Alvvays’ Debut Turns 10: Celebrating the Best Indie-Pop Record of the 2010s

This February, Alvvays took a moment to think about how far they’d come. The Canadian indie-pop group was standing on the red carpet at the 66th Grammy Awards, a sentence that might have sounded delightfully absurd once. But their song “Belinda Says” — a shimmering highlight from 2022’s Blue Rev that interpolated a lyric from Belinda Carlile — was nominated for Best Alternative Music Performance, so there were lead singer Molly Rankin, keyboardist Kerri MacLellan, guitarist Alec O’Hanley, and drummer Sheridan Riley, answering questions on the same glitzy path walked that day by Billie Eilish and Dua Lipa. “What have we learned?” Rankin repeated. “How to assemble an outfit, maybe?”

Alvvays lost to Paramore that night, but it didn’t really matter. The moment was validation for fans who have been cheering for this charming Canadian band for a long time — a decade, to be exact. Ten years ago today, Alvvays released their self-titled debut. It was clear right away that this was an instant classic, even before we knew for sure how to pronounce their name. (If anyone’s still wondering, it’s pronounced “always.” Rankin liked to clarify this at their early shows, kindly telling audience members that if they were confused, not to worry, they are not losers.) 

Alvvays seemingly came out of nowhere, even if it actually just came from Prince Edward Island. How many unknown indie bands debut this strongly, with nine no-skip tracks that stretch just over 30 minutes? The album is a perfect example of its form, a blaze of whimsical, blissful indie pop for the ages. Ten years later, we’re still playing it on repeat, from the stunner “Next of Kin” to the beloved anti-love song “Archie, Marry Me.” The latter now has over 100 million streams on Spotify — that’s a lot of invitations, floral arrangements, and bread makers to forget. “It was the most romantic thing I could think of at the time,” Rankin told Rolling Stone.

With many bands just starting out, you’ll find that a debut single like “Archie, Marry Me” overshadows the rest of the record, but that’s not an issue for Alvvays. The album opens with “Adult Diversion,” a millennial anthem on the timeless theme of unrequited love. There are lots of songs about that subject, but few have the guts to be as specific as Rankin is about the borderline-creepy crush thoughts everyone has at one point or another. “How do I get close to you?” Rankin sings. “Even if you don’t notice/As I admire you on the subway.” She puts you right there in the middle of her most uncomfortable moment, asking herself if she should make a move: “Is it a good time, or is it highly inappropriate?” And because she’s Molly Rankin, that line is a ridiculously catchy little hook in itself. Her dreamy yet polished delivery showed off what she’d learned as part of a musical family (the Nova Scotian folk collective the Rankins). Guitarist Alec O’Hanley’s studious jangle reflected years of indie history in a new light. Producer Chad VanGaalen’s muffled sound added some grit, making it all sound like one of the old bootlegs they might have discovered in a thrift-store bin. 

After “Archie,” we get “Ones Who Love You,” the kind of Track Three that does exactly what it needs to. It’s a delicate comedown from the deadpan drama of “Archie, Marry Me,” but it continues to grip us with its wistful lyrics about tumultuous weather. When this album came out, I had just moved from Miami to New York City, so lines like “When you live on an island/Nothing ever falls in place/The winters are violent/And you can’t ever feel your face/You can’t fucking feel your face” hit me quite hard — and they still do.

The record peaks with the heart-wrenching “Party Police,” which was sort of “All Too Well” for 2010s indie rock fans. It’s not nearly as long, but it’s just as devastating, as Rankin conquers her shyness to beg someone she cares for to stay a little later: “You don’t have to leave/You could just stay here with me/Forget all the party police/We can find comfort in debauchery.” The weather is still bad. It’s a rainy summer, there are daily hurricanes. Then it fades into “The Agency Group,” signifying a clearing in the clouds.

Alvvays circulated among music fans in Toronto for a few months before being picked up for release in the U.S. by Polyvinyl Records. It quickly became a word-of-mouth success in the summer of 2014, the kind of record you had to tell your friends about, or go see a show to find out if the songs felt this magical in person (they did). By year’s end, Alvvays were firmly established as leading lights of indie-pop, winning over just about everyone who had ever enjoyed a record by Belle and Sebastian or Camera Obscura. They’ve taken their time since then, releasing exactly two more albums, with 2017’s Antisocialites followed by Blue Rev, the album that got them to the Grammys. Both of them are indie masterpieces in their own right. But there’s still something special about the record that started it all.

Last year, I asked Rankin what she had in mind for the anniversary of their first album. “There are a lot of different brainstorming hubs going on,” she said. “I haven’t figured out what the appropriate thing to do is.” The result, we found out today, is a repressing of the record on cerulean blue vinyl, with the bonus track “Underneath Us.” Ten years, ten tracks of indie perfection. Cheers.