Maggie Rogers – Don’t Forget Me

Americana | Indie Pop

87%

 

There’s a fine line between discovery and invention. All these scientific phenomenon and mathematical formulas that form the innate laws of the universe around us – how many of those were meticulously assembled by our greatest minds, and how many were things that had always been there, unseen, until someone called attention to them. I like to think the same grey area, between what is made and what is found, also applies to artistic inspiration. When Paul McCartney wrote ‘Yesterday’, he apparently was convinced that he’d plagiarised someone else’s work. The melody came to him in a dream, and it seemed so warm and familiar that he felt certain he must have heard it somewhere before. Though he’d go on to tinker with the lyrics for a couple of years before it became the beloved song we know today, musically it changed very little from the melody that appeared for him one day out of the ether. 

I’d like to think the best songs are born this way. Some part of them has always been; a whisper on the wind waiting for someone to take notice and whisper back. That the right sequence of notes is built into us without us realising, ready to activate something within like a sleeper agent. Whatever the secret is, Maggie Rogers appears to have stumbled upon it in spades with her third record Don’t Forget Me. Written and recorded sequentially in just five days, there’s an off-the-cuff quality to these tracks that really plays to her strengths as an artist. She has a knack for strong melodies, yet also a tendency to overcomplicate the arrangements and production built atop that sure foundation. She’s always excelled best as a live performer, where it’s just her and the song, and there’s a hint of that found in the free and easy approach employed here. That’s not to say Don’t Forget Me has the same exhilarating whirlwind of energy as her live shows, in fact it’s her most subdued record yet, but it makes up for that with its sheer heart. 

Maggie has described the intended vibe of this new record to be akin to “Sunday afternoons and worn-in denim”, and I think she has nailed her own briefing. It’s an album of simple pleasures, the comfort of your own bed as opposed to a luxury hotel suite. Sure, she’s written bigger flashier tracks, more anthemic and euphoric hooks, but something about these songs just fits. So hearteningly familiar. Songs that slip into your heart and mind with such ease that they must be slotting perfectly into an empty space within you that went unnoticed till now. ‘Drunk’, ‘So Sick Of Dreaming’ and ‘The Kill’ together form the strongest run of three songs that I’ve heard in some time. Drifting from a manic propulsive energy mined from the same vein as ‘Shatter’, to a golden sun-kissed cruise channelling Fleetwood Mac, to a groovy synthed-out wistful wonderland respectively. ‘I Still Do’ and ‘All The Same’ both represent some of Maggie’s finest stripped back balladry, letting a hint of soulfulness shine in her vocals, while the gorgeous title track ends the record with a feeling akin to going home.  

Much as I loved Surrender, the end result wasn’t the album I quietly hoped it would be. Feral Joy is admirable ambition, but I feel like happiness in its purest form feels more at peace. The kind of feeling that everything is how it should be, the vibe that was imprinted into every rise and fall of ‘Love You For A Long Time‘, the standalone single that preceded her last record. As soon as I heard it I wanted more. That warm and breezy contentment suits her down to the ground, and it’s a high I’ve been chasing every since. Sonically it feels right at home on this new record, even if its romanticism feels at odds with the journey through various stages of grief post break-up that Don’t Forget Me takes us on.

But what both share, besides their impeccable sun-drenched Americana making for the perfect road trip soundtrack, is that they both strip away the pop pressures and pretentions to speak from the heart. Maybe that’s the secret, the reason some melodies can feel so familiar; the tune is just a vessel for an artist to pour their heart into, and it is that connection which we feel. All I know for certain is that with every album Maggie Rogers feels a step closer to being her best self. Maybe the perfect Maggie Rogers album is already written somewhere, just waiting for her to pluck more magic out of the ether.