Maggie Lindemann
Release date: Sept. 16 2022 :: via swixxzaudio

With a billion streams under her belt already over the past few years, singer-songwriter Maggie Lindemann arrives with her debut full-length record SUCKERPUNCH, an honest, high-energy hyperemotional horror show, peeling the curtain back on the artist’s insecurities, anxieties, wants, and desires. 

Following a haunting instrumental introduction (which in all honesty, after the first listen, I skipped more often than not; never been an “introduction/interlude/intermission” guy…) SUCKERPUNCH kicks off with its heaviest track “take me nowhere,” packed with harsh and heavy guitars, double-bass pedal, and soaring vocals. I wouldn’t quite call it industrial, but sparks fly early with this one.

In the same vein recently as Lilith Czar’s Created From Filth and Dust and Demi Lovato’s HOLY FVCK, SUCKERPUNCH jumpropes the line between dark and light, depressive and delighted. Though the lyrics show Lindemann’s unsure side at times, she performs it without blinking, “casualty of your dreams” being a standout example of this: “Honestly, fuck your honesty – I’m done. … there’s no need for apologies, because honestly you’re dead to me.” 

Part of SUCKERPUNCH wants to be a pop-punk record, and part of it wants to be a rock and roll record. And what makes it so successful is that it is successfully both. Where “casualty of your dreams” and “take me nowhere” lean towards her heavier side, “she knows it” slips in between the two, trading in the shredded guitar riffs for lighter racing pop-punk chords and a chorus that drills itself into your ears before the track finishes. 

On an album with plenty already working in its favor, the pacing of SUCKERPUNCH might be its strongest weapon. With the wide range of emotions handled across the record – loss, love, anger, jealousy, pride, and a million more – Lindemann pinballs her way from one to the next like a firecracker on icy pavement.

Whether intentional or not, and really, I hope it was less intent and more instinct and intuition, the sub-3:00 runtime on almost every song here drags you right into them; just as you start to regain your footing in the dark of “break me!,” you find yourself longingly staring out the window of the voyeuristic “girl next door,” a soft, inquisitive look at the relationship across the way. Lindemann’s vocals do double-duty here – her main vocal is the softest of the record, giving off a vibe of Melanie Martinez’ Cry Baby character growing up and moving out of her dollhouse, while her eerie rising and falling wails in the background show off her range. 

No track overstays it’s welcome, and more often than not, just as you’re settling into a groove and expecting another verse, you’re snapped to the next one.
With the levels of uncertainty or doubt being dealt with while still maintaining a stance of strength and heart and individuality, it’s no wonder that the record is all over the place.
The frenzied flurry of emotions is captured perfectly. 

As the album rolls along, each song continues to stay consistently good throughout. But as you make the turn at the halfway point and head for the tail end, the record’s biggest surprise jumps out and steals the show: “we never even dated” is a piece of sweet ribbon candy hidden in a bowl of razor blades.

Simple, soulful, and somber, it’s a brief slowdown that showcases the softer side of Lindemann’s songwriting that feels like a deconstructed acoustic version of itself. And, just like the rest of the album, as you start to focus in on it and wait for it to expand even further, fleeting, it’s over in a blink and gone before you realize, quickly shifting gears into another direction.

On one of the rare “good not great” moments SUCKERPUNCH has to offer, second-to-last “how could you do this to me” is a minor stumble just before the finish line. Without wanting to sound too much like an “all female-fronted pop-punk sounds like Paramore” person, the intro rips in like “Misery Business” on uppers. Kellin Quinn provides support here, his trademark voice standing out before I even checked to see who was the feature. It’s less about having anything particularly negative to say about the song, but more that there are just that many other instances with opportunity for praise; its biggest fault is that there’s so much overshadowing it. 

Lindemann quickly recovers though, finishing strong in the finale. 

Balanced from start to finish, just as it opened with its heaviest song, SUCKERPUNCH concludes with arguably its poppiest effort with “cages” – a culmination everything the record had touched on and total dismissal of all of it. The judgement, the criticisms, disapproval and opinions and input and doubts, it’s a middle finger to all of it –  “I don’t live for you, I live for me … lions aren’t meant for cages, let me live my life.”

And just like during so many other moments on this album, rather than risk overdoing it, she makes her point and it’s over. 

If there was one thing connecting SUCKERPUNCH together from start to finish, it’s timing. At any given moment, Lindemann talks about making a decision too soon out of eagerness, making a decision too late out of fear, waiting for the right moment to show, waiting for the wrong moment to end.
But no matter how much you prepare or wait or brace yourself, sometimes you get snuck up on. 

Coming out swinging with a top-notch debut, Lindemann’s a heavyweight who can already hold their own, and it’ll be a while before the ringing leaves your ears. 

Score: 3.75/5


1. intro / welcome in
2. take me nowhere
3. she knows it
4. casualty of your dreams
5. self sabotage
6. phases
7. im so lonely with you
8. break me! (ft. SIIICKBRAIN)
9. girl next door
10. we never even dated
11. novocaine
12. you’re not special
13. hear me out
14. how could you do this to me? (ft. Kellin Quinn)
15. cages