If they gave out awards for Most Brutally Honest Album of the Year, Lucy Dacus‘ Home Video would certainly win it in 2021.
The singer-songwriter’s new record is a deep dive into her upbringing, teen years, and even recent years. It’s a record about self-exploration, finding and losing love and friends, and always moving forward despite the past trying to put on the brakes.
“Hot & Heavy” opens with bold guitars and bolder lyrics by Dacus about fiery passion that fades but is never forgotten. “Christine” tells a story about Dacus and a dear friend riding along one night in the back of her friend’s boyfriend’s car…and Dacus knowing her friend is stuck in a relationship that will do nothing but hold back her friend from her true potential (“If you get married, I’ll just throw my shoe at the altar and lose your respect. I’d rather lose my dignity than lose you to someone who won’t make you happy.”).
“First Time” hides a tale of new love and new sex under its rock drums and guitar strums. “In the summer of ’07, I was sure I’d go to heaven,” Dacus sings in the beginning of “VBS” (Vacation Bible School), a song about teenage sexual and spiritual confusion that erupts into buzz saw guitar at one point. “Cartwheel” starts with the sound of a record or tape starting up from a dead stop and quickly becomes an acoustic ballad for someone who chose another over her.
As if the album wasn’t heartbreaking enough, “Thumbs” is a song about Dacus fantasizing and offering about killing her friend’s long-absent father when he comes to town for a visit and pretends nothing is wrong. “Going Going Gone” is another song about walking away from a relationship she knows with yield no further results.
Dacus’ use of Autotune on “Partner in Crime” is jarring at first, but makes sense when you consider it’s a song about duplicity. “Brando” is a tale of Dacus skipping school with a boy to watch movies, knowing that he’s Mr. Not Quite Right but going along anyway. “Please Stay” is a soft plead for Dacus’ lover not to leave just yet, and how seeing their items around her place is like walking through a museum of heartbreak. The album ends with “Triple Dog Dare,” a song / confession about Dacus exploring her sexuality and being nervous as hell the whole time. It’s a gorgeous coda to the whole record.
I’m tempted to write, “This record is not for the timid.” due to it’s raw honesty, but maybe it is. It’s a record for anyone feeling timid about who they are, who they love, or who they can become.
Keep your mind open.
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[Thanks to Jessica at Pitch Perfect PR.]
