The moments of hope and wonder feel hard-fought for on Phoebe Bridgers’ insular and enthralling new record Lost Weekend and mean all the more for it.
The gifted singer-songwriter from LA meditates on both burgeoning love and the complex loss of her father on her first collection of solo work in six years, rushing a gauntlet of emotions while turning phrases as if they’re knives to be twisted.
If her retreat from the public eye for the past three years gave anyone pause to question Bridgers’ cultural relevance, or simply forget how much sweetness and sadness she could wring out of a pop song, Lost Weekend will promptly remind them she remains the most important contemporary indie artist, and most excitedly, is still honing her craft.
It’s amazing what a difference six years can make. Kiwi fans still stewing over Covid cruelling their chance to see Bridgers open for The National in Auckland in 2020 would now likely marvel at the notion of her warming up the crowd for anyone. Would The National now open for her? It’s a scenario that started to seem plausible in 2023 when she resembled an omnipotent pop culture force, appearing everywhere all at once; the fashion spreads, the guest appearances, the celebrity romance, fans pawing over the lyrics to Moon Song to decipher the status of her bond to Conor Oberst. The Boygenius supergroup album The Record being gushingly anointed as an instant classic was perhaps peak-Phoebe (though it was pretty good). Likely conscious of her overexposure, and feeling the toll of it, Bridgers then seemed to cast a spell and disappear – or maybe just delete her socials.
The wreckage that resulted from her whirlwind rise is all over Lost Weekend, including the first line to opening track The Outside – “Crying in a suit and tie / But you should see the other guy” – which may reference her estranged father’s funeral or the Boygenius tour. Singing with a vocoder, Bridgers’ voice would be unrecognisable if it wasn’t for her signature phrasing and cadence. The effect is isolating but also strangely comforting; and the same can be said for the whole record. Bridgers is at times aloof and oddball – later in the same song she drops a slick nod to Sun Kil Moon – yet even when her voice is heavily synthesized, or singing against a wall of sonic textures, it still conveys big emotions and beguiling intimacy.
Bridgers amassed a sizable team of collaborators for this one. She and usual production crew Tony Berg and Ethan Gruska were joined by Alex G and Jack Antonoff, while Lucy Dacus, Julian Baker, Oberst and Christian Lee Hutson – who co-wrote several of the songs – make their now customary appearances, among a host of others. Most impactful is Geese frontman Cameron Winter who provides a verse on the stellar second single I Can’t Wait (though under the pseudonym of “Son John-Johnson”). The sound design, which layers a myriad of beeps, swirls and field clips throughout the album, leans Lost Weekend to being a headphone album, which fits the vibe of isolation. The planetarium listening sessions held for the release day were a cool extension of this – putting fans together-alone in the dark against the galaxy’s expanse. That’s how Lost Weekend sounds and feels, but often so did Punisher.
The six-year gap between albums, not to mention the current impulse from some corners of the pop culture press to frame every new album or outfit as an “era”, might encourage some to frame Lost Weekend as being more radical than it is. There is a familiarity to many of these songs, which like much of Punisher, betray their debt to Elliott Smith and Mark Kozelek, such as The Governor’s Waltz and Liberty Tree, while Bobby, her upbeat ode to beau Bo Burnham, recalls the hook-driven propulsion of ICU. The tracklist deftly balances what we’ve come to expect from a Phoebe Bridgers album with a few key artistic stretches into new terrain – and crucially these are among the best songs. The aching, atmospheric Kill Me and the delicate, piano-driven As Above lead the way in this respect, the latter a simmering confessional, in the vein of Sufjan Stevens, until it gloriously boils over.
The album’s highs are many and often, the mid-record run of Bobby – Lost Weekend – Haunted a sublime trifecta that should have fans collapsing into the fetal position, whispering “album of the year” to themselves. The country-tinged Haunted is a strong contender for Bridgers’ best song yet – it’s certainly where she sounds the most satisfied. In the weary but therapeutic old-timey number she finds release through surrender and letting go of old baggage. Carried by a buoyant fiddle and mandolin, Bridgers accounts for the trappings of life on the road without sounding like an ungrateful star, which is no easy feat.
So I’m puttin’ on my makeup
While they’re lighting the stage up
You’re gonna have to live it every day
Tipping over the 50-minute mark and featuring several short sketches among its 16 tracks, I’m tempted to suggest Lost Weekend would benefit from being a tad tighter. But those minor note offerings, such as Panorama and Lost Parade, do act as effective palate cleansers between the brackets of more substantial tracks and help keep the tempo shifts interesting. The production won’t be for everyone – some of the songs do sound a little washed when turned up on the home stereo – but then few fans will be adding this to party playlists. They’ll be escaping into Lost Weekend when alone or feeling lonely – when Bridgers’ voice remains the perfect companion.
Matthew Dallas
Lost Weekend is out now via Dead Oceans
Phoebe Bridgers – I Can’t Wait (Official Video)
