Trace it closely enough and indie rock’s attitudinal arc falls into decade-long trends: apathy in the 1990s, irony in the 2000s, earnestness in the 2010s. If the genre plays its hand in cycles, then Chicago band Cusp—firmly a 2020s act—should be the ’90s reincarnated; they’ve already got the mix of melodic alt-rock guitars and college radio twee on lock. But singer-guitarist Jen Bender isn’t trying to fool anyone by playing it indifferent—least of all herself. On their sophomore album, What I Want Doesn’t Want Me Back, Cusp place one foot in front of the other on the journey to self-assurance, where overcoming small struggles is rewarded with small wins. They aren’t as flashy or aloof as forebears like Speedy Ortiz or Built to Spill, but Cusp are champions of bringing beauty to our humdrum realities. As Bender sings near the album’s end, “If you’re having fun/It’s enough for me.”
True to its title, much of What I Want Doesn’t Want Me Back concerns itself with the pursuit of validation, both as a band and as humans. What does the upper hand really get you if you lose it? How beneficial is healthy thinking if it can’t bump your salary to a living wage? In “Oh Man,” Bender tests how material possessions and relationships inform our identity, before finding her lightbulb moment: “Something that shines/Doesn’t reflect onto yourself.” Her voice flits between quotidian sing-speaking and crooning with a tangible longing. Whenever she observes her surroundings mid-song—tracking her footsteps, holding the sun in her palm—Bender brings a humility that feels anchored in the American heartland. Here, what keeps you up at night isn’t necessarily high-stakes drama; it’s back-to-basics questions of “How?” and “Why?” that go to the root of all things.
Bender’s at her lyrical best when she confronts her faults while leaving room for forgiveness. In “Follow Along,” she admits to obsessively comparing her insecurities: taking notes on a friend’s apartment decor, decoding footwear as a status symbol, studying reserved conversationalists in the effort to become mysterious. The song shifts, from a riff-forward rock single into a dreamy waltz with a distorted hook; so does Bender, who turns from a jealous checklist scribe dreaming of a makeover to a level-headed girl remembering why she’s good enough already: She’s a quick learner, loyal friend, and eager helper. “I am not slick,” she sings. “But I’m gonna get strong.”
