Looking around the hyper-corporate, sugarcoated Osheaga festival, where vibrant Coors Light merch, sheer bellbottoms, and wasted office-workers run amok, it\u2019s difficult to imagine finding a place for an earnest, solemn artist like Lucy Dacus. Nevertheless, here she is at 6 in the evening, pinching off pieces of her soul before our eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Lucy Dacus and the greater Boygenius cinematic universe fill an important niche in the world of music. We all need songs to throw on after a breakup, something to accompany your next dissociative stare through a rain-streaked bus window, and Dacus delivers. There\u2019s something dissonant about seeing it played on a pleasant summer\u2019s eve, peering over the shoulders of a vibrating crowd, but Dacus manages to hold us in place anyway. With grace, poise, and a bit of endearing self-consciousness, she weaves through tracks off her new album, Forever Is a Feeling <\/em>(2025, Geffen Records), bringing melancholy Americana and folksy ballads to the pop-addled masses of the mainstage. <\/p>\n\n\n\n In some ways, it\u2019s like stepping into a cool cellar after a day in the garden. Where there was sunshine and butterflies before, now lies damp cobblestones and ancient cobwebs, illuminated by the tender, fragile candlelight of Dacus\u2019 immaculate songwriting and deathly serious demeanour. While her Baroque folk might not be exactly to my tastes, it was a welcome and well-received relief from a day otherwise dominated by quippy pop and nostalgia bait. An honest, vulnerable display of quiet strength, Lucy Dacus asks us to lean in, inviting our attention instead of demanding it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n\n\n\n