There are – broadly speaking – three stages you go through when listening to a song (or an album) repeatedly: First, you absorb the atmosphere and simply drift along with the mood; next, you want to understand the composition, focusing on things like structure or arrangement; eventually, you get so familiar with the piece that listening becomes an exercise in recognition and comfort.
The brilliant singer-songwriter Alex G manages to keep phase three from ever fully kicking in. His songs always seem to hover somewhere between stage one and two – between passive immersion and active analysis. And yet you never quite manage to figure them out. Taking notes for an article like this is usually straightforward: you listen until the ideas run dry. But with Alex G, it’s trickier – you could listen forever and still feel like you haven’t cracked the code.
A perfect example: »Afterlife«, the lead single from Headlights, Alex G’s new masterpiece. I must’ve played this folky yet alien pop track three thousand times – my friend Marcus said it reminded him of early 90s R.E.M. – and I still only vaguely grasp the shape of the vocal melody. I couldn’t say with confidence what’s verse or chorus, or why the mix of mandolin, hip-hop beats and shimmering synths is so addictive. Still, there’s a sense of departure. »When the light came, big and bright, I began another life«, he sings – a fresh start, perhaps? That »light«, referenced in the album title too, might well be RCA Records, the major label Alex G recently signed to. But let’s rewind for a moment…
Who are the defining musical acts of the 2010s? Taylor Swift, Kendrick Lamar – sure. But honestly, Alex G deserves a seat at the table.
Before becoming one of the most quietly influential indie musicians of the past 15 years – think: massive online cult, radical genre-splicing, a playful approach to sentimentality – Alex G first gained traction on Bandcamp in the early 2010s. Alongside artists like Car Seat Headrest, Mac DeMarco, and Mitski, he helped define a lo-fi DIY sound. Albums like Trick (2012) remain fan favourites and helped fuel his steady rise. Even the unlikely fact that many of his ultra-introverted/raw songs became TikTok hits says something about the sheer volume of listeners he now commands.
The real deal doesn’t sell out
In recent weeks, I’ve been asking friends to name the most relevant artists of each decade, from the 60s onwards. For the 2010s, most answers were obvious: Taylor, Kendrick, etc. But seriously – Alex G should be in the conversation. Not necessarily in terms of raw popularity, but because he embodies so many key trends: the shift from bands to solo acts in indie; the postmodern mix of sadness and irony; the increasingly seamless blend of genres like country and SoundCloud rap; the hyper-engaged fan culture online (hello, memes). And somehow, he still comes across like just some guy. »I’m very boring. I don’t do anything«, he told Pitchfork. This paradox makes him a kind of archetype for what an indie rock star looks like today – precisely because he doesn’t fit the traditional mould.
Now, with Headlights, his tenth album and major label debut, Alex G has taken the final step in his strange rise. It’s the start of a new life, as he suggests on »Afterlife«. The record sounds like that too: even though Headlights retains a ghostly quality, it’s his most accessible album to date – a clear level-up without sounding like a blatant cash-in. On earlier albums like House of Sugar or God Save The Animals, conventional indie-folk tracks stood out amid more abrasive experiments. Here, the ratio is reversed: it’s the weirder songs – »Louisiana«, »Bouncen Boy« – that provide contrast. Their presence keeps things interesting and stops the record from veering into sellout territory. But overall, Headlights is warmer, smoother, and arguably his best work yet.
The album feels wider and more open, even though it’s less sonically wild – and in doing so, it proves that experimental music doesn’t have to hinge on auto-tuned voices or jarring sonic juxtapositions. Sometimes, it’s enough to have a strangely placed bridge, an unexpected melodic detour, or a moment that breaks the fourth wall. »Some things I do for love, some things I do for money. It ain’t like I don’t want it, it ain’t like I’m above it«, he sings on »Beam Me Up«, seemingly addressing his new life as a major-label artist. It’s clever – and genuinely funny. Even better is the meta-commentary on »Real Thing«: »Hoping I can make it through to April, on whatever’s left of all this label cash«. I absolutely love it. Alex G says no one ever thought he was »the real thing«. That shouldn’t happen again.
