More so than on Stranger in the Alps, a record on which the electric crunch of ‘Motion Sickness’ was the outlier and that was largely characterised by acoustic guitar and tastefully restrained strings, it feels much more as if the medium is the message here. It’s the obvious place to start with Punisher because it involves, if not a wholesale reinvention of the palette, a careful augmentation of it. There’s Bridgers the deliciously wry Twitter shitposter, who increasingly is beginning to sound more like dril than dril (exhibit A, May 1st: “one time my ex challenged my other ex to a fight in the 7-eleven parking lot and I never felt more like a Lady”).Īnd then, there’s Bridgers the musician, often overlooked in discussion of her work, as if somehow the lyrics and their wider meaning have thus far transcended their delivery systems. There’s the Bridgers who’d already proved, in 2018, that she plays well with others with the Boygenius EP. There’s the Bridgers that matched Conor Oberst blow-for-blow on last year’s Better Oblivion Community Center record, which was better than those kinds of crossovers ever tend to be. In 2020, there are myriad versions of Bridgers. Recent collaborations with The 1975 surprised nobody Matty Healy shares her ability to cut to the core of the millennial condition. This is why, as she releases Punisher, she’s no longer an unknown quantity but, rather, one of her generation’s most prominent solo artists. For those born in the 1990s or later, there’s something deeply relatable in the chronic thrum of nagging, low-level depression that runs through her work, as well as in the softly cynical gallows wit that she’s so adept at countering it with. In the process, Bridgers struck a chord, particularly with the cross-section of her audience her own age. Here was a new voice finding the poetic in the conversational, approaching storytelling like a particularly wily boxer, reeling in the listener with the seemingly mundane and then landing gut-wrenching haymakers (see “I buried a hatchet, it’s coming up lavender” from ‘Smoke Signals’ or “Jesus Christ, I’m so blue all the time” from ‘Funeral’). Even allowing for the buzz that her Killer EP had generated, she drew Alps on a blank slate, with a precocious emotional literacy that spoke for itself. The 23-year-old who put out Stranger in the Alps in 2017 did so with the benefit of relative anonymity. Writer(s): Phoebe Bridgers, Marshall VoreLyrics powered by years ago, there was only one Phoebe Bridgers. I hate you for what you did And I miss you like a little kid I faked it every time, but that′s alright I can hardly feel anything, I hardly feel anything at all You gave me fifteen hundred to see your hypnotherapist I only went one time, you let it slide Fell on hard times a year ago Was hoping you would let it go and you did I have emotional motion sickness Somebody roll the windows down There are no words in the English language I could scream to drown you out I'm on the outside lookin′ through You're throwin' rocks around your room And while you′re bleeding on your back in the glass I′ll be glad that I made it out And sorry that it all went down like it did I have emotional motion sickness Somebody roll the windows down There are no words in the English language I could scream to drown you out Hey, why do you sing with an English accent? I guess it's too late to change it now You know I′m never gonna let you have it But I will try to drown you out You said when you met me you were bored You said when you met me you were bored And you, you were in a band when I was born I have emotional motion sickness I try to stay clean and live without And I want to know what would happen If I surrender to the sound Surrender to the sound
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