Mannequin Pussy’s musical and lyrical charge is raucous, raw, angry and jangly, yet leavened with angelic choruses and delightfully impious asides — and that’s just I Got Heaven’s first song. 

From its opening track, the Philadelphia quartet's new album is redolent of riot grrrl fervor. The 10 tracks of I Got Heaven, out March 1, are laced with industrial intensity ("Of Her"), pretty and propulsive punky power pop ("Nothing Like'') and moshable speed metal duets ("OK? OK! OK? OK!").  

Founded by singer/guitarist Marisa Dabice in 2010, the quartet of Colins "Bear" Regisford (bass, vocals), Kaleen Reading (drums) and Maxine Steen (guitar, synths), Mannequin Pussy are proof that rock’s not dead. In fact, it’s being created by smart, conscious women (and one man) whose creativity is unfettered, living proof of goals that include inclusion, change and connection. And a hefty dose of raw power. 

I Got Heaven is the group's fourth album, and their second LP for Epitaph Records; it follows 2019’s Patience, and the 2021 EP Perfect. Years of DIY dues-paying have culminated in what may be a breakthrough that uplifts the quartet from scrappy indie darlings to a serious, multi-faceted rock band to be reckoned with. 

Dabice, who spoke to GRAMMY.com from her Philly home, might agree. "It's been beautiful to see the progression of this band and how much it means to people; how much it means for them to feel like they have a cathartic place to put their emotions and to feel things deeply and think critically about things and to challenge things," she says.

Post-meditation and drinking tea on a recent Thursday morning, Dabice is in the calm before the storm. A few years of sobriety, self-reflection and the catharsis of playing and songwriting finds her both self-possessed and excited as Mannequin Pussy launch their third tour April 4, with more than 20 sold out shows through May. 

As the conversation ranges from her fondness for Park Chan-wook movies to feeling part of an "iconic collective, an awakening" to working on lyrics in a 24 hour Korean spa, Dabice shares that she feels "like this is the best work we've ever done." 

The title track, "I Got Heaven," kicks off the record with such a massive punch of energy and power, it made me want to instantly join your band. Growing up, what artist or record did that for you?  

I think I've been fortunate to experience that quite a few times. As soon as you asked that question, I got the vision of watching the music video for "Maps" by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs on MTV, I must have been 13 or 14. It's such a beautiful piece of cinematic history, it bridges the gap between Yes, it's a music video, but it also makes you feel so intensely emotional because of the song and because of her performance.

Everything about that song is just like what is so phenomenal about being in a band. When you listen to a song, and you can hear it for the collaborations that went into it. There's that drumbeat you can isolate in your mind, that guitar arpeggiation that you can hear in your head, and then Karen O’s vocals on top. You can isolate, individually, how exciting each moment of that song is. That to me is what's so exciting about being in a band.

So you always knew you could sing and wanted to be a front person?

No, no, I definitely never thought I could sing. Never wanted to sing. I think even when Mannequin Pussy started, I was just screaming, but I was more like singing as a placeholder. I was [thinking], someone else will come along. 

Then, I could just play guitar and write songs, and then they can sing them. I wanted to write music; that was the thing that really propelled me and motivated me.

Did you audition any potential singers?

That never really happened. But our bass player, he also contributes vocals. So I do have someone whose voice I love for when a song doesn't feel right for my voice. We like to call it "hardcore duets," where we're both singing on a track.

That works so well on "OK? OK! OK? OK!" which is one of my favorites on I Got Heaven. Was it initially written to be a duet?  

It was a bit of happenstance, but I've always just loved the way that two voices on a song can really kind of elevate the emotionality, where it can feel as though you are just dropping in on a conversation that maybe you shouldn't be eavesdropping on. Or you have this kind of bystander effect of listening to the way these two voices interact with each other. 

How did that song begin?  

We started writing in Philadelphia, all at our practice space together. I was on the microphone, and I had had that, "okay, okay" in my brain for a few months, actually.  I'm very East Coast, but I liked this Valley Girl tough affectation. I had a voice memo for it. 

I did that "okay okay" and then [our drummer Kaylene] immediately started playing this epic drumbeat. Maxine and Bear were in the other corner watching her play drums and me do this vocal affectation as a top line thing and they filled in the spaces with guitar and bass. 

You don't usually start a song that way, right? We all had this thing that we were pouring into it. The more I looked at Bear, it was like what I'm doing is akin to an ad lib or hype man, or like this  character that should just kind of like step back and allow you to take the full breadth of the song.

It's called playing music for a reason. You're having fun, and you're playing around with different ideas and shapes and sonic textures. It was a very fun day for us doing something that felt silly, but we were all very excited by it.

That said, I’m sure there were times when creating this record wasn’t as fun?  

I mean, I cried for sure while we were making this record, during every record. Producers are really an incredible combination of roles. They're not only a tastemaker, and an engineer and someone who's there to capture and elevate, they also really take on a dynamic of kind of being a therapist and a friend to you in those dark days where you don't really know, when you get a little lost in the weeds.

Any creative person understands what it feels like to be that moment where you're too deeply in something; you need to step out into the macro in order to be able to hear the record fully and know where you're going.

I definitely had a day where I cried to [producer] John Congleton. It was like, "I don't know if this is like any f—king good. I feel insecure about it." It's also that I feel like everyone around me is so talented. And, sometimes you're like, Am I bringing enough to this? John was really wonderful. We were all in a moment of intense financial struggle. We hadn't been on tour in a long time, so money was tough. It was a combination of a lot of stresses, kind of overwhelming. So yes, sometimes it's so much fun. Other times you're crying, wondering if it's all shit.  

This is your first time working with John as a producer. Why him?

John approached us, which I love. I’m a big believer in being courted. I don't want to be out there sending flowers! John called Brett Guerwitz, the founder of Epitaph Records, I guess they were friends. Brett called me, probably mid-2021. I looked [John] up. I was like, "Oh, I definitely know this guy. He's worked on some records I f—ing love." 

Brett's never the type of person to tell us what we should be doing with our art, but he said, "I really want you to meet him and see if there's a creative vibe between you. I think this is the record that you guys should leave Philly for and do a destination record in L.A. and just really be in it."

We were fortunate enough at that point to have the support of Epitaph.

I loved the way that John spoke about music, I love his philosophy toward music. I felt like we would be in good hands, and that we would be finding the right collaborator for this. Because what a good producer does is kind of become a temporary member of the band. A band is a combination of collaborative creative energies, and as a producer, you're being invited into that world we built between us. It was really important to find someone who would mesh with our sensibilities, and our humor and our outlook and also be in a place to teach us new things and show us new things.

I read an article where you talked about I Got Heaven as having a "pervasive feeling of longing and horniness to it." Can you comment on that vibe?

As much as we joke around we are quite serious. But I think that [with] a band name like ours, for some people, that's never going to be something they can take seriously. I think that's also a reflection of the way that we see things as being inherently feminine, perhaps, or attached to the feminine or things that are not worth real time attention or recognition. But that's a totally separate conversation!

We’re very serious, yet we wanted to make a record that really felt a bit overly amorous, horny, and lustful, because that's kind of where a lot of us in the band were. We had all these jokes about lust and desire and everything because we were traveling so much on tour. Three of us in the band all experienced breakups around the same time. It led us all into a really deep solitude period of healing, where we all kind of took two years off from dating. Really separating ourselves completely and really putting ourselves into the work.

I think creative work requires the practice of solitude. That was something we also strongly felt in the making of this record; that our own solitude was also feeding our creativity. But even in moments of solitude, that doesn't mean that you can escape the fantasy of what it would feel like to be with someone again, or what it would feel like to have love and human connection in that more carnal way. This record is full of human connection but some of it is just fantasy.

The videos for "I Got Heaven" and "I Don’t Know You" were shot on a farm, as were some of your press photos, and there’s a pig on your album cover. Are you vegetarians?

We are not vegetarians. We believe in the pursuit of moderated pleasure. But more so in like, I believe very strongly in conscious carnivorism. I think that the way in which we interact with all living beings on the planet needs to be from a place of gratitude, curiosity, and respect. Respect for the animal that has not chosen to sacrifice its life to nourish you, right? I'm not someone who overindulges. I'm like a hedonist who doesn't indulge in anything.

Interesting. Seems like a long life plan!  

I quit smoking. I quit drinking over the last two years, not because I had a problem. I just felt like it was boring. It was not making me feel good anymore. Like, it's time to move on.

I don't believe in being too strict with ourselves. I think everything should allow for the moment to infer what you should do in it. I was a vegan for three years. I feel so much healthier now that I haven't put restrictions onto myself. At the end of the day, the most important thing is you getting the energy you need to perform.  

I read that your song "Spilt Me Open" was written a day after taking acid. Is that a group activity or did you try to utilize it as a creative tool?

The story behind it is actually quite wholesome. Maybe the most wholesome LSD story! Our band vacations together. Maxine's family has a small off the grid cabin that’s been in her family for generations. No electricity, no internet, in New Hampshire.  

I'm a believer in a yearly psychedelic trip. I think it kind of realigns the system and gets your brain functioning in a healthy and creative way. And maybe helps you purge some things that you need to purge. Again, hedonist but not excess. Experimental, but not dangerous. Maxine and I took acid and usually it’s a day of being naked in nature. I forced everyone to listen to Paul Simon for 24 hours. 

The next day, we were laying around next to the lake, just me and Maxine, coming down from our trip. She started playing the beginning chords of "Split Me Open" on acoustic guitar. I was laying down next to her, and kind of had a similar experience when she started playing it. I immediately started singing along; a lot of those lines would end up in the final version. The song just kind of spilled out of us.   

What is success to you?

On one hand, I feel like success on a more spiritual level feels as though you are being seen, understood and accepted for exactly who you are, and your creative output. People connecting with our music in a way that is immensely thoughtful. 

I think success on a material level, especially for artists, means that you're paying all of your bills through your own creativity; your own creative talents are actually what is sustaining your life. That, to me, feels like a really beautiful combination. Where if it was just the one — just the material without being seen and understood? I'm not sure it would feel as rewarding.

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