Last year, the lo-fi, indie-pop sounds of TV Girl first graced my ears with their album, Death of a Party Girl. Hailing from California, Brad Petering, Jason Wyman, and Wyatt Harmon, the trio behind TV Girl, characterize their music as “hypnotic pop,” a fitting description for their blend of electro-synths, cinematic samples, and chillwave vibes. Their tracks often feel like the perfect accompaniment to a sun-drenched afternoon, weaving together sample loops, hip-hop rhythms, and ethereal melodies to craft a distinct atmospheric sound. Adding to their unique flavor, frontman Petering’s sardonic lyrics, delivered with a characteristically deadpan tone, inject an offbeat, ironic humor into their Tv Girl Songs. However, the nuanced charm of their studio recordings didn’t fully translate to their live performance.
Their Sunday night gig at the intimate Gasa Gasa venue presented TV Girl with an opportunity to showcase their musicality in a more personal setting. Regrettably, the live rendition fell short of capturing the magic inherent in their albums. For instance, the distinctive sample in “Taking What’s Not Yours,” a crucial element of the song’s appeal, became lost amidst the live keyboard synthesizers, stripping the track of its inherent catchiness. Similarly, the vocal harmonies, so seamlessly blended on record, sounded disjointed and somewhat rough around the edges in the live setting. Even Petering’s signature conversational and droll vocal style, a highlight of their recorded tv girl songs, lost its impact on stage. The band struggled to replicate the vocal synchronization perfected in their albums, and the amplified instrumentation diluted the lyrical wit that typically serves as the backbone of their tracks. This performance served as a stark reminder of the challenges in recreating digitally crafted music in a live context, and a cautionary tale for artists whose artistry is deeply intertwined with digital production techniques.
While the atmospheric subtleties were lacking, a captivating stage presence from the band members might have compensated. Instead, Petering’s demeanor came across as somewhat awkward and unprepared. He interrupted the set at least twice with rambling monologues touching on themes of love, breakups, and even men with “nice hair.” While mid-show banter can be engaging for established stars with devoted fan bases hanging on their every word, Petering and TV Girl are not yet at that level of fame. His aspirations for rock star charisma seemed to outpace his current reality, and the audience, even the most ardent fans, visibly lost interest during these extended speeches, eager for the music to resume.
A defining characteristic of TV Girl’s artistic identity is their pronounced affinity for nostalgia, particularly for vintage cinema. Many of their tv girl songs incorporate samples from classic American and French noir films, layering snippets of dialogue – notably, almost exclusively female voices – into their sonic collages. This technique initially appears to be a satirical commentary on old-fashioned romance, especially when juxtaposed with the often-dysfunctional modern relationships Petering dissects in his lyrics.
However, TV Girl’s nostalgic yearning for a perceived golden age of Hollywood glamour also unveils a more troubling undercurrent: problematic gender dynamics embedded within the TV Girl project. Their artistic focus becomes intensely fixated on women, presenting them both as unattainable muses and as figures of blame for male emotional distress. Their branding frequently revolves around the archetype of the female enigma, a woman perpetually mysterious and incomprehensible to men. The band’s iconic visual often features the image of a retro pin-up girl or a classic French film star. This nameless, idealized woman even took a silent observer role on stage, represented by a cardboard cutout positioned behind the band.
This preoccupation with women extends further into their discography. The Death of a Party Girl album features song titles like “Lonely Girls,” “Every Stupid Actress,” and the titular “Death of a Party Girl.” Their debut album, French Exit, demonstrates an even stronger female-centric theme with tracks such as “Pantyhose,” “Louise,” “The Blonde,” “Daughter of a Cop,” “Her and Her Friend,” and “Anjela.” However, this apparent fascination with the “female enigma” should not be mistaken for a feminist perspective. Instead, it often reads less as genuine appreciation or respect for women and more as a process of “othering” women, casting them as the source of Petering’s perceived bitterness and romantic disappointments.
Many tv girl songs’ lyrics function as a platform for lamenting failed relationships and cataloging women who have supposedly caused heartbreak. Initially, Petering’s self-deprecating humor can be amusing, but a deeper look at his recurring themes reveals a pattern. His songwriting increasingly appears to be an outlet for airing grievances about women who have wronged him, while conveniently sidestepping any acknowledgment of his own role or responsibility within these relationship failures.
These songs often fail to portray women as complex, individual human beings. Instead, they tend to reduce them to a monolithic concept of “womanhood,” characterized by an inscrutable and illogical nature, at least from a male perspective. This portrayal echoes a dangerous trope prevalent in online Incel (“involuntary celibate”) communities, which irrationally blame women for men’s struggles in forming and maintaining relationships or achieving sexual intimacy. These online spaces and ideologies have contributed to the radicalization of young men who unfairly hold women accountable for their own loneliness and social isolation. While it’s not accurate to label TV Girl members as Incels, their songs’ unhealthy fixation on – and mystification of – women aligns uncomfortably with this problematic rhetoric.
Adding to the disconcerting atmosphere of the live show, Petering utilized the stage as a platform to flirt with his predominantly young, female audience. The crowd seemed receptive to his advances, and he appeared determined to capitalize on their attention. He launched into a somewhat cliché monologue about roses as a metaphor for life, culminating in tossing a bouquet of roses into the audience. This overplayed attempt to charm the crowd felt forced and cringeworthy, particularly in light of the lyrical themes explored in tv girl songs.
His awkward and transparent attempts to woo the female portion of the audience might inadvertently shed light on the relationship dynamics described in his song lyrics. As a project spearheaded by three male musicians with a largely female fanbase, the entire performance and lyrical content presented a disappointing picture. While their albums demonstrate potential as an innovative and eclectic pop endeavor, TV Girl urgently needs to critically examine and address the misogyny that permeates their songs and overall artistic presentation. Despite their aspirations for rock star status, TV Girl has not yet earned the platform to perpetuate such problematic themes without facing serious critical reflection and change.
