Evangelic Girl Is A Gun

On Nat Ćmiel’s fourth album, styles perfected and popularised by subversive 90s acts – Massive Attack and Nine Inch Nails will spring to mind – provide the guidance needed to explore new soundscapes, encouraging the singer-songwriter to surpass all previous achievements.

The songs feel simultaneously surreal and lucid, possessing sonic, lyrical, and narrative depth that exists in a liminal state, suspended between recognition and distortion.

At its worst (or rather, least good), Evangelic Girl is a Gun is “merely” interesting—it’s just fun to hear what yeule does next! At its best, though, yeule’s latest work is quintessentially 2025, an all-killer-no-filler, hypermodern take on music—pop or otherwise—circa 2004. In that way, Evangelic Girl is a Gun—a record that doesn’t miss—is can’t-miss, appointment listening.

Evangelic Girl is a Gun would be parallel to [David Bowie's] Young Americans.

In all, ‘Evangelic Girl is a Gun’ is a flex of pop ingenuity.

In some ways, Evangelic Girl Is a Gun doesn't feel quite as personal as yeule's previous albums -- the lyrics don't always delve into specific subjects such as dissatisfaction with their own body -- and its sound feels a bit more comfortably retro compared to the dystopian future shock of the previous two albums. That said, it's easily some of their most accessible work, and one of the most potent distillations of their chaotic yet introspective songwriting style.

Ćmiel’s melodies are exemplary pop, though their vocals exude an incorporeal flair. Their lyrics describe cosmopolitan dramas and dissonances, but exude the subtle and refreshing awkwardness of a non-native.

This album does not suck. It is disappointing, it is underwhelming, and it features some of the best pop cuts of the year. Yeule’s first hyper-playlistable album, I guess.