The second EP from Brighid Fry (aka Housewife) released a month ago, just before I had to travel for work, and I’m a bit embarrassed to say that I listened to it on release day and just kind of moved on. A couple of weeks ago “Matilda” showed up in another playlist, and it hooked me instantly. It’s playful indie pop, and surely the best song ever written about getting your bike stolen1. It doubles as an allegory for grief: “If you see Matilda / Just tell her I miss her”. When I went back to listen to Girl of the Hour again, I was fully drawn in. If you also breezed past it, I’m telling you: give it a chance, it’ll get you.
“Divorce” is a killer combination of gorgeous and memorable melody and devastating writing about betrayal. It’s one of several tracks on Girl of the Hour that blurs the lines between platonic and romantic relationships, a recurring theme across the collection. The EP version is great, but for me this is the definitive version:
You built a wall up in my house
Got your name on my deeds
If i knew that you were gonna lock me out
I’d have never cut you a key
Almost every song has a standout line or couplet, either a clever double entendre or something that sounds deeply confessional. On “I Lied”, Fry worries about her ability “To make my own messes / Turn friends to exes” as Fry considers dating a friend.
“Wasn’t You” closes the record with lyrics about a relationship that’s doomed before it even starts. In this interview with When The Horn Blows, Fry says exactly what I thought when listening to the song closely:
Her books have only been adapted into tv so far, but I could really see my music being used in a Sally Rooney adaptation. I love her books.
Fry’s songwriting, packed with double entendres and reflections on identity and personal growth, makes the EP feel a bit like snooping in someone’s diary, and I mean that in the best way. Girl of the Hour captures the messiness of early adulthood with a quiet honesty that resonates. It’s an EP that rewards repeat listens and a dive into the lyric sheet.
