A Review of Casey Dienel’s ‘Your Girl’s Upstairs’
- I'm Not From London
- Aug 16
- 2 min read
Casey Dienel’s return with ‘Your Girl’s Upstairs’ isn’t so much a comeback as it is a statement: a reminder that pop music can be clever, deeply felt, and utterly unafraid. From the first percussive loop, the track radiates a quiet confidence – the kind that doesn’t need to shout because it knows exactly what it’s doing. Guitars, courtesy of meg duffy (Hand Habits), ripple through the mix like heat haze, while Spencer Zahn’s basslines add a supple, grounding pulse. Max Jaffe’s drumming is crisp and considered, guiding the song through its shifting moods without ever overstepping.
This is roadhouse pop with a twist – a track that plays with space and texture while still feeling immediate. Dienel’s vocals are the gravitational pull here, layered and harmonically rich, slipping between intimacy and detachment with ease. The lyrics are sharp, cool to the touch but edged with something fierce: autonomy, queerness, and emotional labour woven into a narrative that is as much a self-portrait as it is a kiss-off.
The chorus – ‘She played house, played dead, played anything to keep your head from crying’ – is delivered with unflinching clarity, a moment of striking stillness inside the song’s loose, spiralling structure. There’s a swagger in how it all hangs together: part Americana reverie, part widescreen pop, part sly wink to the listener.
As the first glimpse of My Heart Is An Outlaw, it captures the album’s promised scope – raw but deliberate, collaborative yet entirely personal. Dienel’s co-production with Adam Schatz (Japanese Breakfast, Neko Case) ensures each layer serves the song, never crowding its emotional heart. It’s a track that leaves the door open just a crack, inviting you to follow wherever the record goes next.
