so much from her, but she isn’t just mining or exploiting that pain; she’s reflecting on her past trauma while affording herself grace. “Younger & Dumber” features an arrangement of sublime piano and pleading pedal steel.

When she belts “And the love I feel is so powerful / It can take you anywhere,” it’s revelatory. Anyone who’s been lucky enough to experience a revelation or reach a breakthrough knows that, while the initial act is satisfying, the aftermath is littered with new issues that present themselves. “Younger & Dumber” is a breakthrough. “Which way will I run when I want something new? / Which way will I run when I’m over you?” De Souza sings, now that she’s found clarity. If anyone can pick up the pieces of a breakthrough, it’s her. In turn, All of This Will End signals that she’s done so already.

Eric Bennett is a music critic in Philadelphia with bylines at Pitchfork, Post-Trash, and The Alternative. They are also a co-host of Endless Scroll, a weekly podcast covering the intersection of music and internet culture. You can follow them on Twitter at @violet_by_hole.