Indie pop hero Lucy Dacus has come to St. Paul to discuss the complexities of love. Especially young love. Between two people who work together. Or in her case, her bandmate in a Grammy-winning side project.
Love is complicated and messy. That’s OK, Dacus assured us on Monday in her first of two nights at the Palace Theatre.
Dacus, who turned 30 on Friday, has made a serious study of the pull between desire and reality on her new album, “Forever Is a Feeling,” her fourth solo album and her first since her indie supergroup Boygenius grabbed three Grammys last year, catapulting Dacus and bandmates Phoebe Bridgers and Julien Baker into the mainstream.
The statuesque Dacus took the stage Monday in a shiny black suit jacket, black jeans and white blouse, lit from behind by just a small spotlight. She eased into 2021’s “Hot & Heavy,” with its ringing electric guitars before the stage’s museum vibe was revealed, with a wall of framed portraits, much like the cover photo of “Forever Is a Feeling.” During the next 90 minutes, these frames became illuminated with images ranging from landscapes to modern art.
In her first Twin Cities solo headline appearance since 2022 at First Avenue, Dacus delivered a formal, often fragile program of passionate poetry that was polite without a musical peak but packed with plenty of emotional punch. The intimate, detailed moments of her highly personal songs connected with Dacus’ excited audience of mostly young women.
Self-consciously artful and understated, Dacus framed her concert as a museum piece, playing a series of low-key tunes from “Forever Is a Feeling.” In fact, she offered all but one of the selections from “Forever” — including its opening instrumental, “Calliope Prelude” — though not in order.
“Limerence” was stunning in the beauty of its stillness. “Ankles” was playfully lusty, chronicling a relationship from infatuation to sex to let’s live together. “Bullseye,” a duet on record with Hozier, was rendered with spot-on elegance by Dacus and guest singer Jenn Wasner, who has toured with Bon Iver and Wye Oak.
Other highlights came from earlier in Dacus’ career, including 2018’s “Nonbeliever” with its mournful violins, 2021’s “First Time,” which found the usually decorous Dacus flailing away feverishly on electric guitar, and 2016’s toe-tapping “I Don’t Wanna Be Funny Anymore,” which was about as close as she came to a rocker in a 20-song set that suffered from a sameness of tempo.