Noir Yet Transparent Things
Gia Ford’s debut album, Transparent Things, is a dark, seductive journey through rock horror anthems, blending 70s glam, 80s noir, and desert rock. With haunting lyrics, cinematic flair, and eerie visuals, Ford’s debut is a must-hear—perfect for soundtracking the season of shadows.
I’m delighted to announce that Queens of the Stone Age and Annie Lennox have welcomed a daughter: her name is Gia Ford. Along with her birth comes, on September 13th, the release of her debut album, Transparent Things, and I wish I could somehow hide my excitement.
Gia Ford, née Molly Cormick, was raised in Sheffield, one of the British meccas for rock music, and after two EPs with her previous label, her debut album is a toe-curling collection of rock horror anthems for the outcasts, set in a distant and hazy soundscape, with reminders to the ‘70s and ‘80s and a splash of desert rock, if I may add.
Haunting lyrics tell the tales of murderers blowing brains out, stalkers buzzing on women outside their homes, and ghosts. Yet, more personal experiences from the British songwriter’s past, as well as moments of lightness, find their place too. These stories are narrated by a girl who has always been drawn to darkness and noir tales, and who decided to build an androgynous, magnetic persona to bring them into music and chilling music videos, whose visual power is reminiscent of a forgotten Alfred Hitchcock movie.
Tony Berg produced the album, but there’s only one recording studio that could have hosted such vibes, sonorities, and Ford’s bewitching voice: Sound City Studios in Los Angeles. I may have had a fangirl moment when I discovered this connection, and I could talk for days about this studio's history and sound properties. What you need to know is that since its opening in 1969, Sound City has been the birthplace of extraordinary and groundbreaking albums by incredible bands (Fleetwood Mac, Queens of the Stone Age, Nirvana, and more recently, Boygenius, to name a few). Transparent Thingshas what it takes to carry on this legacy.
Gia Ford, photographed by Melanie Lehmann, shared via NME
I have a particular obsession I may share with others: discovering unknown artists and becoming infatuated with their music through unhealthy amounts of listening. I tend to gatekeep my musical treasures (yes, I permit you to picture me as a Gollum-like creature but with green eyes), especially since they are the result of countless hours spent trawling the internet and streaming platforms. But there comes a moment when I cannot stop myself from sharing my discoveries, and this is one of those times.
I had never heard of Gia Ford until two weeks ago, when I stumbled upon a collaborative release calendar page on Genius (the online music encyclopedia), and something about that name on my gleaming screen drew me in. After listening to the singles from the album, I quickly realized that gatekeeping wasn’t morally conceivable this time, nor possible considering how terrific this work is, not only for a debuting artist but as a musician in general. As I write this, the spooky season has begun. Leaves are falling, temperatures are dropping, and this album from this androgynous killer witch feels like an early Christmas gift.
