Lucy Dacus has never had quite the same explosive popularity as some of her peers who deal out similarly emotion-laden, heart-wrenching indie rock ballads (read: Phoebe Bridgers). But Dacus has her own measured approach to songwriting that creates rich lyrical portraits and effortlessly dreamy arrangements that distinguish her from contemporaries. It’s paid off with a gradual but rewarding build to notable success and acclaim. Home Video, her fourth full-length, continues that path with some of her strongest songs to date.

As implied by its title, Home Video finds Dacus recollecting her past in soft-focus narratives generous in detail but unwilling to provide false conclusions. These are still memories that trace the past but, as is so often the case, satisfy with feeling not with knowing. Dacus summarizes well on closer “Triple Dog Dare.” “We’ve still got a lot to figure out / like what was the end of the movie about anyways?”

While less obviously ambitious in sound than some of her previous work, Home Video is exacting and rigorous with its lyrical targets. Dacus writes with an enviable clarity and alacrity. “Going Going Gone” paints a familiar portrait of a young crush “stealing hats and trading jackets / locking lips and braces brackets” before, ten years later, “grabbing asses, spilling beers.” The character on “VBS” (that’s vacation bible school, for those not in the know) hints at a romantic interest conflicted by religion for a campmate who snorts nutmeg, blasts Slayer, and is told “you were born and you are here for a reason” but is “not convinced the reason is a good one.”

Elsewhere, “Thumbs” captures the meeting between a teenager and their long-estranged father—Dacus’ murderous thoughts recall Palehound’s 2019 revenge fantasy track, “Killer.” “Christine” longs to save a friend from a troubled marriage and unhappy future.

Dacus has matured into an intentional writer and subtle sonic adventurer. Most of Home Video’s tracks stick to a gentler palette with synth pads and judicious reverb letting her voice take center stage. Dacus and her collaborators—primarily Jacob Blizard, Jake Finch, and Collin Pastore—still make crafty, if less explicit, production choices throughout. Appearances by boygenius bandmates Phoebe Bridgers and Julien Baker on “Please Stay” and “Going Going Gone” are welcome contributions as well.

“Partner In Crime” manipulates an otherwise relatively simple arrangement with Bon Iver-lite autotune (as similarly practiced by Trace Mountains) and hyper realistic drum processing. A guitar line dripping with saturated fuzz joins and eventually guides the track to a finish. The washed out background and plucked acoustic guitar on “Cartwheel” resemble Sufjan Stevens’ Carrie & Lowell. “VBS” inserts a sudden explosion of fuzz (shortly after the previously mentioned Slayer reference).

One of the album’s finest tracks, “Brando” walks with an understated swagger, like the would-be-lover who tries to equal the cool of Marlon Brando and classic films. The song builds to a jangly pulse that could have been a short-lived alt-pop anthem in other hands. With Dacus at the helm, these songs play a long game. Her lyrics profess toward a short story-like literary ideal and her music shifts with tempered twists and simmering crescendos.

The truth to Dacus’ slower rise may lie in her own understated approach. No audacious aesthetic, viral video, or attention-grabbing social media presence leads here. Like her past work, a restraint and consistency are hallmarks here. Even her vocals stick to a slightly lower range with certain hard to place melodic and rhythmic tendencies making them all sound distinctly Lucy Dacus.

For those listening though—and, at this point, Dacus has the attention of much of the indie rock world—she continues to prove herself one of the more tactful and articulate songwriters of that realm today. Home Video exceeds expectations without demanding to make a scene of it.

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By Cameron Carr