Phoebe Bridgers—Killer
Killer is a brilliant, bite-sized piece of no-frills folk music. With a instrument list that begins and ends with voice and guitar (with blink-and-you’ll-miss-it appearances from pedal steel and banjo), it would be easy to assume this EP to be a sparse one. It would also be incorrect. Bridgers fills the record’s soundstage with her warm, inviting guitar work and stellar voice, never allowing the cavernous reverb to overpower her. Much of the richness is owed also to the clever orchestration of the limited forces. She keeps the guitar, for the most part, in its higher, treble-heavy registers. The resulting brightness acts as a foil for the darkness of Bridgers’ tone in her lower melodies and compliments her brilliance as she reaches into higher passages. Bridgers herself hits the vocal sweet spot. It’s a beautiful instrument that she manages to stonewash with just the right amount of grit, especially when her lyrics call for that little bit of dirt.
Each of the three songs — economically titled “Killer,” “Georgia,” and “Steamroller” — possess strong ties to the folk and singer/songwriter traditions. Bridgers’ impeccable performance, nuanced lyrics, and slight deviations from the norm make sure she’s always on the right side of the razor thin line between tried-and-true and tired. I’ll highlight “Steamroller” in particular, if only because it begins as one kind of song then effortlessly pivots its tone and tenor to a completely new place. It begins as a moribund lament: “[sadness] hits me like a sickness/Or a steamroller/Makes me want to lay down/And get run over.” The next line, “But then I see you/Always smiling/Makes me want to touch you/Keep from dying” reveals it to be something more akin to a love song. It’s an ode to someone who allows Bridgers to find her way out of those dark moments — a wonderful, unexpected turn from a potentially morose ballad to the lone moment of joy on the EP.
As I listened to Killer I kept wishing there was more of it. Bridgers’ music is not necessarily groundbreaking, but it’s so impressive in its craft and irresistible in its honesty. Each of the three songs is a masterclass in folk songwriting with the emotional weight behind it to move beyond mere exercise. They remind me of Noah Gundersen, whose stripped down material is equally stunning in its simple perfection. As an EP, Killer does its job perfectly; it’s a musical amuse bouchedesigned to excite listeners in the spaces between LP releases — or, in this case, before a debut album. I’ll conclude by saying this: if your only complaint about a record is that there isn’t more of it, you’ve probably got something pretty special on your hands.
I hope we’ll get to hear more from Phoebe Bridgers sooner rather than later.
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