The Pink Chariot Mixtape by Laura Warshauer: A Pop Gem That Still Glows (Kinda)
Laura Warshauer’s The Pink Chariot Mixtape isn’t your typical 2011 pop record—it’s like that quirky friend who shows up uninvited but somehow steals the show. Released independently under “Not On Label,” this mixtape feels more like a scrapbook of teenage dreams and adult realizations than a polished studio album. And honestly? That’s what makes it stick.
Let’s dive into two tracks that really left their mark on me—or at least my playlist shuffle button. First off, there’s "Meet Me At Exit 109." It’s one of those songs where you’re not sure if you should cry in your car or just scream-sing along while driving way too fast. The lyrics are simple yet oddly specific—Exit 109 could be anywhere, right? But somehow, Warshauer turns it into this universal meeting point for heartbreak and hope. Like, yeah, we’ve all been stranded somewhere emotionally, waiting for someone who might never show up. Oof. Hits different every time I hear it.
Then there’s "Explode." Whoa, talk about an anthem for bottled-up feelings. This track is pure energy, with Warshauer’s voice soaring over synths that sound like they were ripped straight out of a late-night dance party. What gets me is how she flips between vulnerability (“I can’t hold it in anymore”) and full-on rebellion (“Let’s explode!”). You don’t just listen to this song—you live it. Or maybe that’s just me losing my mind during spin class. Either way, it works.
Other standouts include "To Will And Kate," which is basically the ultimate ode to royal wedding FOMO, and "Sweet Seventeen," a bittersweet nod to growing up too fast. Tracks like "Wishing Well" and "Heaven Above" keep things dreamy, while "Rockstar" throws in some sass for good measure. Honestly, the whole mixtape feels like flipping through pages of someone’s diary—messy, heartfelt, and kinda beautiful.
What strikes me most about The Pink Chariot Mixtape is how unapologetically DIY it feels. In a world obsessed with perfection, Warshauer gives us something raw and relatable. Sure, the production has its hiccups, and some transitions feel like they were stitched together with duct tape—but isn’t that kind of charming?
So here’s the kicker: Listening to this album in 2023 feels like finding an old Polaroid in your coat pocket. It’s nostalgic, sure, but also weirdly current. Maybe because we’re all still figuring out who we are, meeting people at random exits, and occasionally exploding from the pressure. Or maybe I’m just projecting. Either way, give this mixtape a spin—it’s worth the ride.
Oh, and P.S., Laura—if you’re reading this, please drop another project soon. We need more music that doesn’t try so hard to impress.
