The Legend of boygenius Evolves on the record
In a surprise to no one, good things happen when three generational talents join forces to make an indie-rock album.
Photo by Shervin Lainez
When it comes to follow-ups, the pressure is always on. Ask any director, showrunner or band whose debut was a hit.
The first EP from boygenius—the supergroup composed of three of the greatest millennial rock singers: Julien Baker, Phoebe Bridgers and Lucy Dacus—was written, recorded and released all in 2018. At the time, each artist was sufficiently buzzy, and when they first surprise-mailed press photos to journalists teasing their formation, it felt too good to be true. As both the artists as individuals and their work as a unit have collected more fans, and streams, with every passing year, album No. 2 was almost surely an intimidating prospect.
But boygenius took a slightly different, and perhaps less formidable, route on the follow-up to their self-titled debut: Rather than start with a completely blank page, they formed something of a sequel. the record isn’t just their second (and first full-length) project as a group—it’s directly in conversation with the EP. And it’s a riveting discussion.
The EP felt raw in an almost accidental way, like we were peeking into a quiet evening among friends through a door left ajar. the record travels to a similar space emotionally, but everything about it feels more curated: the tracklist, the sonic mood, and the sharing of the mic (and pen—all three artists are credited as songwriters on every song). Boygenius’ collaboration is harmonious in more ways than one, and the record shows they belong among the ranks of the greatest American supergroups.
The most obvious bridge between the band’s two projects stretches from boygenius standout “Me & My Dog” to the record closer “Letter To An Old Poet.” “Letter” borrows its melody from “Dog” and replies to its lyrics in a most devastating fashion: “I want to be happy, I’m ready to walk into my room without looking for you / I’ll go up the top of our building and remember my dog when I see the full moon.”
This reprise isn’t the only clever choice on the record. Bridgers’ folk roots emerge on the charming banjo ditty “Cool About It,” which encapsulates the lightheaded feeling of a crush, or maybe a friendship between empaths. It rolls right into the best song on the album, “Not Strong Enough,” which epitomizes late-20s neuroses (“I don’t know why I am the way I am”) and tributes The Cure in both style and a “Boys Don’t Cry” shoutout.