Cherry Glazerr at Club Downunder

Society would deem that a prodigious girl can’t be in a progressive rock band while also being in complete control of its creative vision, business plan and social messaging. Society is wrong. Clem, a 19 year old teen Queen with a headstrong resolve like her hero Patti Smith and a cartoon laugh like Muttley the dog, dreamed up Cherry Glazerr in her LA bedroom alone and is perhaps more capable of figuring a music career out than anyone who attempts this treacherous life path. And yet, she carries herself very lightly. “This one’s going to be a flop!” she jokes, here to discuss the newly lined-up trio’s second album, Apocalipstick. It’s every bit as epic, funny, life-assuring, doom-defiant and flaming fire as that title sounds. What’s more, it’s the soundtrack to their collective rockstar evolution.

Today things look a little different from the band’s early days back in 2014 when they were associated with much-loved Cali imprint Burger Records (who put out their intoxicating debut Haxel Princess) and Suicide Squeeze (who released the Had Ten Dollaz 7-inch). Back then, they were born as a different trio, featuring Hannah Uribe and Sean Redman who have since both moved onto other artistic pursuits.

The band’s newfound self-discipline and motivation has evolved Cherry Glazerr into a wildly complex, hugely guitar heavy, and unapologetically loud machine. “People may be shocked by the jump in our sound,” says Sasami, eager to establish that this record isn’t intended to be some fancy statement about reaching their pinnacle. It was simply an opportunity they couldn’t turn down. Clem has since learned how to quit focusing her attention on the fans or wider critical response. “There was a time when I just couldn’t write songs because of that. You can’t do that,” she says. “You can’t be emotionally free if you’re pandering to anyone. Serving the music is the one and only thing that matters.” That’s hard when you have people telling you what to do all the time.