Chapter 3
Talia Russo hates Eve Olsen. Talia used to love Eve. PRELAPSARIAN? Chef’s kiss. ski rat? The album that powered Talia through her last breakup! Which is why Talia would love if someone could please account for the clusterfuck that is Sunbeam, Baby.
See, Sunbeam, Baby is essentially the Cheesecake Factory of albums. It’s dressed up in clothes that look fancy from a distance, but once you get close, you realize it’s all polyester and medium-density fiberboard.
Eve Olsen was never the best singer, but Talia cherished those little rasps and imperfections that have now been summarily smoothed over by autotune and spoken-word bridges.
And the repetition! Okay, yes, “Evergreen” was kind of catchy at first. But literally none of the other songs on the album are distinguishable from one another.
Eve! You did not seriously I–V–vi–IV? The most overused of all modern pop chord progressions?
The production is simple. The songwriting is confessional, but everything confessed is obvious. Whenever Eve is about to get vulnerable, to get specific, she pulls away and offers a cliché instead. The final product is neither literary nor full of feeling. It’s just: soulless.
When Talia DMs Eve Olsen’s official Instagram account, she doesn’t really think that Eve will read it or care.
Maybe Eve doesn’t even care about the fans who’ve loved her since PRELAPSARIAN, anyway.
But Talia has had a shitty day at work in a long string of shitty days at work, and Talia also always wanted to be a musician, and she just can’t stand to see Eve wasting her chance.
So she sends out her DM plea. And she feels, for just a moment, catharsis.