Waiting for the Punisher storm to pass is the smartest move Phoebe Bridgers could have made. Six long years between her last solo album and Lost Weekend is ample time to drain every possible interpretation of Bridgers’ work so far. Even her Boygenius material has been scraped to its core, refilled with fresh meanings from fans hungry for another round of Bridgers’ solo material. They get what they want, finally, and the wait is worth it. Bridgers presents an album stuffed with songs learned in the comfort of the quiet. She has hardly been seen in the spotlight bar the occasional post on social media, and it is an elusiveness most artists cannot afford. To be out of sight is to be out of mind for many and that is a death knell for smaller artists. But when you wrote Kyoto and used to be a member of Sloppy Jane, time does stop. At least for a little while. Bridgers’ low profile is a well-deserved break rather than this elusive nature for the sake of building want within her audience.
They’ll have wanted Lost Weekend whether she was around to promote it or not. A no-phones experience for her gigs is a leaf out of Bob Dylan’s book, another masterstroke from the so-called voice of a generation. Bridgers too has become the voice of a generation, though through different means and qualities. There’s no escaping the drawing power Bridgers has. Her sold-out shows speak for themselves and, rally against streaming numbers as some of us do, they paint a clear picture. Lost Weekend paints a clear picture, too, a tender and at times understated look at the six years between Punisher and now. In those first, vocoder-heavy moments of opening song The Outside is the sound of an artist who has enjoyed their time away from the spotlight. Another go around in the studio for old time’s sake, there is a sense that Bridgers isn’t as delighted by performing and playing as she once was. Things have changed and nowhere is that clearer than the instrumental style.
Bridgers is trying and failing, admirably so, to find calm waters in a tumultuous decade. In the silence, or near enough, when Bridgers’ vocals begin to fade out on The Outside comes a stark contemplation so far removed from the expectant, pop-adjacent flourishes of Punisher. Title track Lost Weekend feels like ample criticism at living through social media; be it the parasocial relationships or the slices of a life tailor-made for Instagram stories and TikTok reels, Bridgers is offering commentary to an audience who will conveniently not allow themselves to reflect on a message that could clearly do them some good. It would do us all good to listen in. Bridgers isn’t saying anything all that new, but she is spotlighting these topics in a way that builds her a bridge from previous studio efforts and into a wholly fresh and exciting instrumental spot. Across Lost Weekend Bridgers accepts fame as a consequence, rather than the aim, of strong work.
There’ll be those disappointed or underwhelmed by the likes of The Governor’s Ball, and while poor work is never intentional, the cultural notations Bridgers makes are at least impressive. Feeding a reference to The Shining early into the song rips away the regal nature of a ball, and it soon becomes a bit of fodder to knock out feelings on Paul Mescal and Gracie Abrams. Nice songwriting does little to build a gap between Bridgers’ intent and her read on past relationships. It’s the dissociation with fame and its consequences that feels like the best part of the album, and she thankfully returns to writing about that. Instrumentally, it’s an experimental selection from Bridgers. As much as it’s easy to mock Jack Antonoff for his previous efforts, he does a fantastic job here of moulding the next steps of Bridgers’ sound.
No wonder she wants no phones at the gigs, Lost Weekend is a deeply personal experience. She lays bare the intricacies of her life over the last six years, and it feels like she does this because it’s expected. We want to know all we can about the lives of our favourite artists but never stop to ask why we would ever want that information. Lost Weekend both accepts and defies the inevitability of hearing voice notes from those whose relationship to you is complicated. Never Going Back! is a call to arms so many have taken, be it to move from their hometown or to set out with a whole new career path. There’s a floating context across Lost Weekend that feels a little too wispy to make sense of, but are we meant to make sense of it? Bridgers has confided in her audience but sounds as though she, at times, regrets doing so.
Strong work from an artist unsure of her place in the spotlight, but certain of her talents. A few moments that could use a stronger context, or just a wider, elusive tone. It all comes together well on Lost Weekend though, an album where Bridgers sounds intact despite the carnage of the last six years. But we all suffer carnage and most of us haven’t the know how to write with floaty prose to explain ourselves with justifications for our actions. Bridgers does and it means we can fall onto her side relatively easily. Beyond the point of her writing, this is strong material the whole way through. Well-mixed, though instrumentally similar from song to song. It’s not so much that Bridgers is looking for consistency, rather she hopes the standout change-up to her song, be it a swell or dive in tone, is enough to make a difference. It is, but only just.
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