This tension-between baring oneself and crafting delicious, tongue-in-cheek art-is what drives so much of the foundational queer media to which Death of a CheerleaderВ pays homageВ (not in the least its film namesake, But IвЂ™m a Cheerleader).

On вЂњHead Cheerleader,вЂќ antsy and anthemic, Berrin promises us that вЂњmy worst decisions are the ones I like the bestвЂќ before she heads under the bleachers, even as she acknowledges moments later that вЂњmy feelings always make a fucking fool of meвЂќ on the breathless, punky вЂњLuxвЂќ (named for the Virgin SuicidesВ heroine, of course), she boasts feeling вЂњnaked without taking off any of my clothes,вЂќ and itвЂ™s as much a come-on as it is an admission of terrifying exposure, couched in BerrinвЂ™s dare-laden drawl. Here, too, are all the overlapping, contradictory tenets of 21st-century young womanhood-the carnality and the vulnerability, the sugar and the defiance. The result of this stymying, galvanizing period-of escaping to come back-is Death of a Cheerleader.В Produced SarahВ TudzinВ of Illuminati Hotties and co-produced by Berrin, the album moves through moods like a camera panning across an expertly collaged bedroom wall: a Ronettes drum beat here (вЂњHead CheerleaderвЂќ), a Doris DayВ nod there (вЂњThis CouldnвЂ™t HappenвЂќ), the impossible romance of swelling strings (вЂњCryingвЂќ) collapsing into guitar thrash (вЂњDrunk VoicemailвЂќ). How rock was invented by a black queer woman-Sister Rosetta Tharpe-but I grew up feeling like I was odd for loving guitar-based music.вЂќ вЂњ brought to the surface these feelings IвЂ™d been stewing on for a long time,вЂќ she says, вЂњthinking about the history of American popular music, the way that black artists are constantly erased from the music they pioneered. вЂњIt takes you out of the world for a minute.вЂќ At the same time, though, she was confronted daily with the worldвЂ™s stark reality as protests erupted against police brutality and anti-black racism following the murder of George Floyd. вЂњIt was comforting, listening to music thatвЂ™s so evocative and cinematic,вЂќ she says. Lost in the free-fall of isolation, Berrin found herself returning to classic, familiar sounds: jazz vocalists like Billie Holiday, the warm tones ofВ MoTown. Following the release of their sophomore EP Ow, PomВ PomВ Squad was looking at a packed 2020, with shows at SXSW and opening for The Front Bottoms-but of course, plans changed. The group cut their teeth playing packed Brooklyn apartments, but they quickly graduated to packed Brooklyn venues alongside artists like Soccer Mommy, Adult Mom, and Pronoun. Berrin first played under the moniker in 2015 after moving to New York to study acting at NYU-though she soon transferred to the Clive Davis Institute of Recorded Music-and it was at those early gigs that she linked up with Shelby Keller (drums), and Alex Mercuri (guitar). But it wasnвЂ™t until Berrin got into punk and grunge-artists like Courtney Love and Kathleen Hanna, who were both unapologetically outspoken and unapologetically femme-that she knew she had to start a band.Д®nter PomВ PomВ Squad. вЂњI absorbed everything I could and tried to make a collage that could incorporate every piece of me,вЂќ she says-and in the process, she gained a particular appreciation for the heady mix of music and visuals, how a great song could become even greater when woven into an artistвЂ™s overall aesthetic. вЂњAs a teenager, I was always looking to see myself represented,вЂќ Berrin says, вЂњbut I never really saw a path drawn out for someone who looked like me.вЂќ So she held tight to the glimpses of herself she could catch-from Death Cab For Cutie to Sade from the camp and synth-pop of HeathersВ to the pastels and gloomy mellotron of The Virgin Suicides from John WatersвЂ™s take on suburbia to David LynchвЂ™s. Of course, displacement can start to feel like a life sentence when even the pop culture youвЂ™re trying to escape into doesnвЂ™t feel like home.

But now, tumbling through her first queer romance-and her first queer heartbreak-some of that self-separateness began to mend: вЂњSuddenly,вЂќ she says, вЂњI was in a body that was mine.вЂќ вЂњI realized I had been living a life that was not my own, watching myself from the outside.вЂќ As a kid who bounced from town to town growing up, and as a person of color in predominantly white spaces, Berrin had become accustomed to maintaining a constant awareness of how others perceived her-a вЂњsplit-brain mentalityвЂќ that she adopted as a necessary means of survival. Sure, sheвЂ™d been in love before, but this time, something was different: вЂњIt just felt like a switch had flipped inside my head,вЂќ she says. When PomВ PomВ SquadвЂ™s Mia Berrin was 21 years old, she fell in love.

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