Pom Pom Squad’s Journey Through Growth and Vulnerability

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In the unpredictable landscape of indie rock, Pom Pom Squad has consistently stood out as a beacon of artistic honesty and musical innovation. With the release of their second album, Mirror Starts Moving Without Me, the band’s frontwoman and creative force, Mia Berrin, opens a window into her inner world—a kaleidoscope of vulnerability, self-discovery, and raw emotion. The record builds on the critical success of their 2021 debut, Death of a Cheerleader, offering a darker, richer palette of sounds and themes. Yet, its beating heart remains unmistakably Berrin’s: a voice that pierces through the noise, demanding to be heard, understood, and felt.

For any artist, a second album comes with its own set of challenges. The freedom of creating without expectation—the luxury of anonymity—fades as the spotlight intensifies. Reflecting on this transition, Berrin notes, “With a debut, no one is really waiting for it. Everything good feels like a blessing. But with a second album, there’s this pressure—expectations from others and from yourself. It’s different.”

Pom Pom Squad : by Bao Ngo

This pressure manifested not only in external critiques but also in her internal dialogue. The weight of visibility transformed her relationship with her creativity. After Death of a Cheerleader, they found themself caught in a loop where they was questioning whether they were making art for them or for an audience. That’s not where they wanted to be they confessed. This tension led to a year-long writer’s block, forcing them to step back, reevaluate, and eventually redefine her creative process. Recorded at the legendary Electric Lady Studios, the album is as much an ode to its influences as it is a bold declaration of independence. Drawing inspiration from cultural touchstones like Alice in Wonderland, Perfect Blue, and Sailor Moon, Berrin crafted a sonic landscape that feels surreal and grounded all at once. From the haunting vulnerability of “Everybody’s Moving On” to the defiant energy of “Spinning,” the record chronicles the complexities of navigating adulthood while holding on to the fragments of childhood wonder.

The production process was as challenging as it was rewarding. Co-producing the album with Cody Fitzgerald, Berrin described the experience as both empowering and humbling. “I like being in the driver’s seat, except when it’s my own vocals,” she said in a recent interview. The duality of being an artist and a producer allowed her to approach her music with a clarity that had been elusive in the past. As a queer, biracial artist, Berrin’s work often grapples with questions of identity and belonging. Growing up in predominantly white spaces, she became acutely aware of how she was perceived. This “split-brain mentality,” as she describes it, shaped much of her early life and creative output. But with Mirror Starts Moving Without Me, she strives to move beyond these confines, embracing a more holistic sense of self.

Her playlist of inspirations—ranging from Prince and FKA Twigs to Riot Grrrl icons like Kathleen Hanna—serves as a roadmap for this journey. “I tried to reconnect with what comes innately to me,” she explains. The result is an album that feels deeply personal yet universally resonant, inviting listeners to embark on their own introspective journeys. Berrin’s candidness about her struggles—creative, personal, and professional—raises larger questions about the role of vulnerability in art. What does it mean to lay oneself bare in an era of curated perfection? How can artists protect their mental health while navigating the demands of a commercialized music industry?

For Berrin, the answers lie in finding balance. Detaching from external validation has been a crucial step. “I’ve learned to avoid reviews, even the good ones,” she says. “Because at the end of the day, the only opinion that truly matters is my own.”

Yet, this detachment does not mean isolation. The collaborative nature of the album’s creation—highlighted by the shared playlists and the camaraderie of her bandmates—offers a model for how artists can build supportive ecosystems. Beyond the music, Pom Pom Squad’s journey resonates as a broader cultural statement. In an industry still grappling with issues of representation and inclusivity, Berrin’s success challenges long-standing norms. Her unapologetic embrace of her identity—queer, biracial, and fiercely independent—offers a beacon for others navigating similar spaces.

At the same time, her work invites reflection on the universality of certain struggles. With Mirror Starts Moving Without Me, Pom Pom Squad has not just created an album; they’ve crafted a mirror in which listeners can see their own fears, hopes, and complexities. And in a world that often demands simplicity, this complexity feels like a much-needed gift.

What does it mean to truly find oneself? Can vulnerability be a source of strength rather than weakness? These are the questions Pom Pom Squad leaves us pondering—questions that linger long after the last note fades.