The death of Phoebe Bridgers’ father is a recurring, strained subject on Lost Weekend. I do fear for the personability of her music as she steers more towards depending on the input of others, but her pursuit of such things is deterred by her heart. She handles the ambivalence of her grief with the complexity one could only determine by cracking into their own brain with a spoon like it’s a bowl of cereal. The title track’s reprise is an epilogue that embraces whatever clarity it can find, simply talking to you, making the sporadic observation. It begins with her father, but extends to figuring oneself out in the most gruelling way possible (I Can’t Wait, featuring a bit of harmony from Cameron Winter), and the harrowing realities of the world we face once coming of age, all for the sake of a good Peter Pan analogy, or Peter Panalogy (Lost Boys, nice background trumpets).
Much of the album is owed to uncertainty, particularly where relationships meet with Phoebe’s anxieties. She hides from the anxieties of her previous relationship on The Governor’s Waltz, suitably bobbing in tandem with her music like rubber ducks desperate to be hooked at a fairground. She decides to be brave and face the anxieties of the relationship on the title track, despite the shyness beautifully displayed by her hushed singing, her hushed atmospheres, just about musical. There is an effects-heavy moment where a million memories come flooding at once in a superfast supercut, like a bunch of mice scurrying from some wainscotting. Then comes Bo Burnham, Phoebe’s current squeeze who she often honours throughout the album, though while Kill Me’s underwater ambience and heart-stopping crescendo celebrates her receiving the best love she ever has, anxiety still creeps; she acknowledges that love, declares it, anxiety still creeps – there had to be something beneath the surface, I mean, the song is called Kill Me. Even looking forward to the future is funereal on As Above; the album’s mind-blowing, epiphany-grabbing climax that repurposes fear as a life essential – “whatever happens after, it doesn’t matter / you won’t have to believe in magic”. Liberty Tree contains a great feeling of being in a rush, existing to reach the pledge “don’t die, Bobby, before I die; it feels so good to have you in my life”.
Bobby is another tribute to Burnham – Bo Burnham’s full first name is Robert, for those not in the ‘biz. The song contains noticeably loud mixing; an outpouring of folk, a wall of sound, to some, probably a big mess. It isn’t as blown-out as Never Going Back’s banjo and mandolin combo, sub-two-minutes, but so bombastic that I would’ve loved to have heard more. The song fades out with a voice message left to Phoebe by her father, who acknowledges Phoebe’s busy lifestyle whilst hoping to catch up. There is an air of regret on Phoebe’s part, despite the tensions she must have felt with her father at all reachable, that she may still feel despite his passing. The human heart persists, alongside the complexities of the human conscience, that grieve with no clarity, that defy logic, reasoning and love when one least expects.
Best tracks – Kill Me – Lost Weekend – As Above.
Rating – 7 out of 10
