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MALLORY HAWK
Chinook (s/r)
Add date: 8.4.2026
Release date: 7.31.2026
Links:
Apple Music
Bandcamp
Instagram
Official Website
Spotify
Substack
Tidal
TikTok
YouTube
Mallory Hawk strikes rock gold when she digs at her hometown roots. Chinook, the songwriter and multi-instrumentalist’s debut album, takes its title from the music of her old backyard: the overhead chuffing of helicopters. Hawk grew up in Fayetteville, NC, a quintessential military town; her dad’s ear was so trained to the sounds of aircrafts, he’d call out their names without looking up. “It’s the only helicopter in the world that can collide with itself,” he once noted to her after hearing a Chinook CH-47 pass, as the machine’s unique double-propeller construction can cause it to literally rip apart. In its workhorse strength, life-saving purpose, and self-destructive potential, Hawk saw a perfect analogy for herself: an unflagging caretaker, often to the detriment of her wellbeing. “Even when I was down to the last bit of fuel in my reserve tank, I’d still give away every last drop to nurture and care for others. Routinely channeling my anger into song made me realize that my self-sacrifice had to stop,” she remembers. The songs on Chinook are sparkling facets of her insight into place, personhood and obligation, unflinchingly presented with the power and versatility of someone who could tear herself in two with all that lifting, but instead uses art as her rescue.
Chinook’s relief mission traces a spinning path between Hawk’s Southern childhood and Northeastern adulthood. “I was living a double life of going to shows after work and changing my clothes in the car,” she says of her post-collegiate time in Boston. In pursuit of a closer relationship to music, Hawk moved to New York City in 2017; there, she wrote songs often, contributed bass and vocals to post-punk outfit Customer, joined indie band Trace Mountains, and toured as bassist for Dublin group M(h)aol. Some of Chinook’s most urgent songs came during her time in this scene—like “D’Anger,” on which layers of feedback, laser-zapped delays, and harmonic bends swivel around Hawk’s electrifying kiss-offs. “Invasion of the ungrateful / that’s enough, thank you,” she lilts dismissively, the song about breaking with exhausting relationships to save one’s own health. “Caretaker,” an egg punk wail with a synaptic tangle of riffs, also started in New York; it chews over the confounding desire for sickness when it offers reprieve from responsibilities.
“I always wanted to just be in bands and never be the star, but relying on other people really turned into a fool’s errand,” recalls Hawk. And so her first solo entry, 2024’s “All Your Troubles / Run Until They Catch You,” was a dense double-single on which she performed almost every instrument. “So much of that exercise had to do with being a woman,” she admits. “I needed to feel the validation that I could do it without asking for help.” The pressure resulted in phenomenal recordings, but brought on a chronic illness flare-up and a feeling of unsustainability. Hawk decided to move back to Fayetteville, living with her parents to save money for more studio time.
Revisiting her North Carolina childhood stirred reminders of its bright spots—like Hawk’s forays into violin, drums, guitar, photography, modeling, and poetry—but also her youthful trauma, memories of which resurfaced as she wrote Chinook. “Low Rise” explores teenage repression under the heteronormative influence of Christianity, coalescing into monstrous drums and untethered guitar squall. “Four O’Clocks,” with brushed cymbals and pacing bass, envisions Hawk’s earliest familial home; it was demolished to build a highway connecting to the military base, one example of a hypocrisy that sees Army towns prioritizing profit over servicemembers. Opener “The Mirror” similarly explores disconnection between an idealized place and its political realities, using field recordings, warped leads, and entranced vocals to enact interpersonal tension. Hawk describes “a moment of looking at myself in the mirror and feeling proud of who I’d become, but frustrated that I have to mute the ways I express myself”—a bitterness that grew worse in Fayetteville.
Hawk has always felt enamored with disparate forms of rock, low- and high-brow; her mom stocked the car with cassettes and took the family to Lilith Fair, and her dad routinely played guitar, exposing her to tons of influences. Chinook contains a fluent mix of her formative musical loves, melding feminist narratives and hard-hitting arrangements. The eerie harmonies of Incubus and Alanis Morissette cohabit with the startling rhythms of Frank Zappa and Tori Amos, and Hawk’s lyrics are adroitly steeped in the confessional storytelling shared by folk and emo. Whether it’s revered grunge like Stone Temple Pilots or “post-grunge of the buttrock variety,” Hawk has always seen a throughline between rock music and her suburban Southern American upbringing; across the album, she navigates these sonic topographies expertly, recounting how changing place has defined her sense of sound and self.
To produce Chinook, Hawk tapped likemindedly omnivorous musician Sam Acchione (Alex G, Jessica Lea Mayfield), whom she’d befriended during her tenure in Customer. The two often spent hours trading liner notes minutiae, resulting in a collaboration that weaves songwriting idiosyncrasies with two lifetimes of radio scholarship. Hawk joined Acchione in Philadelphia to track at storied Headroom Studios (Hop Along, Algernon Cadwallader). There, she contributed tons of layers to Chinook—bass, drum machine, organ, rhythm and lead guitars—while Acchione encouraged unexpected overdubs like flugelhorn and djembe. “Revolver,” about the cyclic nature of loyalty, came from a music course exercise in using foundational chord structures, defying Hawk’s proclivity toward the oddball; its palette deepened with Acchione’s addition of slide fretless baritone guitar. “Rotten Man,” a meter-shifting rumination on addiction within her family, was intentionally tracked like a loose rock band, with a different musician on every instrument. “Superhighway,” Hawk’s foray into Eastern European darkwave, highlights synth speed runs from Logan Roth (Miss Lauryn Hill; Slaughter Beach, Dog). “It was so fun to take a break from my hands and my instrument playing, and sit back and watch,” marvels Hawk over the Philly luminaries who appear on the record, including Craig Hendrix (Japanese Breakfast), Ava Mirzadegan, and Will Butera (Joy Again). That list of local legends also includes Hawk, as Philadelphia is now her home as well.
Across the album, Hawk’s melodies weather unexpected journeys through tempo and tone, presenting the flavors of rage and tenderness she’s sampled in her roles as a friend, neighbor, family member, and creator. The intimate songs that began as home-recorded sessions opened up into full-band bounty, supported and enhanced by Hawk’s years as a steward of her scene. As a result, Chinook is strange yet classic—a soaring, solid and singularly envisioned vehicle of self-preservation.
Written by Sadie Dupuis
Apple Music
Bandcamp
Official Website
Spotify
Substack
Tidal
TikTok
YouTube
Mallory Hawk strikes rock gold when she digs at her hometown roots. Chinook, the songwriter and multi-instrumentalist’s debut album, takes its title from the music of her old backyard: the overhead chuffing of helicopters. Hawk grew up in Fayetteville, NC, a quintessential military town; her dad’s ear was so trained to the sounds of aircrafts, he’d call out their names without looking up. “It’s the only helicopter in the world that can collide with itself,” he once noted to her after hearing a Chinook CH-47 pass, as the machine’s unique double-propeller construction can cause it to literally rip apart. In its workhorse strength, life-saving purpose, and self-destructive potential, Hawk saw a perfect analogy for herself: an unflagging caretaker, often to the detriment of her wellbeing. “Even when I was down to the last bit of fuel in my reserve tank, I’d still give away every last drop to nurture and care for others. Routinely channeling my anger into song made me realize that my self-sacrifice had to stop,” she remembers. The songs on Chinook are sparkling facets of her insight into place, personhood and obligation, unflinchingly presented with the power and versatility of someone who could tear herself in two with all that lifting, but instead uses art as her rescue.
Chinook’s relief mission traces a spinning path between Hawk’s Southern childhood and Northeastern adulthood. “I was living a double life of going to shows after work and changing my clothes in the car,” she says of her post-collegiate time in Boston. In pursuit of a closer relationship to music, Hawk moved to New York City in 2017; there, she wrote songs often, contributed bass and vocals to post-punk outfit Customer, joined indie band Trace Mountains, and toured as bassist for Dublin group M(h)aol. Some of Chinook’s most urgent songs came during her time in this scene—like “D’Anger,” on which layers of feedback, laser-zapped delays, and harmonic bends swivel around Hawk’s electrifying kiss-offs. “Invasion of the ungrateful / that’s enough, thank you,” she lilts dismissively, the song about breaking with exhausting relationships to save one’s own health. “Caretaker,” an egg punk wail with a synaptic tangle of riffs, also started in New York; it chews over the confounding desire for sickness when it offers reprieve from responsibilities.
“I always wanted to just be in bands and never be the star, but relying on other people really turned into a fool’s errand,” recalls Hawk. And so her first solo entry, 2024’s “All Your Troubles / Run Until They Catch You,” was a dense double-single on which she performed almost every instrument. “So much of that exercise had to do with being a woman,” she admits. “I needed to feel the validation that I could do it without asking for help.” The pressure resulted in phenomenal recordings, but brought on a chronic illness flare-up and a feeling of unsustainability. Hawk decided to move back to Fayetteville, living with her parents to save money for more studio time.
Revisiting her North Carolina childhood stirred reminders of its bright spots—like Hawk’s forays into violin, drums, guitar, photography, modeling, and poetry—but also her youthful trauma, memories of which resurfaced as she wrote Chinook. “Low Rise” explores teenage repression under the heteronormative influence of Christianity, coalescing into monstrous drums and untethered guitar squall. “Four O’Clocks,” with brushed cymbals and pacing bass, envisions Hawk’s earliest familial home; it was demolished to build a highway connecting to the military base, one example of a hypocrisy that sees Army towns prioritizing profit over servicemembers. Opener “The Mirror” similarly explores disconnection between an idealized place and its political realities, using field recordings, warped leads, and entranced vocals to enact interpersonal tension. Hawk describes “a moment of looking at myself in the mirror and feeling proud of who I’d become, but frustrated that I have to mute the ways I express myself”—a bitterness that grew worse in Fayetteville.
Hawk has always felt enamored with disparate forms of rock, low- and high-brow; her mom stocked the car with cassettes and took the family to Lilith Fair, and her dad routinely played guitar, exposing her to tons of influences. Chinook contains a fluent mix of her formative musical loves, melding feminist narratives and hard-hitting arrangements. The eerie harmonies of Incubus and Alanis Morissette cohabit with the startling rhythms of Frank Zappa and Tori Amos, and Hawk’s lyrics are adroitly steeped in the confessional storytelling shared by folk and emo. Whether it’s revered grunge like Stone Temple Pilots or “post-grunge of the buttrock variety,” Hawk has always seen a throughline between rock music and her suburban Southern American upbringing; across the album, she navigates these sonic topographies expertly, recounting how changing place has defined her sense of sound and self.
To produce Chinook, Hawk tapped likemindedly omnivorous musician Sam Acchione (Alex G, Jessica Lea Mayfield), whom she’d befriended during her tenure in Customer. The two often spent hours trading liner notes minutiae, resulting in a collaboration that weaves songwriting idiosyncrasies with two lifetimes of radio scholarship. Hawk joined Acchione in Philadelphia to track at storied Headroom Studios (Hop Along, Algernon Cadwallader). There, she contributed tons of layers to Chinook—bass, drum machine, organ, rhythm and lead guitars—while Acchione encouraged unexpected overdubs like flugelhorn and djembe. “Revolver,” about the cyclic nature of loyalty, came from a music course exercise in using foundational chord structures, defying Hawk’s proclivity toward the oddball; its palette deepened with Acchione’s addition of slide fretless baritone guitar. “Rotten Man,” a meter-shifting rumination on addiction within her family, was intentionally tracked like a loose rock band, with a different musician on every instrument. “Superhighway,” Hawk’s foray into Eastern European darkwave, highlights synth speed runs from Logan Roth (Miss Lauryn Hill; Slaughter Beach, Dog). “It was so fun to take a break from my hands and my instrument playing, and sit back and watch,” marvels Hawk over the Philly luminaries who appear on the record, including Craig Hendrix (Japanese Breakfast), Ava Mirzadegan, and Will Butera (Joy Again). That list of local legends also includes Hawk, as Philadelphia is now her home as well.
Across the album, Hawk’s melodies weather unexpected journeys through tempo and tone, presenting the flavors of rage and tenderness she’s sampled in her roles as a friend, neighbor, family member, and creator. The intimate songs that began as home-recorded sessions opened up into full-band bounty, supported and enhanced by Hawk’s years as a steward of her scene. As a result, Chinook is strange yet classic—a soaring, solid and singularly envisioned vehicle of self-preservation.
Written by Sadie Dupuis