What is happening in our world? Who is doing what? what is going on now? These are questions that will be answered. Enjoy.
Boygenius Album Review – Boygenius Gives Me Hope for the Future With One of the Best Albums of the Year
The year of our Lord 2018 has been, by near unanimous concession, a very hard year for women. It follows, of course, a year that was also very hard for women, as well as several hundreds of thousands of years that preceded it that also weren’t all that kind. Recently, though, we have seen the powers that be abandon Dr. Christine Blasey Ford after she laid herself bare before the nation and witnessed a population become emboldened—in many cases, motivated—by a man who advocates for, literally, grabbing females he finds attractive by their genitals. We have seen Planned Parenthoods defunded and access to crucial health benefits, like birth control and maternity leave, restricted. The list goes on, and on and I am tired. My god, I am tired. I have a feeling you are as well.
I am sorry to report that I have not found a solution for these misguided times, but I do come bearing a salve: the stunning, self-titled debut collection from boygenius, a new supergroup featuring Lucy Dacus, Julien Baker, and Phoebe Bridgers, three young women (each is under 25 years old) and three of the most promising talents operating anywhere in music. Out now, the six-song set wafts between airy indie rock, stripped-down pop, and warm-hearted folk as it treks through self-doubt, soured romance, and the sorcery of love.
In their solo careers, each lyricist’s ability to capture emotions in all their distressing, confusing, knotty and nuanced glory is remarkable. (To wit: Dacus’ harrowing “Pillar of Truth,” off her 2018 album, Historian, Bridgers’ burbling “Motion Sickness,” or Baker’s stark “Claws in Your Back,” both coming via the artists’ 2017 sets.) But together, lifted by goose feather soft harmonies and a careful compromising of each artist’s style to fit into the nooks of their collaborators, it’s transcendent.
“Me & My Dog,” a song anchored by Bridgers, recalls the rush of an all-night make out session in a budding relationship. It’s not all honeyed memories, though. Over heady, swirling instrumentation and atmospherics, her bandmates join in admitting: “I wanna be emaciated/I wanna hear one song without thinking of you.” On “Ketchum, ID” they explore the loneliness that comes with being in love: “Nothing to say/but stay on the phone,” sings Baker. “No I’m sorry I do not know/what else you want from me.” Anyone who has found themselves plagued by the same flu will relate.
And occasionally, like on “Salt in the Wound,” one of the finest songs of the year, it’s devastating. Over an ocean of feedback, Dacus speak-sings:
You put salt in the wound
And a kiss on my cheek.
You butter me up
And sit down to eat.
You add insult to injury.
You say you believe in me,
But you haven’t decided
About taking or leaving me.
She’s joined by Bridgers and Baker on the chorus:
But you take and you take
Like silks up my sleeve
Tied corner to corner
Trick after trick,
I make the magic,
And you unrelentingly
Ask for the secret.
I felt raw after I heard that. Wrecked, actually. But I also felt very proud. This collection, this sparse, delicate, woeful, strong, paranoid, and bold collection, does more than just sound wonderful. (Though how wonderful it sounds!) It dares women to create in our likeness. To relish in our shared identity—to make something beautiful because of and in spite of it all.
To hear it is to hear the future, at least the one I hope for.