When Chloe Slater was Artist Spotlight No. 24, I called her sharp-tongued and switched-on, someone writing loud, restless anthems with something real to say. Two EPs and multiple page and playlist features later, her debut album Riot Youth is finally here, and I’m happy to report I was right.
Out now on Stolen Juice/AWAL, Riot Youth takes on climate dread, politics, phones, and the internet, which on paper sounds like a lot of homework. In practice, it’s a blast to sing along to. The frustration is still there. It just comes with bigger hooks now.
Mother Nature’s Killing Spree opens the record with a love story set at the end of the world, which is a very Chloe way to say hello. Before I’d even caught up with the premise, the guitar had me. It has that weeping, crying-out tone I fell for on Eliza and the Delusionals’ “Jackie,” and apparently I’ll never stop falling for it. Then Can I Finish Please? throws a curveball, with snare claps, shimmery guitar, synths running up and down the scale, and a little Y2K pop sparkle, all wrapped around an argument with the older generation about politics. If you’ve ever tried to get a word in at a family dinner, the title explains itself.
The Underground is the London song, and it sounds a little lonely on purpose. A quick four-note synth riff keeps circling, the acoustic guitar sits right up front, and the chorus slows into big, stomping steps. It’s isolating London in song form, at least until the right people show up and make it livable. Then I’ve Never Felt So Hated turns the lights down. A busy drum pattern churns under something ominous and haunting while Chloe works through internet trolls and what that kind of attention does to your head while being young and growing up in it. This one hit hard personally. Anyone who’s put something they love out into the world knows what it’s like to get picked apart for it. I feel that every other day running this site, and I love running this site. so this one really resonates with me.
Southern Youth is the bittersweet moment of the record: leaving Bournemouth as fast as she could, missing it once she was gone, and feeling like a tourist every time she goes back. The chorus is huge and uplifting, and the snare lands on all four beats, so the song keeps leaning forward even while she’s looking back. Go Outside tells you to put your phone down, and you’re almost definitely listening to it on your phone. I was too. The bass guitar runs the show, the drums keep shifting underneath, and the stops and drops land exactly where you want them. She was already writing about screens on “Tiny Screens” back in her Artist Spotlight era, so it’s nice to see the subject finally get the full anthem treatment.
Get Me Out is the defiant one. It’s aimed at politicians who rebrand themselves on reality TV, and her vocal comes through like a megaphone at a protest. She also makes a point of saying she’s not up on a high horse, which is exactly why it never comes off as preachy. Chloe is one of us and she is speaking our minds. And those long backing harmonies are some of the best on the record. Helpless is where the activism turns inward, watching young ideals wear down once adulthood and everything that comes with it shows up. Every soft, rich guitar line feels placed on purpose, the bridge shimmers with synths and guitar underneath, and by the end Chloe is belting and emoting to her fullest extent.
Then there’s Ugly, my favorite on the album and one of the best songs she’s ever made. I need a minute to talk about synths. They run up and down, synth bass holds down the floor, and the walk-downs in the chorus are something I’ve replayed a dramatic number of times. The drums thump, the verses move with an almost athletic energy, and the whole thing goes after consumer culture and the insecurities companies sell back to us. It’s her most mature songwriting yet, and it never once sits still. That makes Let It Happen land even softer. It’s the quietest, most introspective moment on the record, a spacious, piano-led closer with layered vocals. Chloe has said it’s about how apps and screens make it easy to stop seeing the people right in front of us. After nine songs about massive systems, ending on something that small and human feels exactly right.
Riot Youth is everything Artist Spotlight-era Chloe promised, only bigger, brighter, and more confident. The songs I fell for back then were loud and restless and mostly running on guitar and attitude. This record keeps the attitude and widens the toolbox: synth walk-downs, Y2K sparkle, and a piano closer quiet enough to hear a pin drop. What impresses me most is the balance. Ten songs about climate collapse, trolls, politicians, phones, and growing up should be exhausting, and it never is. She’s angry without being bitter and self-aware without being smug, and she always leaves room for a chorus you can shout back at her. For a debut, it’s remarkably sure of itself. She’s still sharp-tongued, still switched-on, and now she’s got a whole album of anthems to prove it. If this is where she starts, I can’t wait to see where she goes.
