From their earliest days as a band, CHASE PETRA’s music has been about growth: growing up, growing out, growing tired of what others expect of you. The Long Beach, CA-based trio swept onto the underground scene in 2018 with a blend-o-matic spin on alternative, emo, and pop on their debut LP, Liminal, and now, more than 20 million streams and tens of thousands of miles logged later, the follow-up, LULLABIES FOR DOGS (Wax Bodega), elevates the existential questions that pepper life’s long, unpredictable journey.
“We were literal children when we started,” laughs vocalist/guitarist Hunter Allen (she/her), who began playing music with drummer Evan Schaid (he/him) when the two were teenagers. “We all went from throwing spaghetti at a wall to being these weird, anxiety-ridden adults – and that’s kind of fine. That’s ultimately what life is.”
Co-produced by Schaid and frequent collaborator Scoops Dardaris, the 13 songs on Lullabies for Dogs alternate timeless melodicism (the somber, Cranberries-leaning “Two Nights In New York” and hypnotic acoustic-based “Icarus”) and tireless energy (“Centrifugal Force” and “Bread And Circus,” which crash with the sonic unpredictability of early Panic! At the Disco) – further establishing Allen, Schaid and bassist Brooke Dickson (she/they) as one of the scene’s most adroit acts.
“The reason our songs come off as a little genre-confused is because there’s no aim,” Allen says. “In this band, it’s always just shoot.” It’s this sense of figuring things out in real time that makes Chase Petra so relatable, underscored by Allen’s lyrics – occasionally funny, always poignant. Whether they’re holding a magnifying glass to the hypocrisy of organized religion (first single “Have Faith, Horatio”), mourning the end of a long-term relationship (“I Am My Own Dog”), falling head over heels for a new flame (“IWYTWT,” spearheaded by Dickson’s love of droning post-punk) or coming to the harsh realization there’s often no joy in retribution (“A Bug’s Life”), the band’s self-described “quarter-life-crisis pop” serves as finely detailed snapshots of the messiness and confusion that comes with your 20s.
Most importantly, they’re guided by the age-old push-and-pull between what it means to grow up and be grown up, to see your once-bright dreams dulled by the responsibilities of adulthood. It’s an age-old tale for working musicians, forced to face the harsh reality that comes when trying to bridge the gap between artistic aspirations and the stability of so-called practical pursuits.
“A lot of this record deals with what it means to be an adult who’s playing music and also has bills to pay,” Allen says. “I’ve wanted to do this my whole life, and I’ve never second-guessed that – but now my frontal lobe is fully developed, and I’m starting to wonder if this is really going to make me happy or if it’s going to tear me apart.”
This sort of internal questioning bookends the album, culminating in the galloping, ascendent album closer “Hospital Bills And Scratchers,” which references the band’s debut single, “Contractual,” and finds Allen not abandoning her ambitions, but rather retrofitting them to more neatly square with the valuable perspective she’s gained over the years. It’s not a moment of resignation, but a bold declaration that she won’t let success won’t come at the expense of her sanity – in the end, a true understanding of what will bring her happiness and, in turn, fulfillment.
“I’m not done making noise or pursuing this, but I am going to be doing this in a way that’s not just running until my legs give out,” she concludes. “What if I just want to play my guitar on a porch for a while? It doesn’t need to be some big great giant life – just something that will bring me joy.” ##
SHORT:
CHASE PETRA’s music has always been about growth: growing up, growing out, growing tired of what others expect of you. On their sophomore album, LULLABIES FOR DOGS (Wax Bodega), the Long Beach, CA trio once again elevates the existential questions that pepper life’s long, unpredictable journey.
The follow-up to 2018’s Liminal, Lullabies for Dogs alternates timeless melodicism (the somber “Two Nights In New York” and hypnotic acoustic-based “Icarus”) and tireless energy (“Centrifugal Force” and “Bread And Circus,” which crash with the unpredictability of early Panic! At the Disco) – establishing Allen, drummer Evan Schaid and bassist Brooke Dickson as one of the emo scene’s most adroit acts.
And it’s their sense of figuring things out in real time that makes Chase Petra so relatable, as the band’s “quarter-life-crisis pop” elevates deep introspection to navigate the messiness and confusion that comes with modern life. Their songs are guided by the age-old push-and-pull between what it means to grow up and be grown up, to see your once-bright dreams dulled by the responsibilities of adulthood and grapple with the fallout.
“A lot of this record deals with what it means to be an adult who’s playing music and also has bills to pay,” Allen says. “I’ve wanted to do this my whole life, and I’ve never second-guessed that – but now my frontal lobe is fully developed, and I’m starting to wonder if this is really going to make me happy or if it’s going to tear me apart.”