header image: by keith oshiro
words: jamie ryan anderson, @jamieryanwriter
no one is really doing it like lizzy mcalpine
there are few musicians with enough talent to procure the following that lizzy mcalpine has – the kind of deeply personal genius that makes you, the listener, want to keep them all to yourself.
my partner and i have been avid lovers of mcalpine for almost as long as we have known each other, if not longer; much of her music has marked significant points in our relationship: ‘orange show speedway’ was the chorus of our falling in love and ‘spring into summer’ charted the forging of our inextricable link to one another. the arc and scope of mcalpine’s discography is not only fascinating, but wholly relatable – and her fourth outing, angel, is no different. where previous projects might have relied on acoustic-heavy sound, which complemented the themes beautifully, angel shifts this already storied sound into something more expansive. the tracks seem to breathe a sense of peace and calm that few of her songs have before – almost as if angel is bathing in the sun, smiling against a soft summer breeze.
there also seems to be an obvious shift from the inner self to the wider world, an act which signifies that mcalpine has done the soul-searching she needed to start living; if give me a minute and older were a mining of the self, angel uses what was found there to form a solid attempt at happiness; it is almost cinematic in its sound, with the opening track ‘the light in the painting’ feeling more akin to film montage music than anything mcalpine has ever done before.
this album has all the melancholic storytelling which mcalpine does so well, with an updated sound that’s almost nick drake if he had grown up on phoebe bridger’s ‘scott street’. mcalpine has also spoken about her love for joni mitchell before and mitchell, it seems, is all over this album. angel, in this vein, is an artful ode to what has come before, while giving the sound a fresh lick of paint – an act that marks mcalpine’s departure from previous indie-pop lamentings in service of more organic, indie-folk sounds that carve this album into a certain personal and melodic revelation that you absolutely do not want to miss.
▌this is angel by lizzy mcalpine… ranked!
14. our strange ways
perhaps the most confessional track on the album, ‘our strange ways’ is also the only track that feels ever so slightly like a task to listen to. for a song that seems to represent the artistic and philosophic imaginings of a different life, where mcalpine didn’t make it out of her hometown philadelphia, there is a lot to be loved here: it has a beautiful melody, featuring some other-worldly synths that really draw you into mcalpine’s imagined vision of life.
it does, however, go on for too long – and what could have been an almost eerie lament, turns into a monologue with which we lose our footing instead. the track does redeem itself with the slowed down bridge, but the outro struggles to find a satisfying conclusion; the song ends with a hopeless declarative – “i remember everything” – which brings us solemnly back to a reality the writing had worked hard to avoid. i can see the point of it all, but it does, nonetheless, leave you dragged instead of carried through the track’s seven minute duration.
13. anybody’s fool
the percussive undercurrent that thrums throughout the entirety of ‘anybody’s fool’ is a strong artistic choice, mirroring the darkness of the lyricism with a fierce beat of anxiety; this heartbeat, quickening as the track goes on, seems to build towards a climax that ultimately never arrives – the lyrics are moving, but the production fails to match the intensity of the words, leaving you with the feeling of having watched a film that ends almost in the middle of its runtime.
12. two elevens
a soft song that doesn’t look back in anger but rather for the sake of looking. here, mcalpine tells us that the act of remembrance doesn’t need to come at a cost: “we had something / that’s all that matters” is a beautiful sentiment that’s matched in tone by the pensive guitar acoustics – and a sentiment that represents growth from previous albums.
where mcalpine might have been trapped by her memories of both happiness and unhappiness before, she is now freed by them. the declaration that she is “older” is not only a callback to her previous album, but an acceptance – an acceptance that’s a pleasure to listen to.
11. angel
‘angel’ is the perfect closing track for the album, which does a lot of heavy lifting to combine all the new sounds and growth that mcalpine has explored on this project, all in pursuit of a new, distinct style.
the sound builds on the soft acoustic tones that she has mastered before, all the while imbuing the newly acquired indie folk vibe that comes as naturally to mcalpine as someone decades known in the genre.
10. soldier of the road
the most cinematic track on angel. it has the unique feeling of a western drama, as though you’re being swept through a canyon at dusk, the light heavy and full of warmth. the lyricism here is something to be in awe of: “i have people to love / i have music to write” proves that mcalpine is her own soldier of the road… the road in question being the great frontier of sonic discovery.
09. i have a friend
mcalpine cites ‘i have a friend’ as the product of wanting to write a “classic love song.” slow and observatory, this is a track about watching a lover as they play the guitar – an act in which performance becomes a metaphor, ambiguously blurring the line between love and music. the level of seeing in this track is something that few songs can actually capture (“i watch him tune up his strings / there is no song without his love to make it sing”). the light acoustics, married with poetical lyricism, not only capture the essence of a typical love song, but also solidify mcalpine as an artist more than capable of penning a love ballad.
08. mason’s song
early in 2025, mcalpine started recording what would eventually become angel in her friend mason stoops’s studio in altadena. as they worked on an early version of ‘anybody’s fool’, heavy wind swept through the san gabriel valley, causing stoops’s garage door to rattle loud enough to be captured in the recording. this led to an argument between mcalpine and stoops, which saw mcalpine leaving the house and sitting outside. later that day, the same wind swept a forest fire through the valley, completely destroying stoops’ home.
‘mason’s song’ is not only an ode to that argument and the destruction of stoops’s home, but also to the fierce sibling-like relationship that was forged between the pair when they met in 2023. the sound is slow and warm, and the lyrics are personal and touching in their intimacy. the haunting outro and recurring motif of “i can’t do it alone” speaks not just of the production of her music, as stoops is her co-writer, but also of life – ‘mason’s song’ is perhaps the most powerful love song on the album because it so beautifully captures an ever-enduring love.
07. peach
music production is something that mcalpine understands innately. the string plucks in the background of this track are like the offensive ticks of a clock that’s running out of time. the sense of urgency triggered by this is beautiful in its melancholy, following mcalpine as she tries to consolidate her two very different lives: one in which “the crowd is going wild in the stands” while she stands “in the kitchen, one step closer to [herself].”
ending with peaceful humming and the gentle whisper of piano keys, giving the feeling that all is in order, that mcalpine has perfectly balanced the celebrity version of herself with the woman she had always wanted to be.
06. a car wash and a new pair of pants
featuring perhaps the most upbeat sound of the album, the track recounts a lover using mcalpine for the fame and glory that could be gained from being with her. it’s a song that lyrically leaves little room for ambiguity – in the bridge, mcalpine sings: “always tried to keep fame as your mistress, i just loved you.”
sonically, this is more akin to indie-folk than the majority of tracks on the album, and it seems to be strongly inspired by joni mitchell – the more i listen, the more of her i envision all over this track, both from the incisive lyricism to the wavy sound, making the track a natural standout on angel.
05. the crowd
mcalpine’s track thirteen is always reserved for her late father, who she lost on march 13th in 2020 – it is no surprise, then, that this was the only song on the album to make me cry.
lyrically, this is a simple song, with a mournful sound that makes it feel large in scope. here, mcalpine tries to remember her childhood (and the feeling of being “fearless and carefree”) but she can’t – a struggle that’s now inextricably linked with the grief of having lost her father, the pillar of her childhood. and while this song is almost a wish that things were different, there is also a beautiful sense of acceptance.
in a poignant and heartbreaking declaration, mcalpine states: “everything i do / i make it big so you can hear the crowd.”
04. ugly things
the second single from the album, ‘ugly things’ charts the breakdown of a relationship. “it never gets easier, ending a relationship and having to watch them move on. to me, it felt like i had no right to be upset, because i was the one who did the ending. but now i realize that that fact doesn’t mean that i didn’t love him. i had my own reasons for doing what i did, and they were completely separate from my love for him,” mcalpine explained via the angel club, aka her interactive snail mail community.
the confusing nature of this experience is mirrored very well in the song – the track flits expertly between lightness and heaviness, using guitar strings to melodise the experience of saying goodbye to someone you once loved more than anything. it is tracks like these that signify huge artistic growth since older, an album that almost languished in its painful recollection. in angel however, recollections are rarely painful – they are transformative, as all good music is.
03. the moon
upon my first listen of the album, ‘the moon’ was my favourite track. it has the expansive, cinematic sound of tracks like ‘the light in the painting’ and ‘soldier of the road’, but it feels more focused here.
the percussion and backing vocals give the song an eerie feeling that’s mirrored in the lyrics, which follow a narrator trapped forever in their lover’s orbit, for better or worse. the layered sound is beautiful and gives the album an orbital feeling, with the pre-chorus speeding up at a dizzying pace that leaves you basically breathless. in some ways, i do believe this may be some of mcalpine’s best work.
02. over country
in early 2025, mcalpine made her broadway debut as nellie collins in the musical revival of floyd collins. she played the sister of the title character, who tries her best to be there for her brother after he becomes trapped underground in a kentucky cave. speaking with the lincoln centre theatre, where the revival was being staged, mcalpine said that she felt as if she was “meant to do this show and play this part” – it was during her time playing nellie collins that mcalpine wrote ‘over country’.
the yearning that mcalpine would have been channelling every night as a sister desperate to save her brother is poignantly felt here, too. in the bridge, mcalpine laments: “in the holding of hands, and the way the guitar plays this tune, i can hear you.”
what we have here is a beautifully produced track with a gentle sound which is matched not only by its expert lyricism, but also mcalpine’s innate understanding of the transferable nature of feeling. it’s a track that’s just ambiguous enough to be a love letter from nellie to her brother, floyd – but it could also be about any lover, or any family member, or friend. the feeling that mcalpine stirs in this song is strong enough to be felt by any listener; a feeling that speaks more than anything to the quite transformative power of music to unite people mere feet or thousands of miles apart.
01. the light in the painting
the album’s lead single ‘the light in the painting’ compares a lover to the bright spots found in a painting; the track uses metaphors to tie the images together. the close and intimate imagery of the song evoke a certain departure from previous albums. in older (and wiser), there is a focus on physical departures, namely in ‘pushing it down and praying’; however, physicality in ‘the light in the painting’ is closer to an almost spiritual awakening: “sink my nails into your skin / what a beautiful way to finally feel something” is a shift for the singer, and a sonically beautiful evocation of feeling that she, before, may have shrunk from.
I think this is why I love the opening track so much, and why I have picked it as the best track on the album. It’s not only the perfect amalgamation of McAlpine’s growth over the last few years, but it is a welcome and refreshing revisioning of her sound.
It’s a track that tells us that everything here is bigger, everything is bolder, and instead of pursuing her own, insular sound (like we have come to know with Older), McAlpine is branching out here by honouring her influences to give us an album that’s as storied as it is deeply personal. Each line is laden with romance and, where before some of her ballads may have come across as fleeting, this one feels as though it could last forever. Like the titular painting, the feeling that we get here, whatever it may be to you or me, is one that’s promised to be forever immortalised.
