Phoebe Bridgers, Standing Still and Moving Forward

I’ve been chasing something, some sort of feeling, for what seems like forever. I spend hours every evening deciding what should stay and what should go; what I should continue pursuing and what needs letting go – situations, relationships, people, old band T-shirts. Every night for the past week I’ve gone through my wardrobe, deciding whether to keep the T-shirts or throw them away, wondering if my style is changing, or if the heat just has me hating everything I wear.

This stuck sensation destroys a day. It permeates the body in a paralysing way. In between writing a sentence I flip to another tab and scroll, until I catch myself, and attempt to stop the numbing by returning to these words.

I wonder if the answer is to just allow things to be, to stand still for a moment and let life move around me, so I can find some space. Perhaps that’s how the stuck sensation evaporates.

Stillness can be deleting an app, doing something alone and not telling anyone, or listening to one album on repeat. It can be disappearing, into nothing, without a word to a single person, just because you want to. Not easy, but doable.

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There’s a constant rush present throughout life. This need for productivity, for newness, has rendered patience, consideration and longevity distant concepts. Phoebe Bridgers’ new album is her first in 6 years – a marathon, not a sprint, and an absolute masterpiece.

Amongst the loss, sadness, heartbreak, disconnect, isolation and disassociation on Lost Weekend there is an underlying ever present acceptance of what has been – amongst the grief it’s an ode to recovery, self-love and patience.

‘Bobby’ is a pulsating reminder of when life treats you to something good, when a relationship feels so perfect it’s overwhelming. Within despair, happiness emerges. It’s the relief when the rain appears, releasing tension in the sky. ‘Haunted’ is a detox, it floods everything out in a defiant declaration of self-love, determination and progress. A ghostly wind flies through my body and something shifts.

I hear the call back to ‘Graceland Too’ on ‘Liberty Bell’ and a tear forms. The sadness in the former is transformed into release and happiness in the latter. Then it’s there again, in ‘Lost Parade’, a triumphant trumpet and a screaming crowd. It’s a relief. It’s altered my brain chemistry. The ghostly wind flies through my body once more.

The last time Phoebe put an album out, 6 years ago, everyone was isolated, confused and numb, wondering whether things would ever be normal again. Distanced from any form of connection, life was left on pause. Lost Weekend demonstrates the pain and beauty that accompanies the presence of being amongst people.

There are spaces left within the album to pause and reflect, to take a deep breath, before being swept up again, emotions swirling, acknowledgement of life worth living even if stranded in a swamp of pain every now and then. A slow day doesn’t have to be a failure, sometimes it can be a lesson. And after suffering you can emerge and find acceptance and grow again. The changes and growth are there for everyone to see; an acknowledgement of a life being lived.

i’m gonna put myself together

you can go or you can stay

i’m gonna put myself together either way

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