OLIVIA J. BENNETT


I’m an arts writer, researcher and critic based in Australia, open to commissions and collaborations. 

I also work as a freelance communications specialist across brand, content and cultural strategy. 

If you’d like to see my portfolio or chat about a project, feel free to get in touch.

MAYHEM

Lady Gaga



Her first solo album in 5 years, Little Monster leader Lady Gaga returns with Mayhem, a record made for reviving the worn linoleum of an RSL dancefloor, or soundtracking the leathery, glitter-streaked fixtures of Mediterranean party islands. All 14 tracks congeal into one giant glob, a bouncy, synthetic formula for fabulousness that could pass as either a product or prototype of AI-generated pop. Don’t get me wrong, Gaga’s crystal-clear pop thematics and ultra-slick production smooth the grooves in your brain—effective, if only because it goes down easy. On ‘Disease’, falsetto “Ah aaahs” lure a club bad boy with ham-fisted I can fix him-style lyricism: “Poison on the inside / I could be your antidote tonight”. 'Garden of Eden', plays on the Genesis trope—and, shock horror, it’s not an apple but a boy who’s the temptation: “I could be your girlfriend for the weekend / You could be my boyfriend for the night / My excuse to make a bad decision… Poisoned apple, take a bite (oh)!”. More algo-pop than artpop, Mayhem trades chaos for calculation—but if all you want is a basic beat to bang your head to in a Zara change room, you’re in luck.

EVERY LINK IS A BROKEN PROMISE


This tendency to perform progress while sidestepping its material implications is everywhere. An art university without an art gallery is as senseless as software without hardware. Just like a digital art collection with no evolving archival strategy, both suggest an infrastructure that no longer serves its cultural purpose. 

THE VICES—BEFORE IT MIGHT BE GONE


Joking aside, Jonathan [Kruizenga] clarifies, “We’re probably the least rock and roll band if you think of it like that. We don’t drink at shows. We don’t use drugs. We try to stay healthy.” The idea of vice, for them, has always been about something else—not indulgence, but obsession. “It’s about letting music take over your whole life and sharing that with others,” Jonathan says. It’s a force that pulls you under, something you willingly surrender to. Like a wave, it builds, grows and carries you forward before you even realize it.

Photography: Matt Weinberger. 

EUSEXUA

FKA twigs


1/2

FKA twigs makes her long anticipated return with her third studio album, EUSEXUA, an ecstatic, otherworldly plunge into avant-dance-pop. Her fluid, meditative vocals weave through percussive highs and lows, vibrating with a soft yet full-bodied confidence—somewhere between Björk’s elastic range and Madonna at her most ethereal. The album breathes—rising, falling, pulsing—drawing from techno and acid house’s hypnotic beats, ambient and baroque pop’s grandeur, trip-hop and experimental R&B’s murky sensuality and the sharp, kinetic rhythms of ballroom and vogue. ‘Girl Feels Good’ is hypnotic in its simplicity: “When a girl feels good / It makes the world go ‘round”. ‘Death Drums’ pounds with SOPHIE’s hyperpop aggression and Death Grips’ digital hardcore before dissolving into a whisper-soft plea: “Drop your skirt to the floor / Tear your clothes, body torn”. On 24hr Dog, warbling, polyphonic vocals coil around fuzzy guitar, surrendering completely: “Please don’t call my name / When I submit to you this way / I’m a dog for you”. An all consuming vision of femininity, EUSEXUA feels everything, everywhere, all at once–desire and destruction, surrender and power, ecstasy without limits.

PERVERT

Ethel Cain



Ethel Cain’s long-anticipated sophomore album Pervert is a pivot so strong, so well visioned, reminding die-hard fans that world-building comes at the expense of easy listening. Alongside the more palatable poetess of Lana Del Rey, Cain pushes in her stake to claim a new gothic romanticisation of the American South. Pervert’s languid composition layers deeply downtrodden ambient sounds with her characters’ subdued cries and siren calls. Red rusting strings, the fervent fuzz of thirsting electrical towers and the learned comfort of slack-handed chord progression. “I love you. I love you. I love you…” monotonously meditates ‘Houseofpsychoticwown’ into soft, sludge-filled oblivion. ‘Vacillator’ turns an outro drum tempo into a long drawn edge that only Cain can satisfy, but chooses to deny: “If you love me, then keep it to yourself.”  It’s an album that washes into you, rather than over you. Uninvited but unconsciously welcome, Pervert inspires a feeling of deep peace that can only come from skulking a rock bottom untoward faith—a place where very few dare to dance. 

SIREN SONGS

Sacred Hearts




This debut EP delivers devilish post-punk with a nod to the waterways and wayward ways of a not-so Sunshine State. Opener ‘Is It Cold?’ cuts through mist and mud, with heavy power chords and a wall of wails slicing through chilling synths and a relentless drumbeat. In ‘Concrete Bikini’, Ophelia is invoked as the protagonist sinks into the Enoggera Reservoir: “Seduced by the murky brown water/So I let it sink into me, I knew my fate.” Drawing from The Cure, Siouxsie and the Banshees and Joy Division, yet remaining distinctly their own, the tracks revel in a timeless tug-of-war between so-called good and evil. ‘Virgin/Whore’ twists the complexities of feminine experience into a swampy death roll. Meanwhile, ‘Crocodile Tears’ picks up the pace, closing the EP with an industrial Prodigy-like rage: “Take the silver spoon from your mouth/Replace it with tetanus and rust.” The EP’s pulsing, tachycardic heart thrums with raw cathartic energy–like an electric shock for those ready to ignite their rebellion. 



LURE


Lures are confusing. They’re mimetic in how they try to replicate the amphibious and memetic in the shapeshifting play they engage with. At first cast, their performance feels calculatedly vulnerable, even as their purpose remains crystal clear. It’s this very calculation that slips through your fingers—a chasm of desire and denial ignited by the anxious churn of choppy water, with Bundy rum sloshing in the boat’s bowels and the chum, both fish and friend, surfacing along the way. 

Exhibition text (Front). Retrieved from Outer Space website. 
 Image Courtesy of the artists. 
Exhibition text (Back). Retrieved from Outer Space website.

YOU, ME & EUGENE


It’s the same loop of never-ending think pieces blaming social media for our alienation—"the internet controls everything," then, "the internet isn’t real life." Well, which is it? The Code forces these anal-gazing auteurs to confront themselves, answering back with: "You signed up for this, remember?"

Still from The Code (2024), dir. Eugene Kotlyarenko, featuring Peter Vack and Dasha Nekrasova.

VULTURES 2

Kanye West & Ty Dolla $ign




Kanye West and Ty Dolla $ign’s Vultures 2 stumbles under the weight of its predecessor's hype, perfectly failing a reverse Bechdel test. The album’s delayed release—a now typical move for the duo—only adds to the disservice. What was once a world of sonic innovation feels rushed and uninspired, with tracks like "PROMOTION" and "HUSBAND" not only objectify women but cross into a more sinister, coercive narrative. Lyrics like “I just put your b**** on another b**** and hit ‘em both” or “All you really need is a husband/The only thought you ever need is ‘I trust him’” highlight this disturbing shift. Despite technically polished production, the album lacks careful consideration. "SKY HIGH" offers a fleeting moment of sincerity through its interpolation of The Five Stairsteps' "O-o-h Child" with the line, "Ooh, child, things are going to get easier." Ultimately, Vultures 2 is blinded by self-indulgence, leaving listeners with little more than a hollow echo of what once was.




SEASHELL ANGEL 
LUCKY CHARM

Armlock




Melbourne duo Armlock have returned with new LP Seashell Angel Lucky Charm. The album expands on the intricate world built on their last record Trust (2021), with chord-forward melodies, steady beats, angelic harmonies, and intricate noise elements infused with whimsical vocal snippets. Like Trust,  Seashell Angel Lucky Charm radiates a bittersweet charm, but perhaps a bit more bitter this time, with Simon Lam’s lead vocals front and centre—muted, reserved, yet masterful. His tone is soothing, like scratching a soft, satisfying itch. The introspective, indie-rock sensibility of Something For Kate’s Echolalia is present in the lyrics that navigate the battle for space in one’s mind, a tug-of-war between fears and desires. Whether it's the feeling of being stuck in an open door in ‘Guardian,’  turning a step into a pirouette to ‘Godsend’s’ synthy piano, locking elbows in ‘Fear, or the imagery of being ankle-deep in ‘Ice Cold’, this album delicately dances between idolatry and iconoclasm. It’s an album about loving purposefully yet unrequitedly, and an exercise in seeing devotion as a pattern of release and capture.