Lucy Dacus wants us to think differently about relationships. “I want there to be different conversations about love than the ones that are happening,” she told The New Yorkerin a recent profile, one in which she finally confirmed that she was in love herself, with boygenius bandmate Julien Baker. “I worry that when I talk about this I get really abstract or rote—that it’s impossible to talk about because it’s been made into a corny, commodified thing,” she continued. It’s a nice sentiment, one made more profound by the fact that, as a lyricist, Dacus has always been able to take the abstract and render it with profound, near-heartbreaking clarity. Very few artists are as equipped to mold the fresh line of dialogue Dacus seeks as she is herself. It’s odd, then, that Forever Is A Feeling feels so much like a conversation that’s already been had.
As anyone familiar with Dacus will know, the Virginia-born singer-songwriter went stratospheric with boygenius—the supergroup she formed in 2018 with Baker and Phoebe Bridgers—after the release of the band’s first LP, The Record, two years ago. That album went on to earn the group seven Grammy nominations and three wins. Dacus, Baker, and Bridgers are all incredibly skilled musicians in their own right, but together, the trio’s voices intertwine without contest, melding together into something new that still feels authentic to all three. To form that whole, though, each had to sand down their own edges and quirks, presumably keeping them stowed away for future solo work. Boygenius was always supposed to be temporary, anyway.
Still, it’s hard to shake off that kind of success, and Dacus doesn’t seem particularly keen to risk it here. Featuring vocals from both Baker and Bridgers, the album at times reads more like a collection of boygenius B-sides than something that could have only come from Dacus. Take the dreamy “Modigliani,” which sees Bridgers join Dacus over a distinctly Punisher-esque strings arrangement, or the title track, in which she revisits yet another overlong drive, just like that one that gave her and her lover “more time to embarrass ourselves” on The Record‘s “Leonard Cohen.” (Here, the story is “You knew the scenic route / I knew the shortcut and shut my mouth / Isn’t that what love’s about? / Doing whatever to draw it out.”)
That’s not to say that Forever Is A Feeling isn’t a lovely listen in its own right—it just never quite reaches the heights of Dacus’ past, thornier works. Of course, part of that is simply the fact that this record is far more concerned with bliss than it is with pain, as some of her past releases have been. That’s not an issue in itself; Dacus doesn’t owe anyone any sort of confession, especially as increased public attention has made her more intent to “protect what is precious in my life, but also to be honest, and make art that’s true,” as she also told The New Yorker.
Still, Dacus’ joy is painted in surprisingly muted tones, as in mid-tempo ballads like “Big Deal” and “Come Out,” and the album’s oddly lackluster Hozier collaboration, “Bullseye.” Dacus clearly doesn’t want to rush her way through forever, but there’s a thin line between dreaming and falling asleep. While the record clearly aspires toward the former, it often lands on the lesser side of that divide. There are a few classic, splash-of-cold-water-to-the-face Dacus-isms here, like “but I still miss you when I’m with you / ‘Cause I know we’re not playing for keeps” at the end of “For Keeps” and “nothing lasts forever but let’s see how far we get / So when it comes my time to lose you / I’ll have made the most of it” in the album’s closing song, “Lost Time.” They’re just too few and far between, diluted with an uncharacteristic dip into overdone cliché (i.e. “You make me homesick for places I’ve never been before” from “Modigliani”). One can’t help but miss the exhilarating edges of Historian tracks like “Night Shift” and “Yours & Mine” or the startling intimacy of Home Video‘s “Christine” or “Thumbs.”
Still, there are a number of moments on Forever Is A Feeling one might wish could go on for longer. Hazy standout track “Limerence” sees Dacus in a welcome lyrical comfort zone as she tenderly paints a weed-and-Grand Theft Auto-filled afternoon with friends over a string-heavy arrangement that recalls fellow Los Angeles-based artist Father John Misty. It’s a more theatrical style than we’ve previously heard from Dacus, and it really serves the richness of her voice here. On the flip side, the Blake Mills-produced “For Keeps,” an ode to fleeting romance, strips away the bells and whistles almost entirely, highlighting the artist’s aching vocals over a barely-there acoustic guitar.
Mills (who also has production credits on new albums by Japanese Breakfast and Perfume Genius) was a new collaborator for Dacus on this record, as were Bartees Strange, Andrew Lappin, Melina Duterte (Jay Som), Madison Cunningham, and Chloe Saavedra, all of whom pitched in on the joyful “Best Guess,” a celebration of choosing to love despite life’s uncertainties, made all the sweeter by the knowledge of who specifically Dacus is in love with. While Dacus has been openly queer for years now, “Best Guess”—which also received a music video filled to the brim with “hot mascs“—sees her begin a new conversation for herself by gendering the subject of her storytelling for the first time. (“You may not be an angel / But you are my girl.”) It’s a great example of the kind of jolt-you-awake lyrical touch that Dacus is usually so good at, and it proves that those moments are just as possible through happiness as they have been through heartache. It’s just a shame we don’t get to see Dacus revel in them more on this particular project.
On “Most Wanted Man,” a song she shares with Baker, Dacus sings, “Just like our legs all double knotted / In the morning at the Ritz / $700 room still drinking coffee from the Keurig / We’re soaking up the luxuries on someone else’s dime / Living the dream before we fully pass our prime / And when we do / I’ll have time to write the book on you.” The particular forever of Forever Is A Feeling feels a lot like that lazy, luxurious morning—blissful and sweet, but ultimately ephemeral. The real treat will be whatever comes next, when she’s had some real time to process it all.
