That faith in their own instincts extends to all of the public-facing aspects of Girlpool. Some of the other bands in their world are more wary of press, or have a hard time with it, but being open in interviews like this one feels like another extension of Girlpool’s overarching goal: to be themselves no matter what. “I wanna play music forever, and if I wanna do that, I have to have some sort of openness to the fact that I’m putting my emotions on the line,” Harmony says. “I have a hard time stopping myself from being myself, like, at any point. In certain moments, I wish that I could hold back my personhood more, but it’s hard to not fully exist,” she says. “Or whatever.”

On Powerplant, Harmony and Cleo were concerned with accessibility, but they also just wanted to make a really good album. It’s 28 minutes, so every bewildering riff and bass pluck counts. These are 12 songs that mean a lot to the women who made them, and as a listener, Cleo and Harmony never feel out of reach. A lot of DIY rock is like that, and that’s part of what makes it so inspiring. “Projects that embody the creative person completely encourage those who listen to do the same thing, even if the listener initially just mimics the artist,” Harmony says, talking about her peers, like Alex and Greta. But the idea applies to Girlpool, too.

“Cleo and Harmony are symbols of the rawness and honesty that our entire society lacks,” Willow Smith, the 16-year-old daughter of Will and Jada Pinkett-Smith, tells me in an email. Willow is a well-documented free thinker and Girlpool fan, and her thoughts on the band reflect that soul-searching, too. She appreciates the way Girlpool’s music is about being yourself, even when it’s not convenient. “They represent a way of being that this generation identifies with on a spiritual and subconscious level. Freeing yourself from ideologies that suffocate your innermost self has always been, and will always be, the wave.”

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It’s no secret that rock & roll is not the dominant American music genre it used to be, even compared to the 2000s heyday of bands like Bright Eyes and Rilo Kiley. But the need for the kind of truthful, underground music that Harmony and Cleo make never really goes away, and you can see that style’s fingerprints on some of 2016’s most talked-about moments, which also felt hinged on earnestness. For one, Frank Ocean recruited Alex G to play guitar parts on his two 2016 albums, Endless and Blonde. On the latter’s most existentially angsty song, Ocean also prominently interpolates an Elliott Smith lyric.

There’s an argument that sometimes comes up against what some would consider a “nostalgic” rock sound: Why would I listen to these new homemade rock songs when I could listen to older ones that sound pretty similar? But passionate young music fanatics don’t necessarily think that way. This is their time and these are their bands. They feel lucky when they see them perform live, and proud when those groups score an opening spot on a big tour or an unexpected slot on the Coachella lineup. To Girlpool fans, the golden age of indie rock is happening right now.

