PHOEBE BRIDGERS – LOST WEEKEND
Photograph by Gregory Crewdson
Phoebe Bridgers is considered a heart-wrenching Gen-Z guru in the folk and alternative sphere. Besides releases with Julian Baker and Lucy Dacus as boygenius, fans and casual listeners alike had been patiently waiting for her solo follow-up to her smash-hit album Punisher. Lost Weekend, levelling up to 16 tracks plus a surprise bonus track on physical editions, was worth the incandescent, reverent wait.
The opening track ‘The Outside’ reveals a treasured, muted atmosphere, ready for an adventure but with a bit of hesitation and context to shake off, due to aggression that sometimes unfolds in her living space (“I’ll watch him get carried away / Fist through the drywall / I’m frozen in place / But not afraid”). Meanwhile, her fanbase uplifts and supports her, preventing her from injuring herself (“I dive into the crowd / And they never let me hit the ground … Screaming my ending / Fist in the air”).
Next is the catchy, semi-upbeat promotional single ‘Lost Boys’, a curtain into a world of crusading beats, an exploration of what it’s like to be a man in a society that demands frivolity (“Impatient / “With a rifle and your papers” / Weightless but not scared”). Nevertheless, life moves on and regurgitates regardless of any measurement of maturity. (“We are born again / So who cares where we’re going? / In the morning, you are not there”).
‘Kill Me’ slows it down again, evoking a humbling realisation that while you’re getting older with milestones to prove progress, you might still feel a certain age mentally, and that the only guarantee in life is how it ends. “Turning twenty-one / I’m not, but I was once / Certain, always / Now all I know is the ending”. The guitar reverbs and glistens into the echoes of Phoebe’s yearning for both the past and the future, with oscillation bouncing between these time periods in the instrumental breaks.
‘The Governor’s Waltz’ is a tale of encounters that should feel comforting and secure yet feel hollow and distant, as if you’re watching a performance of your life. Still, there can be solace in not experiencing every event directly, especially in the tough and breakthrough moments. “Now let’s see how far I can run without stopping / And she can pretend to be me / Since she took my place in my bed on that stage / I have not lost any sleep / Being myself wasn’t easy”. Ghostly backing vocals and dreamy escapism gravitate this song.
A synth-filled ‘Bobby’ is, in essence, a love song, most likely about Phoebe’s lover and collaborator Bo Burnham, whose voice backs hers in the bridge, filling the space in between that she ponders about. She’s committed to this relationship and all the fragile and silly moments that come with it. “Bobby, this could be the end of wanting / I exist only if you’re watching … Now I don’t know if I can make it tonight / But what are you doing the rest of my life, Bobby?”
Sophia Campana
★★★★★