It opens up the lines to multiple simultaneous interpretations. That is not a negative critique but quite the contrary. But nothing in Dacus’ tone would suggest that one should laugh, and the listener is left in a bizarre suspense of mild disturbance. Lines like this, or “Thumbs” Bladerunner-like “I imagine my thumbs on the irises pressing in / Until they burst” are so stark and deadpan, they near comedic. In a manner characteristic to the album, Dacus mixes emotive and careful songwriting with blunt lyricism: “But if you get married / I’d object / Throw my shoe at the altar and lose your respect.” The sound is gentle, the kind that makes you space out in the recesses of your mind for a moment.īut that’s not the response Dacus seems to be looking for here. “Christine,” for example (what’s an indie album without a name track?) is backed by a walking piano line and eventually some light acoustic guitar. The noise is still around, as tracks like “First Time” and “Brando” demonstrate, but the focus has very subtly shifted toward the softer moments – and to great success. And with her latest album, she pushes that skill a little bit further, toying with preconceptions about her songwriting on every track.īroadly speaking, “Home Video” is a softer take than Dacus’ brand of absolutely kick-ass rock. Since then, Dacus’ discography has shown her striking talent for manipulating sound. The first time I heard Lucy Dacus was on “Night Shift,” the standout track from her critically beloved 2018 album “Historian.” It is a vibrant example of linear construction, the song building from soft guitar and vocals to headbanging passion and some seriously impressive singing.
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