By Lily Guthrie
Only Phoebe Bridgers could turn the Oval Office into a trendy, intimate setting for an indie rock show. The 26-year-old Los Angeles native performed her Tiny Desk concert at home for safety purposes on September 10 in front of a presidentially adorned green screen. With her silver hair and gray pantsuit, Bridgers’ three-song set was accompanied by Marshall Vore on drums and backup vocals as well as Harrison Whitford on guitar, both clad in White House security tuxedos, complete with sunglasses.
Eyes cast down, Bridgers sang into her vintage microphone, sneaking little smiles in between her deeply personal lyrics. She started off the show with “Kyoto,” the second single off her latest album Punisher. In the song, she regales the story of her first trip to Japan, detailing the life-changing journey she anticipated having but was too distracted to attain. Despite traveling to this stunning city, the majority of the song’s narrative is based around someone she misses who’s back at home. Bridgers confesses, “I wanted to see the world, then I flew over the ocean, and I changed my mind.” This live rendition grounded the weight of her words, because while she was playful on screen, it was apparent that she was reminiscent of a genuine past love with a complicated history.
Without a live audience, there was no applause to smoothly transition the concert from one song to the next, so Bridgers simply made steady eye contact with her bandmates, nodded on beat, and began strumming “Moon Song.” This track is an account of the heartwrenching, age-old tale of hopelessly waiting for someone to love you back. Bridgers is mesmerized by the allure of an imaginary romance, offering the subject to, “wait for the next time you want me, like a dog with a bird at your door.”
For their final piece, Bridgers and her band played “I Know the End” with the help of bassist Emily Restas, keyboardist Nick White, and violinist Odessa Jorgensen. The plotline is a view of the dystopian world we all might be living in if global politics and culture continue in the direction they’re headed, exemplified by the line, “A slaughterhouse, an outlet mall, slot machines, fear of God.” In the middle of the song, the Oval Office backdrop glitched off, an artistic choice made my Bridgers. This intentional malfunction signified the deterioration of a long-respected façade, that the American people can trust the government to have their best interest in mind, by exposing all of the band’s equipment and the mirage of the green screen. Without a word, the musicians switched instruments, and small video clips of fans listening to the song on their own popped up all around the band. This gave the atmospheric impression of a crowd, especially when everyone screamed in unison with Bridgers.
In this mini-production, Bridgers is not very communicative with her audience, saying nothing more to her viewers than, “Thanks guys. I’m Phoebe. Hope everyone’s enjoying their apocalypse.” Regardless of her slightly awkward nature, Bridgers is invested in the lyrics she wrote, which draws in the listener and keeps them engaged. You can see the memories that inspired her words, in her expression and her body language, and it’s these emotions and connections that make music interesting and worth listening to. Although she wasn’t really in the Tiny Desk studio or the Oval Office, Bridgers put on an authentic performance that proves the possibilities even during a pandemic.
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