Phoebe Bridgers, I Miss You
currently waiting like a dog with a bird at her door
Phoebe Bridgers, pop culture’s personified anomaly. An unparalleled songwriter who wields the voice of a sad angel. Open her discography, close your eyes, and aimlessly press— sorrow, and longing are certain to materialize through song. I have always said that, to me, she is Sally Rooney with musical prowess. Similar to the writing style of my favorite author, there is an unchanging simplicity to the lines that frame Phoebe’s catalog, yet they regularly leave lasting marks.
I tend to dote on talented songwriters, especially those who can casually deliver a string of seemingly innocent words that fatally impair on impact— Lana Del Rey, Gracie Abrams, MUNA, Lucy Dacus, Mitski, Laura Marling, Fiona Apple, The 1975, St. Vincent, Sufjan Stevens, Ethel Cain, Florence Welch, and Taylor Swift (obviously). And yet, Phoebe Bridgers still sits separate in my mind. Perhaps it is personal, perhaps it is universal. Regardless, I cannot shake her. How has she managed to write such simple things, such obvious ideations, that simultaneously crack my brain in half? How can things that feel so obvious, be concurrently groundbreaking? She is a walking juxtaposition, pop culture’s appointed sad girl, and I miss her terribly.
boygenius
However, it is important to note that Phoebe Bridgers has not been gone for long. the record by boygenius just had its 1st birthday, and the band’s final performance before their hiatus was only a few month ago. If you’re not familiar with boygenius, I feel incredibly sorry for you. . . and am also quite jealous. You possess the ability to experience the record (and the band’s two EPs) for the very first time, and here you are, sitting there all cute and ignorant. Go and listen, you can thank me later.
Phoebe Bridgers, Lucy Dacus, and Julien Baker spilled their blood, guts, and spit into boygenius this past year. The three of them combined their powers and forged something greater than the sum of their parts. They toured coast-to-coast, earning three Grammys along the way, demonstrating to the world that friendship may indeed be one of the most powerful forces in existence (especially when each friend carries the ability to pack that invisible punch in everything they write).
In the beginning, for me, boygenius was like Phoebe music on melancholy crack. I say this because, before I knew the band, I only knew Phoebe. Now, I see each member as a singular, ingenious entity. However, because Phoebe was my introducer, my perception of boygenius, as well as my perception of Lucy and Julien, was through the lens of my reverence for Phoebe. In this, it seemed undeniable that, although the three of them are distinctive, there was and is an inescapable likeness among them. They each possess an uncanny energy that connects them cosmically— you can see it when they’re together, and you can feel it when they perform. So, why do I still miss Phoebe, even though she never went anywhere?
Well, each member of boygenius possesses their own captivating writing voice (no surprise there). Lucy is like an authoress, weaving evocative introspection and lyricism reminiscent of Virginia Woolf. Tracks such as “True Blue,” “We’re In Love,” and “Afraid of Heights,” though credited to all three, are unmistakably steeped in Lucy's poignant style. On the flip side, Julien maintains a striking ability to keep things raw, even amidst intense emotions. “$20,” “Satanist,” and “Anti-Curse” showcase this, each beginning with the electrifying strum of Baker’s guitar. Lyrics like “Making peace with my inevitable death / I guess I did alright, considering / Tried to be a halfway decent friend / Wound up a bad comedian” flow across the jagged metal strings like a fish, creating an addictive allure (I beat “Anti-Curse” to shit when the record first dropped).
And then, there are songs like “Emily I’m Sorry,” “Revolution 0,” and “Letter To An Old Poet,” which feel like they were plucked from Phoebe’s personal repertoire. Now, do not get it twisted. It is precisely the combination of these vivid, contrasting, yet somehow cohesive songs that make up the record, that directly contribute to boygenius’s success. They blended their creative wisdom to craft a music collection that transcended their individual projects, and I would rather die than imagine a world where they didn’t dominate the indie-rock-alt scene. But, how am I, a girl whose brain shifted after Stranger in the Alps and Punisher, supposed to ignore that these very songs are what my life has been missing?
Craving More Despite Attempts to Satisfy
What am I doing while waiting for Phoebe Bridgers' third album? Listening to her first two. Again. And again. To me, they are timeless. To me, they do not get old, but instead, take on a fresh, new shade each time I listen. Phoebe uses uncomplicated language to untangle affairs that often cause convoluted emotions, like childhood experiences that gain depth as we age or adult themes like depression, religion, and heartbreak. This collision, where convolution is expressed through casualness, not only astounds me but often allows me to digest the same song in a different way with each listen.
I find this most notably in songs like “Scott Street” and “Chinese Satellite.” In “Chinese Satellite,” she ponders over religion and her helpless inability to believe in it. To her, this is not some sort of stance or choice she has made. She is genuinely incapable of putting her faith in something she can’t help but find one-dimensional— though she wishes she could.
“Took a tour to see the stars
But they weren't out tonight,
So I wished hard on a Chinese satellite.
I want to believe,
Instead, I look at the sky and I feel nothing.
You know I hate to be alone.
I want to be wrong.”
In such simple terms, Phoebe explains that although she went out to see the stars, they were not out. So, instead, she wished on something manmade and artificial. This metaphor is lucid, but I cannot help but emphasize how compelling it is. Despite attempting to be spiritual, she is forced to resign to manufactured realness, because it is much easier to believe in. At the end of the song, she alludes to her moments of near-faith, as well as her desperate wishes to believe that there is more, because if there was, reality would be much more comforting.
“Sometimes, when I can't sleep,
It's just a matter of time before I'm hearing things.
Swore I could feel you through the walls,
But that's impossible.
I want to believe
That if I go outside I'll see a tractor beam
Coming to take me to where I'm from.
I want to go home."
Phoebe has talked about how this song is also about “turning 11 and not getting a letter from Hogwarts, just realizing that nobody's going to save me from my life, nobody's going to wake me up and be like, ‘Hey, just kidding. Actually, it's really a lot more special than this, and you're special.’” This reference echoes a universal sentiment of childhood fantasies colliding with the reality of adulthood. This realization, though saddening, is a common aspect of growing up.
And yet, she still holds out hope. She still wants to believe in something greater, which is a widespread desire. Whether it is a tractor beam taking one back to where they're from or the hope of magical intervention, these both reflect a longing for a simpler, more mystical existence. This longing can also be seen in the context of religion, where the ease of submitting to a higher power contrasts with the complexities of life. These ideas can be hard to untangle, yet, Phoebe manages to write about them in common, plain terms. In more ways than not, this tool of simplicity somehow manages to pack a greater punch than complexity.
Like many, “Scott Street” is my favorite Phoebe Bridgers song. On reflection, I was surprised at how short the lyrics looked when faced with them on a page. The song takes you on such an intimate, cinematic journey, that it feels grander than two verses and two choruses (which stand as one mere question). As Phoebe narrates her walk through a street she used to often idle, she paints a vivid picture by telling listeners that she feels like a stranger on it. This is relatable, whether in light of returning to your childhood block or the street you lived on with an ex-lover, the feeling one gets from feeling disillusioned by the environment that used to be home is an interesting one.
(Interesting enough to base an entire album— Stranger in the Alps —off of. The album cover perfectly captures this uncanny, yet often ineffable nostalgia, with a painted ghost over a picture of Phoebe as a child. It is as though, who she once was is a phantom— someone she wouldn’t even recognize on the street, similar to a stranger.)
Once the first verse ends and the chorus begins, a conversation soon follows.
Do you feel ashamed
When you hear my name?I asked you, "How is your sister?
I heard she got her degree"
And I said, "That makes me feel old"
You said, "What does that make me?"
I asked you, "How is playing drums?"
Said, "It's too much shit to carry"
"And what about the band?"
You said, "They're all gettin' married"
It is interesting, how simple these lyrics can look without her voice singing them over the influential music. As soon as she asks, “How is playing drums,” a low beat kicks in that pulses life through the verse. It adds layers to the song once you know that, the conversation she is meant to be having is with her drummer, who also exists as a (initial) best friend and ex-partner in Phoebe’s life. It seems this conversation signals a meeting after quite some time a part following their breakup. There is a simple awkwardness, a lot left unsaid, and narrative points that we will never know. It doesn’t matter, though, because these lines digest uniquely inside of everyone, and these blanks get filled in differently everytime (like most songs, I suppose).
It is an numbing, uncomfortable experience to reconnect with someone you used to love, in a place you both used to know. As the verse ends, Phoebe’s voice is engulfed by the song’s body as her pretty voice coos over a harmonizing choir. In the distance, you hear a car horn, a train’s engine, a bike bell ring, and all the little sounds that make a hometown sound like a hometown. Over all of it, Phoebe repeats, “Anyway, don’t be a stranger.” This is quite a simple phrase to end a meaningful, yet painfully dull reflection of a song. After all that they have been through, and after all that they have been a part for, her throwaway afterthought to this person is a genuine, but casual statement that hopes they won’t be a stranger to them.
Phoebe-Coded
It's also clear that she doesn't sacrifice the specificity of her personal experiences to make the lyrics more apt for relatability. Generally, her lines are so uniquely particular to her life that they may not directly resonate with others' experiences, although they often are potent in emotional resonance. For example, despite not being able to apply my life to the precise play-by-play of “Moon Song” or “Would You Rather,” I find them both incredibly evocative and tender to the touch. In “Moon Song,” she begins by singing:
You asked to walk me home,
But I had to carry you.
And you pushed me in
And now my feet can't touch the bottom of you.You couldn't have, you couldn't have
Stuck your tongue down the throat of somebody
Who loves you more,
So I will wait for the next time you want me
Like a dog with a bird at your door.
The 'favor' that this song begins with, someone asking to walk you home, is quickly soured by the following line. This kind, often romantic gesture of good service is diluted by the person’s drunken inability to walk. Consequently, the generous offer transforms into a burden for Phoebe, as she must now carry him home, despite his masculine urge to provide a safeguard for her. A situation like this could surely awaken some relational doubt, but it is too late to walk away, because, despite the complications of loving this person, Phoebe has already been pushed into the deep end. She is stuck between the bottom and the surface, helpless in her lovelorn state.
She then continues to insinuate that her lover stuck their tongue down the throat of another, despite the fact that the accomplice certainly couldn’t have loved them more than she does. The relentless presence of self-abasement is incredibly sad, and continues to solidify as she compares herself to a dog waiting at their door with a bird in its mouth, staying put until the next time its owner wishes to provide love and attention.
The song continues to allude to this irregular power dynamic between these two entities, and the desperation that leaks from the mouth and eyes of the narrator is potent. It is sad, it is pathetic, it is relatable. Relatable despite the deeply personal lines that sing,
You are sick, and you're married, and you might be dying
But you're holdin' me like water in your hands,
When you saw the dead little bird, you started crying
But you know the killer doesn't understand
It can be assumed that most who listen to this song and discover stark correlations and deep connections do not blatantly relate to ever being with someone who was sick, married, and presumably on the verge of death. It doesn’t matter, though, because Phoebe’s ability to sew her unabashed experience into the seams of her songs too powerful. I scream these lyrics over the top of her voice as though it is my story she is telling, when in reality, it is only hers. She is able to do this by not leaving any stone— regardless of how seemingly irrelevant —unturned.
In “Would You Rather,” this is also the case. This song is so incredibly specific to Phoebe’s life, that I was actually uninterested in it for a long time. There wasn’t a natural pull that I felt towards the words, and they didn’t initially paint the clearest picture, so I would often skip it since I couldn’t tell what it was about. This was until the line, “We have the same face” passed through my ears and into my brain like a parasite. It hasn’t left since.
In “Would You Rather,” she writes about her relationship with her brother, and how it has developed into adulthood. It begins by setting a very precise scene,
Playing 'Would You Rather', when it comes to fire
You always say that you'd prefer to drown.
You were still in the ambulance
When the cop suggested you're the one who tried to burn it down.Come to find out,
I'm a can on a string, you're on the end.
We found our way out
Of a suicide pact of our family and friends.
In the background,
I'll be waitin'.
She intimately recalls an innocent game that she and her brother would play when they were young: Would You Rather. Narratively, she continues by remaining in this time of her life, alluding to a house fire that her family once endured. When it happened, a police officer on the scene was quick to suspect that her brother was the instigator. However, Phoebe knows that this couldn’t be true, because when given the ultimatum of either dying by fire or drowning, he always chooses the latter.
I deeply enjoy this childish logic, because, although it may indeed be juvenile, anyone with siblings could argue that this strategy of reasoning holds more weight than most others. I mean, obviously she would know, as his sister, if he were to have desired to burn down their childhood home. They are simply too close, and years after this instance, they maintained their closeness. She has one can in her hand, he has the other, and they are connected by this metaphoric (though, likely once literal) string. Together, they found their way out of a home that was insistently toxic (which she touches on in the following verse), and in the background of everything, she will always be waiting for him.
I could cry.
I think my favorite part of this song is when it begins to conclude,
Next time I see you, you'll show me
A hundred different ways to say the same things.[Chorus]
And when you touch down
I'll be waving
It is simple, yes, but that is precisely how Phoebe manages to slide through the cracks of convolution, creating lines that punch far deeper due to their uncomplicated nature. The next time she sees her brother, he will show her a hundred different ways to say the same things, signaling that they mirror each other in most ways (not only their face but also their mind), due to their shared childhood and preserved connection.
During conversations, they agree with each other, reaffirming opinions by simply rewording what has already been said. This quiet magic of understanding somebody, because you know them, is a very addictive aspect of friendship and sibling-ship. Oftentimes, it can feel as though only that person truly understands you because they were around for things that cannot be repeated or taught. Very little comes close to touching such a relationship.
Words Come First
Despite her publicly stating that her songs always begin with words first, it was always pretty obvious to me. Oftentimes, when you first hear a Phoebe song, you cannot foresee where the melody is taking you. This is a dissimilar experience for many artists, as they often begin with at least a hum of a melody, or a pattern of notes on an instrument, providing them a base to write upon. Phoebe, though, seems to start with words before finding a melody that fits around them. Luckily, this means that her words are never sacrificed.
It also means that there is no obvious structure to most of her songs. Rarely do they lay out to be verse / chorus / verse / chorus / bridge. This is yet another sign that her words come first and the music is built around them.
Due to Phoebe’s personality (naturally) seeping into what she writes, this lack of surrendering lines often leads to a blend of humor and deep despair, a rare combination in an art form that tends to be either entirely serious or entirely humorous. She adeptly navigates this space, where humor and profound emotions coexist. It is hard to even narrow down these elements to a few songs, because they are incredibly prevalent in most. Press shuffle. You’ll see.
Forcibly Patient
Alas, I have come to the conclusion of my unplanned rambling. I am sure she will come back into my life eventually, and that’s all that really matters. However, her personal discography proves quite timeless as these years continue to pass. Perhaps this is because she takes her time in between projects, waiting to soak up life as it happens to her, rather than ravenously hoping for experience to turn into art. She seems the type.
Unsure of how to end this rant, I will leave you with a link to my comprehensive playlist of Phoebe. Thank me later.