'the Record' by Boygenius Is Everything We Dreamed It'd Be
Ahlgrim: It's always a bit perilous when you start to assume an artist can do no wrong.
Thanks to life-changers like "Favor," "Moon Song," and "Thumbs" — stacked atop the six-track miracle that was "Boygenius" — my expectations for Baker, Bridgers, and Dacus were high enough to scrape the clouds by the time "The Record" was announced.
This could have resulted in a pulverizing disappointment. But instead, it brings me wondrous joy to report that my first instinct was spot-on. "The Record" is a no-skips album with near-flawless execution. After just one listen, I was prepared to make it a core tenet of my personality.
The women of boygenius are compulsive lore creators. They recycle themes and melodies from their past works, on top of paying homage to other artworks they love. ("Fucking love a leitmotif," Baker told Rolling Stone.)
Many artists do this, of course. Bridgers' collaborator-slash-pal Taylor Swift just made a whole album about retreading her memories and referencing her own lyrics. But these glimpses of recognition feel even more profound in an album cowritten by a trio of soulmates — one that was largely constructed by each woman saving scraps and halves of songs that she knew her best friends would improve, or at least understand.
"Anti-Curse" was primarily written by Baker, for example, but she made a point to include Bridgers' favorite quote by Joan Didion: "Was anyone ever so young?" For her part, Bridgers convinced Dacus to tweak a lyric in "We're In Love," turning the white carnation on her lapel to pink. The new image is a nod to both Marty Robbins and Elliott Smith, the latter being an artist the bandmates have bonded over.
In this way, listening to "The Record" is a vulnerable experience, almost like watching beloved sitcom characters share secrets and create inside jokes in real time; intimacy is the whole plot. They bring each other levity to balance out the growing pains — which I must say, as a queer twentysomething woman, hits me in a way that feels like magic.
As promised by the opening track, this is music that captures the challenges and rewards of being seen. It's an album about obsession and collection, piecing yourself together using materials that speak to you, and using what you care about to communicate who you are.
Fittingly, that is exactly what boygenius fans are bound to do with this album.
They will display "The Record" proudly on their vinyl shelves, tape concert tickets to their walls, and tattoo lyrics on their arms. Much like the songs themselves, these will change and warp over time, sinking deeper into the skin, becoming like freckles and birthmarks. They will become the stuff we carry with us forever.
Larocca: I was talking about the meaning of life with a close friend recently, and I said it's all about human connection. She told her mom this, and her mom said, no, that's the meaning of life — having someone who you can talk about what it all means with.
That's what "The Record" is about, too. It's diving into the deep end of your psyche with your best friends, trying to make sense of everything with them, knowing it'll mean they'll then be able to make complete sense of you, for better or for worse.
You might be like Bridgers and come to the realization that you might like your friends less because they know you so well, or maybe you'll take Dacus' approach, leaning into how good it feels when you can't hide from someone else the way you hide from yourself. Possibly, you'll react like Baker, needing time to process the more sentimental and saccharine expressions of platonic love. (As she said in notes about the album, "it's still a learning process to know the difference between being scrutinized and being seen.")
But however it makes you feel, it's evident that the whole of boygenius is greater than the sum of its three members. Each boy fills in what the other needs, which can range from the concept of happiness to just more sick riffs. Collectively, "The Record" is one big conversation between its members, without anyone needing to be correct; as Dacus says on "True Blue," they're not keeping score.
At 42 minutes and 18 seconds, "The Record" is almost as long as the detour Bridgers accidentally added to a drive after transporting her bandmates nine minutes down the interstate in the wrong direction.
In Elif Batuman's synopsis for the album, she asks, "What happens when you see an hour-long detour, not as a detour, but as part of the trip-the part where you listened to 'Trapeze Swinger' while driving the opposite direction from your destination. Does that become the most valuable hour on the trip? Does time transform into something other than alternating 'valuable' and 'not valuable' hours? What if the right song can dislodge, for its duration, this piece of capitalist furniture?"
Listening to "The Record" is like tacking on that additional leg. In a way, we're all Bridgers not quite reading the room (and definitely not the GPS) in favor of finding understanding and deepening connection. If nothin' matters, then it's a relief that we're not losing time when we're building meaning within ourselves and our friends.
With "The Record," Baker, Bridgers, and Dacus treated themselves to some self-belief. Now they're asking us to believe in them, too. I do.
Worth listening to:
"$20"
"Emily I'm Sorry"
"True Blue"
"Cool About It"
"Not Strong Enough"
"Revolution 0"
"Leonard Cohen"
"Satanist"
"We're in Love"
"Anti-Curse"
"Letter to an Old Poet"
Background music:
N/A
Split decision:
"Without You Without Them"
Press skip:
N/A
*Final album score based on songs per category (1 point for "Worth listening to," .5 for "Background music," .5 for "Split decision," 0 for "Press skip").
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