Elizabeth is a glamorous tragic, a queer pop anti-heroine holding a curtain of glittering melodies over ugly truths.
She makes pop songs that leave a lasting mark; lovebites that linger. Tasked with building out the world in Elizabeth’s deepest imagination was producer John Castle, who now adds Elizabeth to his roster of collaborators alongside Hatchie, Cub Sport, Jack River and Vance Joy.
Casting herself as the antagonist wielding pop songs as weapons, she wipes away her running mascara and escapes a destruction of her own making. This debutante divorcée has traded in her white veil for a cocktail and concocted a collection of shimmering heartbreak bangers that celebrate the femme and her indulgent indiscretions.
The addictive pull of people and the parties where they sway together in dark corners hangs like a cloud of smoke over her record. Through the dark, Elizabeth emerges as a tortured muse taking it all in with a pout, all batting eyelashes and ulterior motives, her platforms leaving ghostly marks behind on sticky carpets. Like Lana Del Rey, she proves to be an expert in extracting beauty from catastrophe, balancing a whimper and a snarl precariously on a knife’s edge.