Cotillion – “gm”

Self-released

I don’t give a fuck what some copypasta on the internet says; emo pop was and always will be real emo. The reason each wave, with their vast stylistic differences, is still classifiable under that one incredibly unspecific genre tag is that there is only one thing that makes a song emo. When you listen, does it feel like it has pinned down a deeply particular emotion that you thought only you were feeling? Does that isolation start to fade away? So, if you’re still in doubt about emo pop, give Cotillion’s debut single, “gm,” a spin. 

Led by Brooklyn DIY scene fixture Carly Kerr, Cotillion is a veritable supergroup that also includes Nora Knox (Crush Fund) on the drums, and dual guitars from Rohan Rangray (look at the bones) and Lorelai Gabriel (Killing Pixies). On “gm,” the band play the extremely melodramatic pop-punk of Three Cheers-era MCR and 2007 Paramore to a T with some noodly Midwestern riffs thrown in for good measure. Cotillion sonically ties each wave of emo together, creating a bombastic sound that matches the emotion expressed. 

Each guitar lick is as much of a knife in the gut as the vocals. Add a forceful rhythm section packed with knee-weakening drum fills, and the band leaves quite an impression. Kerr’s singing, though, is what sets Cotillion apart and makes their music such a revelation, as she approaches the task of selling the vocals on an emo song from a theatrical angle. Throughout the track, Kerr is belting as if she is delivering a desperate, aching, Minnelli-style number on Broadway. Kerr delivers every line like when in Cabaret singing “It’s gotta happen, happen sometime / maybe this time / maybe this time I’ll win.” That commitment to delivering a lyric like you are so overwhelmed by emotion that all you can do is sing is the same quality that made Hayley Williams an icon, and a feature the modern emo scene has lacked. Kerr’s style isn’t just an entertaining affect; it fits the occasion. 

“gm” portrays a relationship of mutually assured annihilative dependence with allusions to vampires, begging dogs, and direct address to the depressed: “Each night I go out searching for new forms of pain / what a relief to know I can feel anything.” As someone who recently ended a long-term relationship, hearing the lines “hurts to see you suffer / I never wanted to be honest / but the guilt makes a meal of me sometimes,” and “only killing time till I die / you unknowingly twist the knife / blood on your hands just to stay by my side” felt all too relatable to the experience of knowing you love someone, and wanting them to be happy, knowing you provide it, but yearning to be somewhere else. I thought I was the only one who felt that. What a relief to be proven wrong.