Grumpy - Piebald Grumpy

Grumpy’s EP Piebald is a lopsided grin with a knife behind it — a shimmery gut punch that turns the grotesque into glamor and heartbreak into theater. Anchored by a voice that wavers between charming villain and sad clown, Piebald invites the listener into a world where ugliness isn’t just embraced — it’s the source of Grumpy’s power. It doesn't take long for the drain to get unstopped on opener "Bird Parts," when a disgusting, delicious gurgle breaks up the breezy chords. "Crush" is all sugar: "Baby, what's your screen name? Let's hold hands online," Schmitt sings. "Proud of You" and itsY2K sample chops might make you think of Smash Mouth, and I mean really think of Smash Mouth -- like, you might go back to "All Star" and marvel at the C-sharp diminished chord tilting the chorus askew. These songs breach with the delight of new love and then they wallow in the disaster of love disintegrating, and they're so incredibly into it all, starving for it, reeling with every kind of intensity, until the edges between desire and pain start to fuzz. Grumpy plays into the idea of irresistible monstrosity. I’m drawn to ugliness laced with charm," Schmitt says. "My whole songwriting ethos is about how ugly can I be, how much can I admit, how much can I perform the things that have been most painful in my life. The Grumpy character is a villain who wins over the listener with his acceptance of pain and sense of humor. He's creepy, brash, and, somehow, charming. He's got bravado and prowess. He’s inviting an audience to be entertained by his ugliness. And I think that’s what songwriting is: performing your pain for entertainment or catharsis. "Piebald flings itself open into an invitation to really love the ugly stuff: not just accept it ,not just endure it, but wrap your arms all the way around and drink in the scent of its fur. "Bird Parts" opens the EP with the thesis, “My girl isn’t mine / I’m a bottom feeder / I can’t kiss her but she calls me when I really need her.” "That’s Grumpy’s ethos in miniature," says Schmitt. "It insists on dignity in the midst of humiliation, on connection despite rejection. It’s about remaining indispensable even when discarded. Piebald doesn’t ask for pity. It casts a spell and dares you to look away."