Six years after her era-defining record “Punisher” in 2020, Phoebe Bridgers is finally back with her third studio album, and it is more hauntingly beautiful than ever.
Though largely a continuation of her well-developed, indie folk sound, this record introduces some electronic and ambient experimentation that is new for Bridgers, while still holding true to the intimate, slightly morbid and apocalyptic exploration of life that she is so well known for.
Bridgers opens the album with “The Outside,” a track with vocals that are layered and obscured with a vocoder, creating an eerie representation of dissociating through moments both quiet and loud. The experimental sound is a bit jarring at first, but once the initial surprise wears off, it only serves to enhance the themes of grief, confusion and being lost in time.
This is followed by the album’s lead single, “Lost Boys.” More upbeat than typical for Bridgers, this track is deceptively bright. But it wouldn’t be a Phoebe Bridgers song if it didn’t make you want to cry at least a little bit, and the nostalgic hook of “Never grow up, never grow old” does just that. Bridgers has perfected the art of sneaking up on you, making even the most content listeners pause from heartache at the final crashing chorus with its sweeping electric sitar and trumpeted melody.
Bridgers is joined by several longtime collaborators, including Ethan Gruska, Tony Berg, Christian Lee Hutson and Marshall Vore, as well as some new contributors. Jack Antonoff, Maya Hawke, Cameron Winter (under the pseudonym Son-John Johnson) and Bridgers’ partner Bo Burnham are all featured on the album. Though each influence can be felt throughout the album, particularly the distinctive voice of Winter on “Kill Me” and “I Can’t Wait,” it is likely Burnham who has made the strongest mark on the album.
Burnham is referred to repeatedly throughout the album as “Bobby,” most notably on the track of the same name. This song stands out for its surprising lack of a melancholic twist. A true, euphoric love song, it proves that this album is more than just gloom—even in the darkness, there are bright moments like “Bobby” that make the record a sweeping reflection of every strongest, most raw human emotion.
While Burnham is a repeating focus of the album, perhaps the most striking moments of the record are those focused on Bridgers’ father, who passed away in the six-year break between albums. Tracks like “Still Standing” explore the two’s complicated relationship, reflecting on childhood trauma and present grief, and the tangled feelings that arise when both revolve around the same person. This is one of the tracks where Bridgers’ reputation as a lyricist shines brightest, particularly in her use of gut-punching bluntness in lines like “I can’t imagine you dead / But you are every day / Thank you for everything.”
A haunting and intimate look into Bridgers’ life, “Lost Weekend” reflects not only her growing confidence as an artist, but her consistent strength as a lyricist, vocalist and unapologetic lover of songs that feel a little like heartbreak, and a little like a life lost to memory.