DAPHNE PARKER POWELL, The Death of Cool

Can cool actually die?

Before diving into the richly layered, stylistically fluid terrain of The Death of Cool, it’s worth noting that Daphne Parker Powell isn’t simply introducing a new collection of songs—she’s delivering a statement shaped by resilience, introspection and a fearless willingness to strip away illusion. Creating and recording while undergoing treatment for breast cancer, the New Orleans-based singer/songwriter channels not hardship, but clarity and hard-won perspective into an album that challenges the very idea of what it means to be “cool,” trading detachment for honesty, vulnerability and connection.

Musically, Powell’s aesthetic lands in a fascinating space—think the piano-driven intensity and emotional candor of Fiona Apple fused with the airy, higher-register phrasing of Joni Mitchell. Yet that only scratches the surface. What makes The Death of Cool so compelling is its seamless blending of intimate piano balladry with the brassy, groove-heavy spirit of New Orleans, brought to life by an all-star cast including members of Preservation Hall and the extended Squirrel Nut Zippers orbit. Produced by Jimbo Mathus and mixed by Mike Napolitano, the album moves fluidly between smoky torch song introspection and full-bodied, horn-fueled swagger.

Powell’s opener “Perpetual Light of the Void” immediately establishes her emotional and sonic range, pairing dramatic piano and soaring vocals with a surprising shift into a mid-tempo, groove-driven arrangement punctuated by bursts of brass and a fiery rock guitar solo. It’s a bold introduction that sets the tone for an album unafraid of contrast. That duality deepens on “Scorched Earth & the Flood,” where a seductive bassline and moody piano foundation give way to a lush, New Orleans-tinged arrangement featuring clarinet, horns and a slow-burning rhythmic pulse. The track’s sense of tension—between longing and release, intimacy and spectacle—captures the album’s thematic core.

Powell continues to navigate these shifting emotional currents on “Speak No Evil,” a hypnotic, mid-tempo groove that gradually evolves into a more edgy pop/rock expression, with crunchy guitar textures adding urgency beneath her nuanced vocal delivery. Meanwhile, the title track “The Death of Cool” strips things back initially, presenting Powell in a stark piano setting before expanding into a fuller, more anthemic sound, complete with swelling horns and blistering guitar work that underline the song’s central reckoning with identity and self-perception.

Elsewhere, Powell reveals her more intimate and poetic side. “The Stranger” unfolds as a delicate acoustic meditation, pairing wistful vocals with gentle guitar textures, while “Do I Want a Warm Body” leans into darker, ambient territory, its sparse arrangement and brooding atmosphere framing one of the album’s most introspective lyrical explorations. These quieter moments provide essential balance to the record’s more rhythmically vibrant tracks.

That said, Powell clearly thrives in the album’s more groove-driven settings. “In the Soup Until the Pot Rots” and “Object Impermanence” both tap into a lively, brass-heavy New Orleans energy, blending blues, funk and jazz elements into infectious, full-bodied arrangements that feel both celebratory and slightly chaotic—in the best sense. “Zeal of the Converted” continues that thread with punchy horn accents and a buoyant rhythmic flow, while “No Taste for Nostalgia” anchors the latter half of the album with a steady, piano-driven meditation on consequence, growth and the impossibility of returning to who we once were.

Throughout The Death of Cool, Powell’s voice remains the unifying force—capable of shifting effortlessly between hushed intimacy and soaring intensity, often within the same phrase. It’s this dynamic range, paired with her lyrical depth, that gives the album its emotional weight without ever feeling overwrought. Ultimately, the collection is less about rejecting an aesthetic than redefining a mindset. By dismantling the protective armor of irony and detachment, Daphne Parker Powell offers something far more lasting: a body of work rooted in truth, contradiction and the messy, beautiful process of becoming.