A lost weekend is time you can't account for: you come out of it changed, unsure quite how. Phoebe Bridgers, it seems, has been living inside one. Six years after Punisher, she returns not with interviews but phone-free pop-up shows for $20, and an album that drifts further out than anything she's done before: sixteen songs about losing her father, ending a relationship and falling headlong in love.
It’s easy to miss what an interesting artist Carly Simon is. I’ve certainly been guilty of it; bar a few undeniable gems, it felt like her oeuvre was based in a 1970s white rock music retreat from the innovations of the previous decade – a footnote to The Eagles, Fleetwood Mac and Elton John’s mega-big building of a new conventionality.
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