A Lesson in Vulnerability

by rheina camacho ‘25

Sitting under the exposed night sky as the light from the campfire bounces from one face to another. It’s making everyone’s cheeks warm up, but the breeze comes in occasionally, to cool them off. Cicadas are buzzing in the background, trying their best to drown out the gathered voices but everyone averts their attention only when someone starts strumming a guitar. Centuries of music have brought people together, but the folk genre, predating modern documentation of music, acts as the backbone for many musicians to create their own version of togetherness. Folk music differs from one culture to another, but each is tied together through the staple of acoustic instruments and being shared aurally in close communities. The genre has also proved itself to roll with the punches of time and adapt subgenres as musicians continue to experiment.

The indie-folk subgenre is one that has managed to become incredibly popular with its introduction in the ‘90s. Blending the use of acoustic instrumentals and modern sounds, indie-folk music is an exploration in introspection. Laced with uncertainty and hope, the indie-folk genre has allowed not only the musician to communicate their wounds creatively, but also lets listeners learn from them. Expressing vulnerability is like peeling back your skin and revealing the sacred parts that define you. It’s meant for only a few who earned their place but even then, it still carries the terrifying weight of saying too much. This emotional expression is an overarching theme in the indie-folk genre, coming across as teaching a lesson in how to express it. Vulnerability is seen as an objective weakness in society, however, using music as a medium, it is a characteristic of emotional intelligence. Some defining artists in the genre today that teach an aspect of vulnerability in their work include - but are not limited to - Phoebe Bridgers and Leith Ross.

In 2017, Phoebe Bridgers debuted with her album, Stranger in the Alps, produced by Tony Berg and Ethan Gruska. It received an 82 on metacritic, accompanied with reviews from the AV Club’s Josh Modell, who said the album “alchemizes sorrow into redemptive beauty.” PitchFork’s Sam Sodomsky wrote that the album was “a collection of songs about intimacy, documenting how our relationships affect the way we view ourselves and interact with others” When asked about the album title inspiration in an interview with Kyle Meredith for Louisville Public Media, Bridgers said it was a reference to an edited line from The Big Lebowski: “Do you see what happens when you find a stranger in the Alps?” She thought the line was “kind of poetic on accident,” which is all around the perfect summary of this album. Phoebe Bridgers has a raw approach to her writing in which she doesn’t shy away from bluntness but manages to naturally embed a poetic element to her lyrics. She teaches a sense of honesty when it comes to vulnerability.

The song, “Motion Sickness,” starts with the simple lyrics, “I hate you for what you did and I miss you like a little kid,” with Bridgers expressing her hatred towards someone, but admitting the innocence of wishing they were still around. In indie folk music, the expression of vulnerability usually comes in the form of admitting emotional truths no matter how heavy. It becomes a safe space to open yourself up because of the mood that exudes with the instrumentals of folk music. The main premise of the song is struggling with an emotionally turbulent relationship, while musically, its modern sound stands out from the rest of the album, as it experiments with upbeat melodies. This differs from the rest of the album, which relies on one or two acoustic instruments that highlight Bridgers’ melancholy voice. The next song in the album, “Funeral,” dives deeper in admitting emotional truths through the lens of mental health.

Bridgers tells the story of how she is embarrassed of her depression. It opens with her thinking forward to the next day, where she will have to sing at a kid’s funeral who is a year older and realizing how much it is affecting her. She admits, “I’ve been talking to his dad, it makes me so sad. When I think too much about it, I can’t breathe.” Then, she goes over her recurrent feelings as someone who is exhausted with their depression, “Jesus Christ, I’m so blue all the time. And that’s just how I feel, always have and always will,” which continues to carry on the bluntness of her writing. You don’t connect the boy’s funeral imagery to her depression seamlessly until the line, “Last night I blacked out in my car and woke up in my childhood bed. Wishin’ I was someone else, feeling sorry for myself when I remembered someone’s kid is dead.” Bridgers is being transparent about her experience with depression while at the same time punishing herself for not having a reason, like grief, that makes her feel this way. Her introspection serves a purpose of trying to relate to another struggling person when it comes to mental health. This song could be considered one of her most brutally honest songs but in truth, honesty threads through her whole discography.

From an outside perspective of Phoebe Bridgers’ writing, she uses detailed imagery and isn’t afraid to share her thoughts about herself and her relationships. However, in an interview with Matt Berninger with The Creative Independent, she explains the misconception with her writing style: “I feel like people think I write poetry, but I actually write literally exactly what’s happening in a way that sounds poetic.” She has stated how freeing it is to go through her writing process because, “the more honest I am, the world just keeps opening up for me,” she said in an interview with Annabel Gutterman for Time Magazine. This is a large reason fans have clung to her lyrics like bible verses since she debuted. Being honest with oneself is a vulnerable task, which fans have admired her for and can learn from. Especially with teens making the majority of her fanbase, her songs have become the indiefolk anthem of the coming-of-age experience.

Looking at an up-and-coming artist in the indie-folk genre, Leith Ross released their debut album, To Learn,earlier this year. It was produced by Joey Landreth and Leith themself. They already gained popularity for their song, “We’ll Never Have Sex,” through TikTok in August of 2021, which later became a single for this album. Ross describes their music as “gutwrenching,” containing, “extreme existentialism,” while still bringing a cheesy tone about queer love. The general idea of being vulnerable when it comes to love threads throughout To Learn, using intimate songwriting and simple instrumentation to create a dreamy atmosphere.

The opening track, “5am,” feels like the opening to a coming-of-age movie with a light piano prelude. Ross starts off by listing specific places, “5am in a city I don’t know. Wet hair from swimming in normal clothes, Lying down in the middle of childhood streets. Not quite recalling falling asleep,” then seamlessly ties them together with the repetition of the line, “But you like how it feels. You like how it feels.” Leith Ross brings life into seemingly mundane ideas or things and describes them with admiring love that listeners can’t help but feel the same towards. They manage to create a nostalgic atmosphere for the love you have yet to experience.

Leith Ross also focuses on the many facets of interpersonal relationships, both good and bad. Looking at the single for the album, “We’ll Never Have Sex,” it is a comforting song about appreciating the simple things in intimacy. Ross begins with, “Depollute be, pretty baby. Suck the rot right out of my bloodstream,” which paints the imagery of Ross seeing this person as a savior figure. They go on to say, “Oh, you kissed me just to kiss me not to make me cry. It was simple, you are sweetness, let’s just sit awhile.” The comforting mood of the song is highlighted with the simple riff playing in the background. Possibly through their previous experiences with romantic love, Ross is surprised that two people could still share deep intimacy with each other without having sex, disproving a popular cultural belief. Ross is sharing their experience with love and the many different intimacies that it holds, but in other songs, they admit the grayer side to being vulnerable in love. In their song, “Orlando,” Ross describes their internal struggle with a one-sided relationship. They begin the song with, “Your voice puts sickness into my gut, and I swallowed just a little too much. I don’t know what I did wrong. It’s not your fault, I just think I was in love.” In contrast to “We’ll Never Have Sex,” the grown love that Ross has developed for this person has no intimacy coming their way, which causes them pain every time they see or talk to this person. This duality of being vulnerable in love serves as a lesson to listeners to tread lightly on opening yourself to love.

Leith Ross’s writing is intimate in its descriptions as seen with their song, “Orlando.” Part of this comes from the intimate atmosphere they are trying to create. Touching on their writing process in an interview with Dazed, Leith Ross says that they are inspired by predominantly romantic love but admits, “now I feel like it’s becoming even more intense as I get older and explore my queerness.” Specifically, they go on to say in an interview with Natty Kasambala, “It’s been just a huge well of inspiration for writing and trying to express what love is beginning to mean to me in a less romantic way and in a more personhood kind of way.” Ross’s questions about the world when it comes to types of love and putting their own interpretation on the concept, represent the main idea of To Learn. Similar to Phoebe Bridgers, Leith Ross utilizes their honesty in an intricate way to teach a lesson. Vulnerability is not the only overarching theme running through the indie-folk subgenre. It’s extremely expansive in many aspects, but it never fails to explore how we interact with each other and ourselves through introspection.