As you might guess, a stage name like “Dream Wife” is a reference to an era before that precedes the feminist movement. The London-via-Brighton indie-pop trio of Icelandic vocalist Rakel Mjöll, British guitarist Alice Go and British bassist Bella Podpadec were inspired by MGM’s 1953 romantic comedy of the same name, which features Cary Grant, Deborah Kerr, a princess from the fictional nation of Bukistan, and the surprising twist that Grant’s character does not ultimately desire a woman who will be solely contented with “having babies and taking care of a man".
Dream Wife was initially an art project by art students, but the results were revelatory enough to live long beyond the gallery exhibition showcase the project was initially intended for. The trio’s appeal lies chiefly in the irresistible vigor they bring to the perpetual question of “womanhood”, which exists alongside the expected explorations of youth, love, heartbreak, and lust. Their debut EP EP01 (2016), second EP Fire (2017) and self-titled debut LP (January 26, 2018) draws sonic and vocal inspirations from guitar-driven indie rock (Yeah Yeah Yeahs), the feminist-minded punk of the riot grrrl movement (Sleater-Kinney), mainstream chameleons (Madonna, David Bowie), and melodic pop (Spice Girls).
“Lolita”, the third track from their debut EP, is a great example of how they carve something novel out of the familiar. There is a catchy hook (‘I've been your Lolita / I've been your toy / I've been your saviour’) which resolves in a gender-bending twist (‘And I've handled it like a boy’) - grounded in the intersection of rock, disco and new wave that Blondie introduced to the mainstream. Mjöll’s vocals are emotive, but she avoids making the song singularly about either despair, regret, anger, or bitterness. This is not an excavation of trauma, but a wistful remembrance of an ordeal one has placed behind her.
Dream Wife may not have grandiose thesis statements about feminism and gender equality, but they succeed at taking down traditional gender roles with wit, verve, and inspired mania. On “Let’s Make Out”, the opening track of their debut LP, Mjöll’s screaming singing style and Icelandic accent captures the perceived subversiveness of youthful sexual exploration and its accompanying hedonic surge. She sounds anything but shy, but screams ‘Are we too shy?’ a few times before putting the listener on the spot: ‘Are you still too shy?’ (After that uninhibited and unapologetic demonstration of female sexual desire, probably not).
Their most political and contemporary statement arrives via “Somebody”, which dives right into criticism of the culture of sexual harassment and coercion in the music scene and beyond: ‘You were a cute girl standing backstage/ It was bound to happen/ You had a smile across your face/ It was bound to happen/ What you wore and how you bore it so well/ What did you expect would happen?’ Mjöll brilliantly condenses the band’s stance against disempowering sexual objectification in the chorus: ‘I am not my body/ I am somebody’.
Dream Wife also examines the vulnerabilities, fragilities, and insecurities of everyday womanhood, but they are most captivating when they channel all their creative energies towards a vision of feminist empowerment.
