When she announced Crush Songs‘ existence in June, Orzolek included a handwritten note contextualizing what she called “the soundtrack to what was an ever continuing LOVE CRUSADE.” She recorded the album when she was 27, afraid she would never fall in love again because she had too many crushes, and she recorded it “in private.” For context, Orzolek was 27 the year after Yeah Yeah Yeahs released its second album, Show Your Bones, which eventually went gold. At some point, right as her band was blowing up, Orzolek sneaked into a small room somewhere, armed with a ukulele and a guitar, and recorded these 15 songs. None are longer than three minutes, and most are under two. The announcement she wrote was a perfect microcosm of the finished product: handmade, concise, intimate, ebullient, and instantly relatable.

Everything about Crush Songs is friendly and unguarded, from its mixtape-adjacent title and cover art to its production­ ­— such as it is — which is lo-fi and warmly enveloping. This music is built from moment to wholehearted, unrehearsable moment, even more than it’s built from lyrics and strumming. There’s the unexpected squeak at the end of “Rapt,” the eerie-yet-soothing whispers throughout “NYC Baby,” the waver in Orzolek’s voice as she coos through “Body,” the primal scream four seconds later in the same song, and every giggle and whistle of the joyful album closer, “Singalong,” among many others. It’s preternaturally compelling, all of it, which is what ultimately marks this as a Karen O creation.

Crush Songs has an immediacy and earnestness akin to Kimya Dawson and a ukulele-driven poignancy reminiscent of Magnetic Fields. But it’s powered by a subversive rock ‘n’ roll heart that only she could have revealed so fearlessly.

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