A long and hectic, albeit fruitful, year is just getting going for 22-year-old Lucy Dacus, following the March 2nd release of what is decidedly her breakthrough LP, Historian, on Matador Records. Where her first LP, No Burden showcased her talent for embedding meditative lyrics inside approachable rock songs, Historian is a major artistic stride.
If you’ve ever picked a scab and felt pacified watching the slow bleeding, you’ll know the strange satisfaction of revisiting wounds that won’t heal. I began listening to Lucy Dacus’ Historian while mourning a relationship that was long dead. Its painful dissolution symbolized something more difficult: a loss of youthful idealism, a growing weariness with the world around me. The 22-year-old Dacus has a knack for distilling feelings that, while universal, feel denser at this age. Her evocative, tightly-wound lines unravel the messiness of human emotion: “I feel no need to forgive, but I might as well / Let me kiss your lips, so I know how it felt,” she sings on “Night Shift,” her sweet voice cleaving cleanly through the complexities she’s laid bare. It’s an album that allows you to surrender to your most vulnerable self, sober and unguarded
