Fifteen years ago, the Philadelphia-based singer-songwriter Alex G was uploading albums to Bandcamp. A lot has happened since then. He’s appeared on a Frank Ocean album and worked on film scores. More recently, his songs have gone viral on TikTok and now soundtrack videos from other continents. He’s also the father of a two-year-old son.
Now, Headlights is not only his 10th album, but also his major-label debut.
For the longtime fan, I suspect you already know all of the above. For the newcomers – and fingers crossed that there are many – I hope you can appreciate what it’s been like to see this artist grow while keeping his creative spirit intact. Headlights solidifies Alex G’s gift for tapping into the familiarity across our individual experiences. His melodies are oftentimes warm and inviting while also imbued with quirky flourishes that evoke a potent nostalgia. His lyrics bring to life scenes that are specific, relatable, and very often painful. On previous efforts, he’s reminded us what it’s like to laugh at our mothers when we shouldn’t have. He’s also written tributes that anyone who’s experienced the devastation of an untimely death can relate to.
Alex G opens Headlights innocently enough; on “June Guitar” gentle strums pull together a tender melody over a light cymbal tapping. Yet, at the chorus, the song crescendos with a swirling accordion that evokes that familiar emotional blend found across his music; a little pain, a little cheer (“Love ain’t for the young, anyhow / Something that you learn from falling down”). The same goes for the first single “Afterlife”, where angelic guitar strums move into a steady gallop. Alex G imbues the concept of the afterlife with a powerful call to renewed purpose: “When the light came / Big and bright / I began another life”. When the song blooms in the chorus – when he emphasizes “Son” with a yee-haw enthusiasm – it’s hard not to smile.
The album’s press announcement stated that Alex G’s take on Americana “is at turns direct and impressionistic”. This rings true: Headlights doesn’t rely much on the full-on experimentations that comprised the middle thirds of his previous several albums (I encourage everyone to revisit the ominous thumping of “Blessing”, his loopy pleading on “Near”, his quiet-screaming on “Brick”). On Headlights, the closest parallel is the two-minute “Bounce Boy”, where peppy notes trade off with sky-high vocals; “I won’t let you down / I’m hanging around / I’m up in the clouds And I pray”. On “Louisiana,” Alex G’s sounds even farther away, buried under slow yet thrashing strums and pronounced drum strikes. But here the intent is clear; he’s trying, but not too hard, as if he’s experienced enough not to expect anything.
In other words, on Headlights, Alex G’s experimentations are features, not centerpieces. And while it’s hard not to question this decision alongside the timing with his singing to RCA, these songs still couldn’t be written by anyone else. The four-note flute flourish on “Real Thing” feels pulled from a fairytale, giving the soft-rock number a real lost-in-the-woods feel; “No one tells you what the real thing is for”, he confesses. The opening strums of “Spinning” belie how the song will soon build with strings and echoing effects, letting us experience firsthand Alex G’s dizzying state of mind.
The track sequence of Headlights mirrors that of his albums since Rocket. Album highlight “Oranges” re-grounds listeners with a delicate and spacious guitar-driven ballad, reminding listeners that Alex G is, at his core, a deeply emotional songwriter who pulls from youthful innocence; “Full of sin / Full of love / We were children”.
In a recent interview with Pitchfork, Alex G discussed his complicated feelings toward the jump to RCA. Consciously or not, these wrestlings seep into his lyrics. “Some things I do for love / Some things I do for money,” he sings on “Beam Me Up”; “It ain’t like I’m above it,” he admits not long after. It’s with this framing that the inclusion of the album’s final track, “Logan Hotel (Live)”, feels appropriate. This isn’t the first time Alex G has ended an album with a live take. Yet here, its purpose feels more intentional. Here he is, thumping along with his bandmates. It’s one of the album’s most irresistible tracks, where a harmonica slides alongside Alex G’s jolly “na-na-na”s.
The lyrics, however, offer up something darker and more honest. Alex G sings about two lives: his on the road and with his family at home. His reassurances of “Baby” and “Buddy, hold on now” aren’t free of sacrifice; “I think that no matter what you choose, now / You’re gonna have to lose, now”. At 32, Alex G is at a point in life where the past and future clap back at each other: some choices are made and can’t be undone.
So, to the longtime fans who wish for the days of (Sandy) Alex G and earlier, I suspect he feels the same.
And to the newcomers who are grateful for finding his music for the first time, I suspect he also feels the same.
That’s because Alex G is just like each of us – full of sin, full of love.
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