Jean Pack has very little shame, and thank god for that. Baby’s in a T-Shirt is satire from top to bottom: lyrics, attitude, production and video all mess around with the same mix of childishness, absurdity and slight unease. It’s impossible not to grin while listening, even if there’s a lot more going on underneath all the silliness.
Musically, calling it simply bedroom pop feels a bit too neat. Sure, it has that rough, homespun DIY edge, but there’s plenty of 1960s girl-group DNA in there too, dragged through garage and lo-fi fuzz. The melodrama and backing vocals point straight towards The Shangri-Las, especially in the way something sweet and almost innocent can suddenly turn a little dark. The Velvet Underground’s “After Hours” also comes to mind: a simple, childlike melody with something oddly sad sitting behind it. In more recent territory, there’s a definite kinship with Shannon and the Clams in the mix of vintage melody, fuzz and kitsch.
The lyrics start as a joke about babies, nappies and shitting yourself without a care in the world, then quietly wander into something much more universal: how easy it seemed to exist before self-awareness, fear, identity and responsibility kicked in. A baby has no idea who they are or where they’re going. Adults, meanwhile, have a thousand things rattling around their heads. Then “your baby’s gone” lands, and suddenly the joke has a sting in it. That innocence isn’t coming back. End of story.
The video finishes the job. Dressed head to toe in black, Jean Pack pushes a pink pram around Cork while the screen fills with collages, ridiculous typefaces, roads, fields and pure visual chaos. By the end she’s so gloriously badly behaved she looks like a kid doing exactly what she’s been told not to do.
In short: four glorious minutes of fuzz, crying, prams, childish nihilism and absolutely no adult dignity. Bloody brilliant.
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