Adult Mom began as the solo project of Stevie Knipe in a Purchase College dorm room in 2012. Adult Mom now falls between the playful spectrum of solo project and collaborative band with beloved friends and musicians Olivia Battell and Allegra Eidinger. Through reflections and explorations of the personal and hidden, the crux of the writing produced by Knipe is focused on excavation. The dredging out of the secrets, putting it all in a pan, waiting for the gold to rise. Honesty and intimacy form as Knipe writes clever pop songs that offer a glimpse into the journey of a gender-weird queer navigating through heartache, trauma and subsequent growth.
Ultimately, Driver is a meditation on the pitfalls of interiority, and what it takes to finally make the leap into full, fearless participation as we all grope around for the illusion of certainty.
In Driver, Adult Mom’s third studio release, Stevie Knipe delves into the emotional space just beyond a coming-of-age, where the bills start to pile up and memories of college dorms are closer than those of high school parking lots. Like so many other twenty-somethings, Adult Mom’s third LP seeks to answer the age old question: what now?
With an actualized sound, Adult Mom has arrived to soundtrack the queer rom-com they’ve been dreaming of since 2015. Driver incorporates an expert weaving of sonic textures ranging from synths and shakers to ‘00s-inspired guitar tones which convey a loving attention to detail. Songs like “Checking Up” act as 2020’s answer to “Linger” by the Cranberries with scintillating guitar tones and laments over lost loves stored in I-phone notes.
Stevie Knipe’s lyrics radiate an unmistakable honesty. Knipe’s lyrics have always relied on a level of wit and a sense of humor that is sorely lacking within Indie. Lyrics like, “And the only thing that I’ve done/ this month is drink beer and masturbate/ and ignore phone calls from you” on “Sober” are hilarious, and exist in the exact emotional beat between a laugh and a sob. Knipe is unafraid to explore the nuances of any situation. The mellow, dreamy, guitar riffs on “Dancing” exist in stark contrast to the lyrical content of the song, which detail a car crash. The motif of a car crash and subsequent image of love as a car crash appears several times throughout the record, starting with the first track “passenger”. The title of the record itself, Driver infers the transfer of power from passenger to driver, and the ability to take control of one’s own life. The steady syncopating drum-beat of “Frost” mirrors the heartbeat that Knipe doubts in “Breathing.” Ultimately, Driver is a beautiful meditation on the pitfalls of interiority, and what it takes to finally make the leap into full, fearless participation as we all grope around for the illusion of certainty.
On the final track Knipe sings, “I’m aware I might be too good at being alone/ I might be too good at closing myself off/ No one can let me out but myself,” and it’s true. This is the perfect record for anyone who needs the push to take a deep breath and realize that they know where they’re going.