Foto–© Shervin Lainez
Lucy Dacus schlägt ein neues Kapitel ihrer Karriere auf, und damit auch ein neues Selbstverständnis. Nach dem durchschlagenden Erfolg als Teil der Supergruppe Boygenius (nach 7 Grammy-Nominierungen und 3 Gewinnen im Jahr 2024 haben Dacus, Julien Baker und Phoebe Bridgers das Projekt auf unbestimmte Zeit auf Eis gelegt), kehrt sie als Solokünstlerin mit einem sehr persönlichen neuen Album zurück. Die Songs auf Forever Is a Feeling vermitteln ein Gefühl von echter, tiefer und ruhiger Liebe – die Art von Liebe, bei der man sich gegenseitig Tee kocht und fragt, wie man geschlafen hat, wie es im Text ihrer neuen Single Ankles perfekt zum Ausdruck kommt. Letztlich ist es die Art von Liebe, die in wahrer Freundschaft verwurzelt ist. Für diejenigen, die aufmerksam zugehört haben, war es keine Überraschung, als Dacus vor kurzem enthüllte, dass sie in einer festen Beziehung mit ihrer Boygenius-Bandkollegin Julien Baker ist, etwas, worüber die Fans seit 2023 spekuliert hatten (schließlich wurde während der Boygenius-Tour viel auf der Bühne geküsst).
Die Enthüllung ihrer Beziehung kommt zu einer Zeit, in der die queere Community verzweifelt nach einem Hoffnungsschimmer sucht. In einer Zeit, in der die Nachrichtenlage unerbittlich düster ist – geprägt von der allgemeinen Verwüstung durch die Trump-Administration und den anhaltenden Angriffen auf queere und transsexuelle Menschen – bot die Ankündigung einen Moment der Freude, der jeden im Internet ein wenig aus dem Häuschen brachte. Vor ihrer intimen Pre-Release-Show im Berliner Säälchen spricht Lucy Dacus über die Herausforderungen, mit denen queere Menschen heute konfrontiert sind, darüber, wie sich ihre Kunst und ihr öffentliches Leben mit dem aktuellen politischen Klima überschneiden, und darüber, warum sie zum ersten Mal einen Song mit dem Pronomen „Sie“ geschrieben hat.
“Too often, people confuse love with social contracts that protect us against loneliness.”
Hi Lucy! How’s it going? Are you excited to be back in Berlin?
I’m really happy to be here. Every time I visit, I end up in a different neighborhood, so it feels like I’m always discovering a new side of the city. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced Berlin the same way twice, even though I’ve been here quite a few times. I really want to go to the airfield and bike around. And we’re about to head to an Uzbek restaurant that looks amazing!
That sounds awesome. I listened to your Modern Love episode with the New York Times yesterday, where you talk about committing to a long-term relationship. This seems to be a key theme in your new album as well. For readers who haven’t heard the episode, what’s your best piece of relationship advice?
Actually, it’s advice I received from someone else: when you’re in a conflict, try to balance it by saying positive things like “I love this about you” or “I see you trying,” just to soften the moment. The goal shouldn’t be to “win” the conversation, but to really understand each other and ease the tension. That’s been really helpful for me.
This is the first time you’ve used she/her pronouns in one of your songs. Can you share a bit about what went into that decision, and why it wasn’t something you did before?
It’s actually kind of funny, I didn’t realize that was something I hadn’t done yet! I’m a bit late to things. Growing up, people would call me a lesbian, and in college, all my friends were saying, “Lucy, you’re gay.” But I wasn’t dating women at the time, and I’d just go along with it, thinking, “Yeah, I’m a big ally.” When I met new people, they’d assume I was gay without asking, and it wasn’t until no one was surprised by it that I started identifying that way myself. I didn’t really need to come out because everyone had already figured it out (laughs).
It’s kind of the same thing with this song—everyone assumed all my songs were about women, and I’ve always kept the pronouns ambiguous. Some songs people think are love songs for women, but they’re actually about complicated relationships with friends, regardless of gender. Saying “You are my girl” felt like something new for me, even though it was kind of expected. It’s not hidden or cloaked in anything; it’s just plain. I’ve often been really intimate about certain details of my life but avoided sharing too much personal information, so this felt especially close to my heart. Every time I say it, it makes me smile, and that’s a really nice feeling.
How do you feel this album reflects where you are in your life right now, both personally and as an artist?
I think up until now, I’ve been really career-focused, but looking back, it wasn’t so much that I had a plan to pursue music—it just kind of happened. Music started as a hobby, and when it began paying my bills, I thought, “Okay, I should really commit to this.” So, I’ve spent a lot of time touring and recording, and music has taken up most of my life. I’m still doing it all the time and happily so, but I’ve reached a point where I realize I want more time with the people I love. This album, being about love, reflects that shift in perspective—realizing that my life should be about love, both in music and outside of it. That’s where I’m at right now.
What do you think you would have done if music hadn’t ended up paying your bills?
Honestly, I’d still be happy. I was working in a photo lab before, editing and developing film, batch editing wedding photos, school portraits, sports team pictures—stuff like that. I didn’t mind it at all. I could definitely see myself still doing something like that. The thing I liked about jobs like that is you could go home at the end of the day and just leave work behind, you know? But with music, I’m always thinking about work because it’s also my art. I’m constantly thinking about the music itself, writing, or dealing with the logistics—like figuring out the details of a show or a tour. I really need to carve out some mental space to just focus on the people in my life, without work constantly on my mind.
How does it feel to release something solo for the first time after the enormous success of Boygenius? Do you miss the others?
I do miss the others. But luckily, I’m happy with what I’ve made, so the press tour hasn’t been as tough as it could’ve been. If I had created something I wasn’t proud of, I’d probably feel terrible talking about it every day—it would just feel like selling something I didn’t believe in. But I’m having conversations I feel are actually meaningful. As embarrassing as it might sound, I think this record is valuable. Maybe it’s a little corny to say, but I genuinely believe in the songs and the ideas behind them. Working together has definitely changed how I approach my own art: I’ve realized that I need to keep working on something until I’m truly satisfied with it. I used to give up on ideas more quickly, but now I understand that part of the creative process is pushing through and not settling. Having a clear sense of when something is truly complete is a huge part of the creative process, and I’ve really learned to trust that instinct.
Do you have a favorite track on the new record?
Right now, I think it’s Big Deal. Every time I play it, I really feel it. But there’s also a song called Come Out that almost didn’t make the cut. I was going to remove it because I thought the melody felt repetitive, but when I started playing it live, the audience really responded to it. We also added harp to the recording, which gave it this sweet, unexpected vibe. It’s become one of my favorites now, and it has some of my favorite lyrics on the album. It’s surprising to me how much I’ve come to love it since the recording process.
You’ve been pretty outspoken about politics in the past. How do you feel about what’s happening in the US right now?
It’s awful. Trump is a menace, he’s a convicted felon, an unremorseful assaulter and liar who is being advised by people who are only interested in money. That being said, I think the US is just a bad country overall. I was not a fan of Biden either, I’m not a fan of any sitting president I’ve been alive to experience, and our legacy is a bad one. There’s a lot of great art, and the land itself is so beautiful – there’s a bunch of things I love in the US, but politically, it’s a disgrace. Right now, I have friends whose passports are being “corrected” to the gender markers they were assigned at birth. That’s literally happening, maybe people won’t be able to leave the country because of it. I don’t know what the end goal of all this is. And there’s so many other things: Our food is messed up, our housing is messed up and expensive, transportation is super messed up. Our disaster relief is terrible. We’ve had a lot of natural disasters happen recently that have affected people I know personally; the fires in LA, and then the floods in Asheville, where my birth mother lives. People’s whole houses were washed away. These things may feel unpolitical at first, but the way that they’re handled is heartless, and no one is taking big enough steps to address climate change.
“I think many queer people are feeling less comfortable being visible, because they feel like targets. We might lose out on some incredible art as a result.”
Given the current political climate, how do you think the next few years will affect the music industry, especially for queer artists?
On a personal level, I think many queer people are feeling less comfortable being visible, because they feel like targets. We might lose out on some incredible art as a result. But on the other hand, we may see some really powerful, creative responses in opposition to that. There’s also a middle ground—like with my own music. This record isn’t protest music, but it’s a heartfelt account of queer love that I want to share, showing that it’s possible. It just so happens that the love I’m writing about is for a woman, but it’s something I hope everyone—regardless of sexuality or political views—can relate to. I think real love, the kind that’s not based on economics or transactional needs, naturally is more progressive. Too often, people confuse love with social contracts that protect us against loneliness or help with financial security. But true love, the kind that genuinely fulfills both partners, is rooted in something deeper—fulfillment for each other, not just self-interest or fear. That’s the kind of love that drives progress.
As you mentioned, your record isn’t protest music. Do you feel pressure as a queer artist to make a political statement right now?
There are multiple ways to look at it. Externally, yes, there’s always pressure to represent your demographic in a certain way. At the same time, there’s also pressure to stay quiet—I’ve had people tell me, “Just play your music, don’t make it political.” In a sense, all that external pressure kind of cancels each other out. But personally, I do feel a good kind of internal pressure—to use my platform and resources to help others. It’s not like I feel the need to constantly make everything about activism, but I do want to make meaningful contributions. Hopefully I can inspire others to care about the things that matter to me. No effort will ever feel like enough, but each one feels valuable.
Do you feel there’s a need for more lighthearted queer art, especially in times like these? For example, the video for your new single Best Guess has such a celebratory vibe.
Absolutely. That’s part of why I wanted to create it. If I weren’t out, I’d feel so many reasons to stay in the closet. Beyond the societal and governmental pressures, the queer community itself can be really critical, policing what’s “queer enough” or what language is acceptable. While it’s important to have conversations about representation and vocabulary, the constant scrutiny can make it harder to fully embrace your identity. Plus, so much of the media around queerness focuses on suffering—stories of tragedy, loss, or disownment. While those narratives are important and real, the reason we come out is to live more freely, joyfully, and authentically. I wanted to create a vision of queer life that’s not just about hardship, but about living fully and celebrating who you are.
Before returning to Europe for the Forever Is A Feeling tour in June, you played a series of smaller, special live shows, giving fans the chance to experience the new songs live ahead of the album’s March 28 release. Which venue on this tour has been your favorite so far?
It has to be Église Saint-Eustache in Paris. It was incredible! I was near tears multiple times. The vaulted ceilings were just breathtaking, and there was a crucified Jesus right next to me. I grew up in the church, so being in that space felt a bit dissonant at times. Like when I played Best Guess and sang „you were my girl“ in the church, I thought, some people might think this is blasphemy. Historically, if I had done that or even been myself in that space, I might have been killed. But instead, it was a beautiful concert on a random Monday, and no one was trying to harm me. It felt like we’re in a different world now, and that was really powerful.
Lucy Dacus live:
18.06.25 Berlin, Astra
19.06.25 Berlin, Astra – ausverkauft
21.06.25 Neuhaus ob Eck, Southside Festival
22.06.25 Scheeßel, Hurricane Festival
