In 2021, songwriter Jessica Dobson and her band, Deep Sea Diver, gave an arresting performance inside the famous “red room” from Twin Peaks. Or, not exactly; Deep Sea Diver had recreated the room for a quarantine-era home concert series, their attempt to inject a dose of wonder and inspiration into the interminable sameness of lockdown. The meticulous backdrop seemed fitting for a band whose explosive indie rock traffics in carefully calibrated dynamics, and Dobson’s widescreen, off-kilter soundscapes seemed right at home inside the Lynchian dreamworld.
Billboard Heart is Deep Sea Diver’s fourth album, and their first after the breakout success of 2020’s Impossible Weight. That album was the band’s first release on a label, and landed Deep Sea Diver an opening spot on tour with Pearl Jam and their first placement on a Billboard chart. Though Billboard Heart comes in the wake of success, it’s not so much a victory lap as a record of grit—the sheen in its propulsive, riff-laden songwriting not the glow of self-satisfaction but the blistering aftermath of hard work.
Deep Sea Diver deftly modulates their energy over the course of Billboard Heart, whose front half zigzags through cinematic scene-setting and jittery accelerations, and whose back half mellows into a more pensive slow burn. Dobson was formerly a touring guitarist for the Shins and Beck, and her expressive, commanding playing shows off the mastery of an in-demand instrumentalist. Tracks like “See in the Dark” and “Let Me Go” are rooted by blown-out, gnarled guitar solos; on the latter, in which she duets with singer-songwriter Madison Cunningham, their raging guitars intertwine like ivy climbing a crumbling stone wall. There’s a new level of yearning intensity to Dobson’s vocals, too—in “Emergency” and “Shovel,” she seems to sing the verses through gritted teeth, then lets loose a howl, belting like her anxiety is a predator that needs scaring off.
Billboard Heart’s songs are detail-studded and dense, filled out by Dobson’s bandmates, drummer Peter Mansen and synth player Elliot Jackson, and a handful of additional contributors adding bass, strings, steel guitar, and more. Mansen and co-producer Andy D. Park pack “What Do I Know” with insistent percussion and drum loop samples; “Emergency”’s frenetic energy is kept aloft by indefatigable drumming and whining synths; a twinkling riff and winding bassline add sweetness to “Tiny Threads.” Nearly every song crashes to a crescendo at some point, and even the softest moments tend to end in controlled chaos—like “Loose Change,” which builds from a softly strummed murmur to a screech as Dobson howls, “Everything is changing/And I’m learning to love.” When words fail, there’s always a guitar solo, as in the cathartic, frenzied playing that ends the desperate-yet-hopeful “See in the Dark.”
A sense of unease permeates Dobson’s lyrics on Billboard Heart, in songs that speak plainly of hard goodbyes, self-doubt, and getting lost. But these songs don’t get stuck there; more often than not, they are fundamentally hopeful, a testament to fighting through darkness with faith in something brighter on the other side. “Don’t cover my eyes,” Dobson begs on “Emergency,” “I want to see it all.” The album’s woozy final track captures this hard-fought optimism, as Dobson repeats its title phrase, “happiness is not a given,” first as a gentle assertion, then as full-throated roar. Satisfaction takes effort; Dobson leaves no room for doubt that she’s in it for the long haul.
ALBUM REVIEWS
The leather jackets and skinny jeans worn by Noah Dillon and Chandler Ransom Lucy have become something of a signature, and the pair have hovered around the edges of the pop worlds in New York and Los Angeles for quite some time. First highlighted by NME during the Dimes Square resurgence in 2023, The Hellp have gradually stepped away from their earlier indie-sleaze imitation and leaned into something far more thoughtful. Their wild, neon-tinged party vibe has been traded for a more cinematic electronic approach that still holds onto a confident, self-aware attitude.
Dillon and Lucy started releasing music as The Hellp in 2016, with early mixtapes rooted in the chaotic nights and carefree behaviour once associated with NYC’s indie-sleaze staples like LCD Soundsystem and Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Over time, though, they’ve earned a steadily growing respect from critics. That rise has come through both their underground gigs, which have included a show at London’s Corsica Studios with Fakemink as support, and through Dillon’s expanding visual work that recently reached Rosalía’s ‘LUX’ album and a pair of music videos for 2hollis.
As ‘Riviera’ approached release, the duo shared: “We knew our next project would need to be a bit more mature… we refuse to become stagnant. ‘Riviera’ is more solemn, restrained and impassioned than anything we’ve done before.” The finished album feels like Dillon and Lucy carefully balancing identity and openness, theatricality and direct emotion.
The lead release, ‘Country Road’, carries a late-night heaviness, the kind of confession you would quietly tell a friend in a club’s smoking area. Its lonely tone is surrounded by glitching electronics and a rising bridge that points to the exhaustion that follows endless nights out. Tracks like ‘New Wave America’ and ‘Cortt’ deepen what the duo mention in their liner notes as a “desperate story of the disparate Americana.” Both pieces broaden the album’s emotional landscape and offer clear-eyed commentary on reluctantly stepping into adulthood.
When ‘Riviera’ shifts into ‘Doppler’, the tone brightens for a moment as hopeful synths lift Dillon’s words about yearning and heartbreak into an emotional peak. And in the final moments of the record, The Hellp land on something instantly familiar to anyone who has drifted away from the club scene. The Kavinsky-like opening of ‘Here I Am’ nods to their early inspirations, while the closing track ‘Live Forever’ arrives with a slow, grounded maturity, built around Dillon repeating the line: “I don’t want to live forever.”
‘Riviera’ holds far less disorder than The Hellp’s earlier releases. This turn inward marks an important risk for a duo once fuelled by the momentum of a downtown New York comeback. By easing off the frenzy, The Hellp have stepped out of the party’s lingering haze and returned with a style that feels more refined and more aware of itself than anything they have created before.
