Dystopian fiction tends towards themes of technocratic authoritarianism, the persecution of marginalized groups and generally, bad vibes. There is often a Byronic hero or some sort of picaresque adventure that awaits the protagonist who, against all odds, finds some sort of victory in the face of all-encompassing oppression. To be sure, now is a great time to dive into some dystopian art, but rarely, if ever, does this art show what happens when the dust has settled. What befalls the survivors of the end times?
Margaret Driscal, a Quad Cities native, offers up a refreshing look at the apocalypse on Mommy Planet, a folk song cycle that imagines the year 4000, in which late-stage capitalism and climate change have won, leaving surviving humans, robots and Mommy Planet herself passing an acoustic guitar around a campfire for one final night of singing and reflection on everything that’s transpired in the wastelands.
Opening with “Sympathy For A Robot Pt. 1,” Mommy Planet treats us to a whimsical song from a robot’s point of view, noting that nothing happened to robots after the rapture. Being ageless and lacking human traits has its days, yet robots, too, are longing for the end. The more somber “Sympathy For A Robot Pt. 2” closes the album with the lines, “I’ve done it! I’ve broke fever / I’m the first Robot believer / and I believe that the rapture is coming back for me,” tying everything together with nice bookends, but the rest of the album explores more.
“Dust Bowl” personifies the loneliness and unrelenting rage of a dust bowl, akin to Neko Case’s “This Tornado Loves You.” This literal and metaphorical personification of weather phenomena is a harbinger of death and longing. Driscal’s voice itself is dusty and melodic. “Humidity” and “Help Me” similarly tie love and loss and longing to the changing of the weather, rounding out a triplet of heartfelt and clever songs.
“On Live” showcases a story of a lone survivor, satellite streaming their own slow demise to whatever may be left of their audience, now raptured or otherwise dispatched by the dust bowl. “You must be a Plus Member to see my face / I’ll be on Live until I die,” summarizes well our own social media-centric culture. Subscribe, ring that notification bell and keep watching, no matter how banal, until death. As long as the reactions and money keep flowing and we are all tethered to the inevitable, why stop?
The penultimate track, “The Year 4000,” dives further into all of the above themes, employing Driscal’s sharp lyricism and balancing touches of humor with heartbreak.
Mommy Planet is raw. DIY in its production and featuring primarily Driscal’s voice and guitar, it captures the charm of watching a folk artist surprise a crowd with intelligent lyrics that can make you laugh and cry in a single melody. For all the weight of the concepts, Driscal is never preachy or sanctimonious; instead, we get to feel the warmth of the characters facing imminent doom. May we all perish with a song in our hearts.
This article was originally published in Little Village’s April 2025 issue.
