This Los Angeles-based singer/songwriter dropped Stranger in the Alps last month to huge acclaim. Seemingly out of nowhere, her previous track record featured only one single, 'Killer', which was for all intents and purposes a demo of just her and a guitar recorded by Ryan Adams. With a lot of faith from people around her she set about recording Stranger… with a full compliment of musicians and production team, even though she had no record deal. That faith paid off quickly, with respected alt-indie American label Dead Oceans signing her and releasing the album with no material changes.

With a cute website address phoebefuckingbridgers.com and tweets including – the last time I looked – 'I can't feel my life', it's easy to paint a picture of a self-deprecating woman. Indeed, there is a dark and worrisome undercurrent to Ms Bridgers, one that she is not afraid to lay bare for all to hear. Death, depression, low libido, remorse, unhappy relationships, and an overarching melancholic hue imbue her music. However the beauty of that is she never wallows in it. At least not publicly. There is a redemptive quality to what she does, a subconscious recognition that we must soldier on, and fight the good battle, which she does through good old fashioned (black) humour and light-heartedness. Overall Bridgers speaks deep from her heart, to tell a perceived truth that most would simply not have the confidence to do so, in public. Moreover, she thinks this is quite natural, and finds it odd that other artists cannot do the same.

Hence why she has the ability to get things done, to find inspiration in these dark and sad thoughts. To record an outstanding album (she obviously believes in her abilities) and to get up on stage, which she is now required to do more regularly than ever before, and often in places she has never set foot in. Such as Brighton. This is her first visit, and once again a visiting artist seems to be in surprised awe at how luscious it is here (we couldn't agree more), although performing in the Unitarian Church may not give her the best view of the city.

Still, the church feeds her on-stage banter which almost invariably centres around death, sex and anger. "I'm surprised they let us in here," she dryly remarks, before embarking on the song 'Demi Moore', which begins with the words,"Take a dirty picture, babe". As well as some previously unrecorded songs, she performs 'Chelsea', the only song that is not autobiographical on Stranger… and which records her thoughts on Sid Vicious. "What a dick", she remarks about Sid, a man she obviously despises, for murdering his girlfriend. "More light-hearted material" she also remarks, while dressed largely in black, including shiny back DMs, a long lacey dress with hood, and holding a black and glittery electric guitar. This emo-goth look is appropriate; for herself, for the church, and for the looming Halloween. And for when she sang the desperately sad 'Funeral', on finger picked acoustic, to a rapt full house, none of whom (I would guess) had ever seen her live before.

With just her friend Harrison Whitford accompanying her, also on electric guitar, the sound is very different from the full and clear production of the album. The guitars are a little distorted, the clear tones of her recorded voice lost somewhat in the high ceilinged venue. But she strikes a remarkably confident and poised figure on stage. Her talent as a songwriter is there for all to see, as can be heard on the storytelling vibe of show closer 'Emotional Sickness'. Perhaps the success of the album over here caught her team by surprise, and next time we may get the full band version of Phoebe Bridgers.

Jeff Hemmings

Website: phoebefuckingbridgers.com
Facebook: facebook.com/phoebebridgers
Twitter: twitter.com/phoebe_bridgers
 

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