Cleo and Harmony make up Girlpool.

Their music is the symbol of their tight bond.

The intimate set-up (Cleo with her bass and Harmony with her guitar, as if yet another hint at their distinct yet complementing personalities) helps focus on the essentials, and there is indeed no need for more to be intrigued by their voices, laid bare and unobfuscated by superfluous instrumentation.

When they take turns singing, they do so ever so respectfully, never encroaching on one another or rushing, always stepping in at the right time. Far from stealing each other’s thunder, they let their partner have some rest and catch breath as they continue the line seamlessly, the melody the fruit of a joint effort of passing the torch on and on again. There are no half-measures in their delivery: they almost invariably sing at the top of their lungs, or even above and beyond with Cleo’s piercing cry in “Jane”, the one musical gesture that I found to be so ridiculously brilliant and which finally sold me. The juxtaposition of their voices highlights the eerie similarity in their twangy tone, another evidence of their kinship. When their voices finally meet, the likeness of their voices unexpectedly – inexplicably – gives way to beautiful, full-fledged harmony; the sum much greater than the already majestic parts.

Likewise, bass and guitar playfully dance with each other throughout the tracks, searching for and inviting the other, and producing dazzling sparks when they finally find their counterpoint.

I was lucky to see Girlpool live in Paris this year.

After a trying DJ set that literally nobody paid attention to — more a nuisance than an appetizer —, Girlpool step onstage, plug in their instruments and deliver a set way beyond my expectations. As the night progresses, I find myself craving more and more for the song that first got me onboard, the one I want to hear more than any other at that concert. “We have two songs left. The next one’s a cover of a song by Radiator Hospital.” As the song ends, received with rapturous applause, I feel tenser than ever. In five seconds, I will know whether or not the final song will be the right one. Cleo and Harmony prepare to play their final piece. Sad chords ring out instead of the energetic riff at the beginning of “Jane”. It doesn’t matter, my response is just the same. I know for a fact that Girlpool is not a band for doing perfunctory encores (especially seeing as there is hardly such a thing as a backstage at this venue), and, as expected, once the song is over they indeed start plugging out their instruments and turning off the amplifiers. The audience, although at times having been inappropriately noisy, now keeps on cheering, fierce as ever, craving for “one last song!”. The two songstresses seem to be engaged in intense banter, smiling but oblivious to the audience. How could they possibly ignore such thunderous acclaim? Or could it be that they are actually discussing a possible encore? They plug their guitar and bass back in, reconnect in the same way with the audience. “Surely they must not have many songs left to choose from, besides that one song that they seem for some impenetrable reason so little inclined to play”, I say to myself. I don’t know what they they were saying to each other, but the first few moments of the song give me a rush of euphoria. Jane. The perfect closer.

Here’s the video of the closer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EXsBanBNxHk. Their complicity also shows live, with the happy banter they share with one another and the clear feeling that they’re happy to be here. When Cleo forgets the lyrics preceding Harmony’s shriek, she replaces them with spontaneous encouragement for her, “share some love Harmony”, a very cute gesture.

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