“This is bliss / This is Hell / Forever is a feeling / And I know it well,” sings singer-songwriter Lucy Dacus in the titular track of her fourth solo album, “Forever is a Feeling.” These lines depict the central juxtaposition of the record which grapples with the ephemerality of love. Dacus knows “forever” is impossible, but she wants it all the same.
“Forever is a Feeling” comes in the wake of Dacus’ success in the three-time Grammy Award winning indie-rock supergroup boygenius, alongside Phoebe Bridgers and Julien Baker. Since the band announced their “indefinite hiatus” in early 2024, fans have been anxiously awaiting new music from Baker, Bridgers and Dacus. This anticipation brings the added pressure of a brighter spotlight. It also poses the question of how the band members’ solo careers will compare to the collaborative success of boygenius. This record is Dacus’ opportunity to reassert herself and her music as an individual artist.
“Falling in love, falling out of love,” said Dacus in an album press release. “You have to destroy things in order to create things.” The tracklist of “Forever is a Feeling” reflects this arc, creating a sense of fantasy around the love stories of the earlier songs only to destroy it by the end of the record. These love songs weave a narrative of acceptance of human limitations and our powerlessness in the face of change.
The first two tracks after the instrumental prelude, “Big Deal” and “Ankles,” build the foundation of this false ideal of eternal love. “Big Deal” tells the story of a doomed relationship, focusing on things that didn’t happen and weren’t said. It fills in these empty spaces with fantasy. “So what changes, if anything?/ Maybe everything can stay the same,” sings Dacus to her former paramour as the groove of the song’s guitar strengthens throughout the chorus, emphasizing her belief in forever, or at least her desire for it.
Similarly, “Ankles,” which is the album’s first single, blurs desire and reality, as Dacus depicts the line she wants to cross in a friendship. This song is equal parts sweet and sexy. It paints a picture of intimacy that is not often portrayed in pop culture. But is this intimacy real or imagined? It becomes more and more obscure as the song progresses. The sparse, anticipatory instrumentation in verses gives way to a fuller, sparkling production in chorus, in which Dacus implores, “Pull me by the ankles to the edge of the bed / And take me like you do in your dreams.” The ambiguity surrounding the realization of these dreams furthers the sense of fantasy, drawing the listener into a manufactured world of imagined experience.
The destruction of this fantasy occurs in the second half of the album. It is best illustrated by “Best Guess,” an honest and vulnerable love song that was the third released single. The track’s roots in reality make it a turning point in the record. “Best Guess” hones in on the mundane aspects of being in a relationship. She’s not trying to mold her partner into an ideal. Rather, she’s pointing out the immense beauty in the everyday acts of clasping her lover’s necklace or zipping her dress. To me, this is a perfect love song because it doesn’t rely on lofty metaphors or hyperbole; it paints this relationship with the colors of human fallibility that so many writers and poets have left out of their odes. “You are my best guess at the future / You are my best guess / If I were a gambling man, I am / You’d be my best bet,” she sings in the chorus. In this song Dacus undermines the illusion of forever, replacing it with a mature sense of self-security that makes her choice to love in the face of uncertainty even more romantic.
The arc of accepting love’s transience shines through in “Forever is a Feeling,” creating a cohesive listening experience. However, for all the complex, existential and emotional themes that the lyrics so astutely tackle, there is a bit of a sonic lack. Alongside her meticulous lyricism, Dacus has been known for the dynamism of her songs. Her ability to shift from a whispered verse to a swelling rock bridge within a three-minute track is what initially drew me to her music. Her 2018 song “Night Shift” is by far her most popular because it utilizes this melodic and instrumental range to back the viscerality of her lyrics, doubling down on intensity as she belts, “You’ve got a nine-to-five, so I’ll take the night shift / And I’ll never see you again if I can help it.” Those lines reverberate through my bones. I missed that in “Forever is a Feeling.”
This is an album that digs deep into the complexities of love, but it feels like falling in right before the crash — an anticipatory journey without satisfactory payoff. It doesn’t quite hit the bottom of the emotional well in its production and instrumentation, with some exceptions. “Talk” has the most build. Distorted production overtakes lyrical intelligibility at the climax of the chorus: “Why can’t we talk anymore?” But that’s the point — Dacus recreates the rift in communication between her and her ex with the listener. It’s peak sonic storytelling, and I wanted more.
Rating: ★★★1/2
