PHOEBE BRIDGERS
On April 9, 2020—the day she announced the then forthcoming release of her sophomore album, Punisher—Phoebe Bridgers took a brave first step into pandemic album promotion. What was originally supposed to be a performance of second single “Kyoto” in front of a live audience for Jimmy Kimmel Live! was now reduced to a solo rendition from the bathtub in her Silver Lake apartment in Los Angeles. Clad in black pajamas covered in moons and stars and pawing at a Suzuki QChord synthesizer, she sings into a bright red children’s microphone that’s crudely taped to a mic stand. It’s a devastating song, full of references to being depressed on tour and anger toward her estranged father, made even more so by the subtle ache in her vocal. “I’m going to kill you,” she sings over crackly drum machine beats, “If you don’t beat me to it.” Though the world is watching her share her most personal pain on national TV, in her apartment she is utterly alone.
Just a few weeks earlier no one—even someone with a gallows sense of humor such as Bridgers—could have imagined that she would be kicking off the promotional cycle for her second album with what she dubbed her “Live from the Lavatory” show. A few years ago, few would have predicted that she would be performing on network TV at all. “It was kind of nice,” she says a few days later, still locked down in her apartment. “It was less nerve-wracking than playing live. I hate late-night TV for that reason, because it’s like ‘Three, two, one—go! And whatever you do is permanent!’ So I got to actually pre-tape it and work it out. It took me fucking forever,” she says, trailing off. “But it was fun.”
Now 25, Bridgers has a way of speaking that is not unlike her songwriting, equal parts self-deprecating and reflective, cautiously pessimistic in her own way. Not even three years have passed since the release of her full-length debut, Stranger in the Alps, but it must seem like a lifetime ago that she was going out on tour as the virtually unknown opening act for Julien Baker. Since then, she’s toured the world, started boygenius with Baker and Lucy Dacus, and released a self-titled 6-song EP. Once that tour was over, she was soon back on the road with Better Oblivion Community Center, a band she started with Conor Oberst that resulted in yet another critically-acclaimed album. Most young songwriters, knowing just how high the stakes can be when making a second album that could kill all of the momentum they’ve been building for the last few years, would pour all of their energy into expanding their territory. Bridgers seems to be just now coming to terms with the fact that she has an audience at all.
“I keep getting this interview question where everyone is like, ‘Weren’t you nervous to put out a second record, because now people are paying attention?’” she says. “And I’m like, ‘I was way more nervous to put out my first record and maybe have to get a job at Starbucks.’ That was the crossroads for me. It was like, ‘Okay, if this doesn’t work out this time, I’ll just have to try again.’ And now I’m like, ‘Alright. People are at least going to hear this,’ which is awesome.”
In terms of pure commercial momentum, few artists have more to lose with the world grinding to a halt than Bridgers. The summer of 2020 was supposed to be her victory lap, the official coronation of one of the 21st century’s most original singer/songwriters. But just like that it was all over. No American tour opening for The 1975, no festival gigs, no never-ending trek around the globe—at least not for the foreseeable future. Instead, the victory lap turned into a series of livestream performances that, in typical Bridgers fashion, were billed as a “world tour” making stops in her kitchen, bathroom, and bed. But, aside from cementing her status as the master of pithy social media posts, all of this unexpected free time has not resulted in a burst of creativity. “It changes day by day. I’ve written one song in seclusion, but then the last week or so I’ve been super depressed and not getting out of bed,” she says with a laugh. “Inside me there
