The Softies, with Lightheaded, 22º Halo
PhilaMOCA
531 N. 12th St.
Philadelphia
Oct. 3, 2024
“Write down that this is a bad song!” my recently heartbroken friend wept in my ear as I scrawled notes like an obsessive school girl about the pitch-perfect performance delivered by ‘90s sad girls, The Softies.
Indie pop duo and long-time friends Rose Melberg and Jen Sbragia took to the stage at PhilaMOCA Thursday night while touring their latest album, The Bed I Made. It’s the first record released by the pair after a two-decade pause in production.
The Softies are pioneers of low-fi girl pop who toured with the likes of Elliott Smith back in the day. When both of their moms passed away, the two returned to recording with each other, evolving the sound of their twenties into the music of middle-aged women feeling their way through fresh layers of love, loss and grief.
Most of the songs on the album read like uncannily relatable takes on romantic heartache and unwanted goodbyes, but the meaning of The Softies’ already staggering lyrics is strengthened by the musicians’ enduring best-friendship.
It was all too much for my own best friend, who broke up with her boyfriend mere weeks ago and couldn’t stop sobbing as The Softies went hardcore into their feelings. “I gotta say,” she said between tears, “this concert hurts.”
With their matching guitars, harmonious vocals and shared sense of twee ennui, Melberg and Sbragia — who are friends of more than 30 years — carry forward a feminine sensitivity that belies the startling clarity of their songs: “Every song is just a sigh/ A little moment going by/ A puff of smoke, a waterfall/ A long distance call,” they sing in “To you from me.”
I felt like penning a love letter to Melberg’s voice, which is angelically unreal. She captures fleeting dissonance through pitch flips so subtle they sound auto-tuned. The duo’s evident commitment to perfectionism is the only element of their performance that risks ruining the rawness of their message. It’s also contributed to their sustained relevancy, now that new Softies’ tracks like “California Highway 99” are taking off on TikTok.
In my opinion, modern musicians like Taylor Swift and Phoebe Bridgers have cashed in on the “sad girl” genre championed by The Softies by turning a collective truth into an identity. The brand has stayed around and sold big. The deep, human resonance that The Softies continues to channel through their commitment to specificity, however, has since faded into nothing but empty fangirling.
As The Softies launched into their track, “Hello Rain,” which Melberg wrote at just 22 while moving away from home for the first time, I felt water streaming down my face.
I wasn’t crying over an ex — I was thinking about my friend right next to me. Because unlike the person-first quality of celebrities like Taylor Swift, who make their own tiny tragedies the center of the story, The Softies reminds me that female friendship is about witnessing. We all make our own mistakes and live with personal regrets, but understanding comes most easily when we can escape our solipsism through empathy. I’ve found that kind of connection most consistently in my relationships with other girls experiencing pains highly proximate to my own.
There is nobody I know better than that girl standing next to me at The Softies show, crying over a boy the same way I watched her cry over a different boy back when we were in high school. That kind of deep knowing doesn’t come from studying — it’s an unconditional love born out of perfectionists feeling unafraid to show each other their soft or sour sides in addition to sweet.
After a 16-song set, Melberg announced that the Softies “don’t do encores. It’s just too embarrassing.”
There was just as much power in the band’s confessions as there was vulnerability — and with age only comes more power and more vulnerability.
“I hope we’re still doing this in our seventies,” Melberg told the audience.
“Fuck yeah!” Sbragia exclaimed in agreement.
