Interview: Phoebe Bridgers on navigating between humour and tragedy on her debut LP

There’s no getting around it — Phoebe Bridgers writes very sad songs. On her debut LP Stranger in the Alps (Dead Oceans), the 23-year-old singer-songwriter recounts stories of death and depression with a frankness that can often be startling. On “Funeral,” a heartbreaking song about performing at the funeral of a young friend, she lays it right on the line: “Jesus Christ, I’m so blue all the time / And that’s just how I feel / Always have and I always will.”

While that sort of raw emotion makes up the backbone of the record, Bridgers often undercuts that darkness with moments of sly humour that make for a great respite from the often painful subject matter. “Motion Sickness,” the most upbeat song on the album, is a great slice-of-life encapsulation of the awkwardness of a messy relationship, with just the right amount of shade thrown in for good measure: “You said when you met me you were bored / And you, you were in a band when I was born.”

We caught up with Bridgers while in the midst of her first headlining tour to discuss the making of Stranger in the Alps, navigating between humour and tragedy in her song-writing, and how she avoided becoming a “#tumblrsadgirl.” Bridgers performs at Le Belmont (4483 St Laurent Blvd), Tuesday, February 27th with Loïc April at 8:30 pm. Tickets are $15 in advance, available here.

Bad Feeling Mag: How have the crowds been reacting to the darker songs from Stranger in the Alps? Does it just get very quiet?

Phoebe Bridgers: It’s funny, because I can tell that the faster songs like “Motion Sickness” are a little bit of a relief for them to hear so they’re like jumping up and down. And we close with “You Missed My Heart,” which is obviously so slow, and people get like, really, really quiet. And that’s another really fun vibe, but yeah, it’s pretty dynamic as far as the crowd vibe per song. Which is awesome, because it means they’re being attentive.

What does it feel like having an album out that’s so revealing? Do people feel like they know you when they meet you on tour?

[Laughs] Yeah, definitely. Sometimes it’s overwhelming, but mostly it’s awesome. It’s overwhelming when someone tells you something really heavy about themselves, because I never really know how to react, but it’s mostly really interesting. Because I remember that feeling with albums I listened to. Especially with singer-songwriters like Bright Eyes or something, you’re like, “Oh, this is my friend now.” So it’s cool to be on the other end of it.

Stranger in the Alps is such a personal record — were you ever hesitant about sharing these songs with the world?

Maybe the tiniest, tiniest bit, but I feel like what saved me from that is that it’s all my personal experience. The thing that worries me the most is, I don’t know, monetizing mental health shit, or not being responsible when sharing that kind of information, but the thing that saved me I think is that it was all super, super personal and I didn’t tell someone else’s story in a way that I felt was too expository.

Where does that fearlessness come from?

I think it’s what I look for in music. So as soon as I started writing music I think it was kind of what I gravitated towards. But sure, with really close friends I’ll talk about stuff, but I’m not very open about that with a vast majority of people that aren’t my friends, so it’s a weird outlet where I can be comfortable in that way.

Nearly every review of the album mentions that it’s obsessed with death – was that something you consciously wanted to explore?

Yeah, I didn’t think about that until it was done, really. [Laughs] It was just a weird through line that I didn’t even really notice.

Were you surprised when people began picking up on that? Was it a morbid collection of songs in your mind?

I think I was more worried that it was going to be more morbid, because the songs that I wrote late were “Motion Sickness” and “Smoke Signals,” and “Would You Rather,” songs that maybe aren’t as dark as “Killer” or “Chelsea.” I was worried I was going to write this like, drab, drawn-out, fucking yawn of a record, that was super, super about death when I heard the first five songs. And then I was more and more relieved as I started adding more songs to it.

One thing I love about the album is how you can really draw out so much emotion from a quick interaction like bumping into someone on the street — do you file those things away when you’re in those situations?

I think I do. Sometimes I will write certain things down in my like, iPhone notes, but then most of the time for that kind of stuff I will realize that something is going to be like that when I sit when I sit and write a song. So yeah, I guess whether I write it down or it’s in my head, I have a little file of those experiences.

The album is very heavy, but there are some great laugh out loud lines on it as well — was that intentional? Were you trying to diffuse some of the sadness of the songs?

I think I was more self-conscious about it being too funny, because that is my personality and it’s the way I write and I listen to a lot of Mark Kozlek. I listen to a lot of song-writers that break it up with a little bit of honesty, or just straight-up-ness, and when I started writing like that I just wanted to make sure that I wasn’t being like, so self-deprecating that it was annoying, or too like, #tumblrsadgirl shit.

What was the recording process for this album like? Was there a record or a band you held as an inspiration during that process?

Oh, so many. I think that was our saving grace, was that we were inspired by so many records all at one that it doesn’t sound like one thing to me. I ended up working with Tony Berg at his studio because of the [Blake Mills] Break Mirrors record that he produced, which is one of my favourites of all time. I listened to a lot of Beatles, 80’s synth-pop, Kate Bush, we listened to a lot of Neil Young. So we just kind of pulled from all of our music tastes.

How did “Motion Sickness” come about? While you were recording it did you ever think the album could go in a different direction based on the sound of that one song?

Yeah, we thought about it or like three days, because I wrote it as this kind of like, Julien Baker-esue song where it’s quiet and I scream the end chorus and play solo baritone guitar. And I brought it in and thought it sounded awesome, and then Tony like wanted to put bongos and shit on it, and we fought for so long. And then after three days we had come up with something that I don’t think either of us had intended, but we both loved, so it was good! [Laughs]

It’s a well-worn cliché that people say you have your whole life to write your first album and then a year or two for your second — do you think the next record is going to be very different? I’m sure your life now is very different than it was while you were writing the songs for this album.

You know, I don’t think it’ll be different necessarily, I think it’ll have a lot of…it’ll be way different than like, “Chelsea” or “Georgia,” the older songs on the record, but the songs I’m writing now kind of do remind me of you know, “Smoke Signals” and “Demi Moore” and the songs I wrote later. But someone put on Radiohead in the van and then I went on kind of like, a deep Radiohead world with my headphones in. I would love to explore weirder production, because that ended up kind of being one of my favourite parts of the record, that it was something I couldn’t make by myself. So, bringing in other people who have different skill sets into it. It’ll probably be an expansion, but it won’t be like, a complete departure from the first record.

Phoebe Bridgers performs at Le Belmont (4483 St Laurent Blvd), Tuesday, February 27th with Loïc April. 8:30 pm. Tickets are $15 in advance, available here.