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At some point in history, it became a given that debut albums by indie bands had to be described as some kind of virtuosic, single-minded work. It’s such a boring trope: the suffering auteur, going mad from their own genius, working with a band but channelling some vision they could only ever craft alone. That idea is simplistic, and often untrue, but it’s especially untrue for Gems, the debut album by Dannika. Listen to the record, and it’s impossible to deny Dannika’s dexterity, her specific, distinctive style — a natural gravitation toward bright melody, a fondness for blushing, impressionistic prose on slower songs and beautifully direct, almost bratty rebukes on faster ones — but Gems isn’t so feeble as to rely on some kind of auteur myth. On the plainest level, this album is clearly the product of four people who are in tune on some kind of profound emotional level, whose contributions are strongest when working in tandem with each other. Dannika slips into the music on Gems

Dannika started writing songs when she bought the cheapest bass she could find online. When she showed Liam one of her songs, they decided to make music together. Since then, the band has become four mates who like to make soft, feminine rock together. Their style is low fi and a bit messy with honest lyrics plucked straight from diary entries.