Lucy Dacus’ ‘Home Video’: Album Critique

Even nevertheless they’re all alpha musicians in their have ideal, it’s normally tough not to…

Even nevertheless they’re all alpha musicians in their have ideal, it’s normally tough not to consider of Lucy Dacus, Julien Baker and Phoebe Bridgers — near buddies and members of the semi-supergroup facet-job Boygenius — as a one, multi-faceted entity. Boygenius has only introduced an EP and accomplished a person tour, but the three be part of their fantastically matched harmonies on a track or two on each members’ solo albums, and most of all, their creative sensibilities appear from very similar spots, with lyrics that share a private, memoir/novelistic high quality, inspite of their differing appears and backgrounds.

Which is a longwinded and slightly unfair way to direct into “Home Video clip,” the highly effective third album from the deepest-voiced member of that trio, Dacus (and 3rd in the triumvirate of Bridgers’ Grammy-nominated “Punisher” and Baker’s “Little Oblivions”), which finds her each revisiting her youth and stepping into a whole new realm as a songwriter and artist.

Irrespective of Dacus’ singer-songwriter template, this is quite a lot a band album, and her collaborators mirror and anticipate the ebbs and flows of the songs’ moods — most amusingly on “VBS” (which stands for Trip Bible College, reflecting Dacus’ religious upbringing). Throughout the lyric, “While you are likely to snooze your mind keeps you awake… participating in Slayer at total volume helps to drown it out,” the music briefly drops out, but at the term “Slayer,” pulverizing electric power chords occur crashing in, drowning out the rest of the line. Through the album, the creation and accompaniment — and the blend, by Grammy-winning engineer Shawn Everett of Alabama Shakes fame — are stuffed with intricately layered keyboards and guitars Baker and Bridgers sing harmony on two tracks.

But what truly sets Dacus apart are her lyrics, and “Home Video” is like a Southern brief tale selection about adolescence. The bio, written by novelist Catherine Lacey, states, it “was constructed on an interrogation of [Dacus’] coming-of-age years in Richmond, Virginia.”

Each individual music is crammed with vividly noticed recollections and vignettes: “Curse phrases and vacant cups, cracked blacktop curling up/ Heat wave by midday, heat lightning on a summer time night” (“Cartwheel”) “Eating cherries on the bridge, ft dangling, throwing the pits and stems into the racing existing below” (“Partner in Crime”). “Going Going Gone” is a memory of the uncomfortable early a long time of relationship: “After supper, just before darkish, we’d satisfy at the exact same bench in the park/ Sweaty palms, averted eyes, was not sure if he and I ended up heading out.”

But many of the tunes are topical, and generally unsettlingly so. “Thumbs” is about accompanying a lover to meet their estranged, evidently trauma-inducing father (“I enjoy your eyes and he has ‘em/ Or you have his, ‘cause he was initial/ I consider my thumbs on the irises urgent in until they burst.” And the closing monitor, “Triple Dog Dare,” is about two pals who run absent from residence, evidently forever (“They put our faces on the milk jugs/ Lacking kids til they gave up”).

Like several short tale collections, it ends the album on an inconclusive and ambiguously disturbing take note (a repeated line, “Nothing worse can come about now”), leaving you wanting to know the ending but not actually minding that you do not, and flipping again to the starting — not just for clues, but mainly because you want much more.