Isn’t it strange to think that one of the most widely anticipated albums of the year is an emotionally devastating singer-songwriter project? Phoebe Bridgers’ ‘Punisher’ has already firmly taken root in the annals of music history as one of the most universally acclaimed records of the decade, making the six year wait for a follow up really quite excruciating— at last, ‘Lost Weekend’ is here to tear your heart into shreds once again. The record certainly has that emotional impact, rough around the edges as it may be.

It’s ironic to say about an album as reserved as this one, but ‘Lost Weekend’ actually sees Bridgers taking some big swings: the project resembles ‘Punisher’ in places, of course, but this is anything but a retread. The singer-songwriter has put together a record in two parts— a parallel with the two principal relationships she’s detailing, perhaps— frequently swapping between detached electronica and intimate folk music. For a figure like Bridgers, who’s brand has always centred around her as a person, to open her latest effort with a song as distant and cold as ‘The Outside’ is a bold move indeed, but ‘Lost Weekend’ is just as revealing as anything she’s put together before. The ambition to represent themes of isolation and adoration with different sound envelopes entirely is nothing if not commendable.

At the same time, though, the feeling that Bridgers may have bitten off more than she could chew is quite inescapable, not least because the album is presented in such messy fashion: the project is more about the journey than the destination, with our leading woman devoting more time to describing her life than she does to finding meaning in it. However intentional the clutter may be, it nonetheless dilutes the record’s core appeal, which comes in its most emotive moments— the basic (and practically unmixed) ‘Never Going Back!’ is, as you might expect, not exactly a highlight. ‘Lost Weekend’ grows to be quite choppy in its second half once the criminally underutilised soundscape of ‘Panorama’ opens the door for ‘Other Plans,’ ‘Lost Parade’ and the album’s closer to all spin their wheels in a sea of atmosphere, leaving the effortless simplicity of her previous work far behind.

As for the more fleshed-out tracks that’ll have you returning to the record, it must be said that, in another moment of irony, the most devastating cuts here are probably those that harken back to the intimacy and the lofi production of ‘Punisher: the gorgeous piano refrains of ‘As Above’ and the twinkling acoustic guitars behind ‘Still Standing,’ namely, are undeniable show-stoppers that see Bridgers firmly in her element. The remainder of these songs lean more into folk music than anything else, a style the singer-songwriter is more than equipped to tackle (though it is also one that sees her blending in with her contemporaries to a certain degree). Though some are stronger than others— ‘Lost Boys’ may be endearing, but it hardly has the nuance to match the Big Thief-esque country of ‘Haunted’— the results tend to win you over.

But anyways, enough of that chit-chat: we all know why we’re here. A great many of the tracks on ‘Lost Weekend’ are somewhat simple on their face, acting more like pieces of a wider puzzle than as ‘songs,’ in the traditional sense— that is to say, the explosion of noise that caps off ‘Kill Me’ may be striking, but it’s Phoebe Bridgers’ lyricism that’s truly earned her her keep. This time around, it’s a story of duality, with the singer-songwriter examining two key relationships in her life from every angle. If you’re looking to reach for the tissues, you’ll want to tune into a cut like ‘Still Standing,’ which offers up a devastating insight into the strained relationship the woman had with the father, and the grief she’s dealing with after his passing. Both the charm and the messiness of ‘Lost Weekend’ stem from how it throws desolation up against themes of newfound love, as detailed on ‘Bobby.’

Bridgers is quite a literal lyricist— dare we say she’s not unlike Taylor Swift in that regard— and you’ll find a host of direct and cutting semantic portraits to sift through here: ‘Panorama’ is like a microcosm of her approach, taking just five lines to describe one very specific moment in time, but even the headier moments across the album are steeped in personal experience. Obvious as the metaphor on ‘The Outside’ may be, it’s nonetheless a powerful statement of detachment that runs throughout the entire project— honestly, it’s just a shame that the singer-songwriter always leaves you to come to your own conclusions from her tales, rather than offering up much food-for-thought herself. Really though, who are we to argue with the substance of ‘Haunted’ or ‘The Governor’s Waltz,’ both of which are absolutely drenched in heart and emotion.

The key appeal of ‘Lost Weekend’ should be obvious going in: it’s definitely a project that takes a toll on you, vulnerable and honest as it is. Bridgers is trying her hand at a plethora of new sounds and ideas here, and the final product is rather unsteady because of it— it lacks the razor-sharp precision of her last album, no doubt, but retains the singer-songwriter’s death grip on your tear ducts anyway. ‘Lost Weekend’ is almost unsure of itself, and maybe that’s the idea: regardless of whatever else you can say about it, it’ll make you feel something.