It's been four years since Cherry Glazerr released their resplendent third album Stuffed and Ready, but Clementine Creevy has been in no rush.

"I've spent these years taking a hard look at myself, at my relationships, and writing about it," she says. "I guess I'm coming to terms with a lot of my bullshit." Cherry Glazerr has been on the road more often than not since Creevy was still in high school, and when the pandemic hit, she immersed herself in a static existence she'd been deprived of.

Creevy describes Cherry Glazerr's ambitious new album, I Don't Want You Anymore, as some of her most personal, raw music to date, a collection of songs that elaborate on this period of self-reckoning. It's the first she's produced since Cherry Glazerr's garage rock debut, Haxel Princess, released nearly a decade ago when Creevy was a teenager. Creevy describes I Don't Want You Anymore as a "mature" album, moreso in reference to her personal growth than a reflection of the record, which in true Cherry Glazerr fashion is best described as Extremely Fun.

To make it, Creevy linked up with producer Yves Rothman, who's best known for his work with Yves Tumor. Lead single "Soft Like a Flower" exemplifies that growth. A murky guitar riff inaugurates the track, before Creevy's unguarded vocals enter the mix. She sings of a consuming obsession and is joined on the chorus by longtime bandmate Sami Perez.

It's proudly emotive, what Creevy calls an "Evanescence moment." "It's a real 'losing your fucking shit' kind've vibe," she says. "I wanted this album to be just heart and soul. Completely exposed." I Don't Want You Anymore uses the element of surprise to it's advantage; each track is a radical reimagination of what Cherry Glazerr is and can be.

"Bad Habit" opens with a spiraling vocal loop that Creevy began recording at home and it expands into a delirious downtempo dance track without ever invoking a guitar. The subsequent track, "Ready for You" is sung in funky staccato and the initially spare bassline on the opening verse is eventually overtaken by a massive, staticky guitar riff that reminds you this is, at it's heart, a rock album. These are songs to soundtrack the listener's life, a score to suit any occasion. The titular track makes a promise to an unnamed other, but the repeating lyrics on the bridge could just as easily serve as a love letter to listeners: "In the end, you're always holding me."