Lucy Dacus’ ‘Night Shift’ successfully shifts to softer, more engaging moments
The first time I heard Lucy Dacus was on “Night Shift,” the standout track from her critically beloved 2018 album “Historian.” It is a vibrant example of linear construction, the song building from soft guitar and vocals to headbanging passion and some seriously impressive singing.
Since then, Dacus’ discography has shown her striking talent for manipulating sound. And with her latest album, she pushes that skill a little bit further, toying with preconceptions about her songwriting on every track.
Broadly speaking, “Home Video” is a softer take than Dacus’ brand of absolutely kick-ass rock. The noise is still around, as tracks like “First Time” and “Brando” demonstrate, but the focus has very subtly shifted toward the softer moments – and to great success.
“Christine,” for example (what’s an indie album without a name track?) is backed by a walking piano line and eventually some light acoustic guitar. The sound is gentle, the kind that makes you space out in the recesses of your mind for a moment.
But that’s not the response Dacus seems to be looking for here. In a manner characteristic to the album, Dacus mixes emotive and careful songwriting with blunt lyricism: “But if you get married / I’d object / Throw my shoe at the altar and lose your respect.”
Lines like this, or “Thumbs” Bladerunner-like “I imagine my thumbs on the irises pressing in / Until they burst” are so stark and deadpan, they near comedic. But nothing in Dacus’ tone would suggest that one should laugh, and the listener is left in a bizarre suspense of mild disturbance.
That is not a negative critique but quite the contrary. It opens up the lines to multiple simultaneous interpretations. Is it good that the speaker in “Christine” would throw a shoe at the wedding? Are we to believe that she would at all? Similar questions could be asked of “Thumbs” and many other lines on the album.
Sonically, Dacus branches out with “Home Video.” From catchy rocking opener “Hot and Heavy” to the polyphonic “VBS” and the autotuned “Partner in Crime,” the album has a lot of range to keep one entertained. But its strongest feature is the storytelling.
By and large, the songs are driven by personal narrative and tell stories about coming of age, whether the narrator’s or those around them. And as much as Dacus is equipped to write a hard-hitting Swift-ean love song, she refuses to, emphasizing even in the most positively described relationships the ways in which they are problematic.
It is this tension that drives the album’s construction: the image of each song is in constant flux. From line to line or verse to verse, Dacus changes and nuances the song’s meanings. Where 2018’s “Night Shift” was a stunningly clear linear construction, lyrically and sonically, the songs from “Home Video” are much more engaging.
“Please Stay” exemplifies this perfectly. It opens on a series of domestic statements: “Your clothes in the dryer / your hair on the shower wall,” and many more. Then the verse ends: “Please don’t make me see these things.”
The relationship in the song is nuanced and complex; the word “love” is used, but so is the indicative “call me if you need a friend / or never talk to me again.” It seems confused about all but one thing: the plea to “please stay.”
And it leaves one feeling a little indeterminate, asking “please stay,” but then what? What now? What next? Dacus doesn’t say. Some music gives a pervasive sense of clarity. Maybe it describes something in a way that makes that thing make sense. Other music asks you questions or makes you ask them of yourself.
But Dacus’ “Home Video” just feels different, like it’s telling you something a little bit secret, something it isn’t even sure about because there can be no certainty on the matter. Driven by its soft touch, moments of amplified emotion and deftly delivered lyrics, “Home Video” is an album that needs a listen.
Julien A. Luebbers can be reached at julien.luebbers@gmail.com.