mealworm – mealworm | EP Review
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Self-Released
Sometimes nothing feels as good as a fresh start, and nobody knows that better than Colleen Dow. You might recognize that name as the mind behind the emo-adjacent indie rock group Thank You, I’m Sorry or from the synthy solo project under their own name. After releasing one of the best albums of 2023 with Growing in Strange Places, Dow is back with mealworm, a new band with a new name where everything is on their own terms.
Continuing the trend of change, fresh starts, and rebirths, mealworm also comes hot on the heels of Dow relocating from Seattle to Portland, Oregon, a move that probably feels lateral to some but a trade that does my Pacific Northwest heart good. With this move, Dow took the opportunity to create a new project that allowed them to go “all in” on music, self-releasing and self-promoting everything for maximum creative control.
Inspired by the output of Sam Ray and the roster of Orchid Tapes, mealworm initially started as Dow wanting to create a “dinky lo-fi project” that felt like it would fit the vibe of this playlist. The 4.5-hour inspiration mix titled “salvia plath but i’m 24” feels apt for a batch of songs that ranges from ‘90s heavy-hitters like Yo La Tengo and Elliot Smith to recent slowcore and shoegaze acts. The playlist has lots of mid-budget indie like Slow Pulp, Alex G, Hovvdy, and Wednesday, but it also scales down to lowkey bands in the same vein like Sadurn and Babehoven.
Given this impressive list of influences, it might sound like a lot to fit under one roof, but luckily, Dow manages to balance everything beautifully and is able to showcase a stunning range in just three songs. It also helps that Dow’s singing voice remains as unmistakable as ever, offering a charming fixture across every one of their projects. If you’re even remotely familiar with any of Lleen’s other bands, their voice helps give mealworm an immediately recognizable feel, like catching up with an old friend after they just got a colorful new dye job. It also leads to interactions like this.
The self-titled EP kicks off with “meal plans,” which begins with a solitary acoustic pluck rendered direct to tape in a scratchy, lo-fi quality. It’s gorgeous, but after a few repetitions, Lleen misses a note, pauses, and laughs it off with a discouraged “fuck.” You hear someone else laugh along off-mic, and it immediately turns this botched take into a cute little moment between two people. It feels like the perfect way to welcome the listener into the release, practically sitting you there right alongside Dow as they strum along on their acoustic guitar. It draws you in, disarms you, and gives an immediate sense of intimacy, all within the first twelve seconds.
Good, because that moment of levity proceeds eight minutes of pretty intense music that delves into some heavy depictions of grief, depression, and loss. In these songs, it feels like Lleen is more confessional, open, and raw than ever before. There are no fun choruses propping up “meal plans” like there would be on a TYIS song, just a beautiful guitar melody as we wade headfirst into capitalistic monotony.
Made a meal plan for this week
Counted every single dollar for groceries
Living paycheck to paycheck
Barely breaking even, guess I earned it
Then, the song switches from the external realities of our narrator’s day-to-day to their inner world, which we soon learn is just as dire.
Watch my dead friends dance for me
Counting every single step, pretending they could breathe
And I cried for you and for me
Pretending you could hear me again just for me
The last line cuts you deep like a knife to the gut. The words gnash like something off Sprained Ankle, yet somehow, we continue, pulled forward only by the strum of the guitar and a distorted electronic warble. From there, the song moves onto other forms of monotony, like brushing your teeth, making your bed, and turning off the porch light. This mirrors the feeling of the first few lines before repeating the morbid second verse and fading out. Loss begets sadness; sadness begets more loss.
After an emotional barrage like that, a musician as skilled as Dow knows to give the listener a slight reprieve. Enter “stick n poke,” a song that’s not exactly upbeat but still has a nice little bop to it, sounding like the skies clearing after a classic Pacific Northwest downpour. In this track, we hear Lleen attempting to clear their head, going on drives and picking up minor distractions in an attempt to shake the thought of someone who’s left a mark on them.
As the song unfolds, we hear of a person whose “crooked teeth [are] Illuminated in bright pink beams,” and it becomes clear that this is a song of love and loss in equal measure.
I called you up,
Your number’s been disconnected
It’s been a year since you died
I think about you all the time, wishing you were here
Again, the words slice through the melody and land on your heart in a heavy way. A few lines later, we learn that Dow “moved away and never spoke / never got to say goodbye,” robbing them of any possible closure. This is not just a relatable sentiment but also feels like a major theme for mealworm as a project. Sometimes a fresh start means unfinished things never get to see their conclusion. The track feels like an old shirt in the back of your closet, with Dow shining a light on the loose threads, illuminating those things you expect to resolve themselves but end up disappearing entirely.
The EP ends on “take out receipts,” a jaw-dropping song that blew my mind on first listen and has now solidified itself as one of my favorite things Dow has ever recorded. The track begins with a bloopy chiptune loop reminiscent of Ryan Galloway’s work on BUMPER, a vibe that immediately sounds different than anything else on the EP. As the uplifting electronic ping warms the listener up from the depressive haze of the first two songs, it also opens them up to receive some of Dow’s most powerful lyricism yet.
Again, we get glimpses into the mundanities of our narrator’s life, which paint a picture of passivity and the desire to change but not enough willpower to commit or follow through. The plants are overwatered, the books are gathering dust, and the takeout receipts are the only way to mark the passage of time. After a minute, the guitar kicks in right as all the problems seem to converge on our narrator at once. Then we get to the heart of it.
I feel me withering away
While I lie in the same spaces
Felt my bones begin to break
What’s the use in growing if I always stay the same?
The final minute of the song is spent repeating that last until the question becomes a hypnotic mantra. The words take hold of the listener and cast a spell like a Mazzy Star song. As Dow drills these words into the listener’s brain, they force us to internalize the prompt and ask ourselves the same thing in the process. What’s the use in growing if I always stay the same? This is all underscored by a gorgeous instrumental crescendo that feels nothing short of revelatory, making for a sweeping final track that also feels like a career-best.
As someone who’s been a fan of Lleen’s work for years, mealworm is an exciting synthesis of everything that Dow has done before but pointed in a promising new direction that has already paid off in some of Dow’s best songs. It may only be three tracks, but everything is delivered in an all-white, lowercase package that feels full of boundless possibilities. There are still artistic throughlines that make this project feel like a familiar extension of Dow’s other music, but the sentiments here circle around something even more honest and profound. If mealworm’s first EP is any indication, sometimes a fresh start can be the only thing standing between you and the rest of your life.
