Maggie Rogers has always been at odds with genres, formulating these intricate pieces of pop that elevate past the greater plains of Alaska. She’s trying new things and retaining a sense of self without having fans think about any change made within her artistry; it’s authentically her—through thick and thin Rogers continues to find new avenues to explore, and with her latest album, Don’t Forget Me, she does that with sheer greatness. Don’t Forget Me is unlike previous records. Rogers and co-producer Ian Fitchuk (Kacey Musgraves’s main producer), weave together something more intimate with structurally fluid instrumentations that radiate through a sonic motif that starts and ends with a lack of synths. It’s playing less to the tinges of danceable pop, with something more nuanced in Folk and Soft-Pop Rock, an honest detachment I’ve seen coming, especially as Rogers’ 2023 was full of memorable moments and sharing stages with legendary performers/singers. Still, she channels artists like Carly Simon, Emmylou Harris, Joni Mitchell, and Rita Coolidge. Don’t Forget Me caught me by surprise, and in a majorly positive way; the tracks have lavish fluidity and tender depth, making it Rogers’s best work to date.
Don’t Forget Me isn’t perfect, as glowing as I may sound. Still, it’s damn near that, especially when it never placates style, keeping the focus on a steady path toward modernized pop nostalgia, one where the overtures from external genre influence mold into the production, and the subtle tinges make you hear something profoundly new. With “Drunk,” you instantly hear the twangy country-folk strings on a slight reverb open this more commodified but nuanced take on 70s Country-Pop-Rock; it comes after a smooth and minimalistic profound production, that exemplifies the album’s co-driver, the vocals. They radiate differences, burning depth into the paper as the lyrics offer a sense of wonder, even if you have some typical linings like its abundance of different sonic complexions that root out the strengths in her vocals, like the elevated flows of “On & On & On” and “If Now Was Then.” It’s humbling, but more so because it is a platform set up to elevate Rogers’s beautiful voice, without the guise of something grand like “Honey” or “Retrograde,” compared to some of the more stripped-down songs on previous albums where these songs appear. It finally feels like she’s letting loose while also delivering her I’m HERE album.
What I mean by that, is that this is the album where Maggie Rogers will finally reach the heights one expected when we saw the video of Pharrell Williams being surprised by her rough cut of “Alaska” during her studies at NYU. Though the production doesn’t aim to be like the past, you can tell there is something special here. I love how more band-like it feels, where you can hear the rugged layers of the instruments colliding to create something unique and refreshing, like the lively “The Kill!.” Like it, much of the album feels like a time capsule, weaving dustier textures into its production, like with “Never Going Home” and “If Now Was Then” and how It reminded of 90s country-pop, like Wrecking Ball by Emmylou Harris—these songs also highlights one aspect of Maggie Rogers that shines above all, her writing, especially as a storyteller; someone who can paint the picture and let the pre-chorus or chorus speak like an internalized emotional monologue. Rogers is singing about doubts, memories, and love, but does it so mercurially that the parallels heighten when listening to the lyrics and the emotional impact.
It’s exponentially heightened in her ballad “I Still Do,” and it’s focus on the harmfulness of making it work when a relationship needs a break or an end. It continues a thematic consistency that surrounds it with reflections and personal growth within relationships, while still allowing itself to balance interpersonal with personal, even when it is more of the latter. Love is an interesting concept that can get tiring due to a song’s construct, but Maggie Rogers doesn’t make it so, like with “So Sick of Dreaming,” which focuses on individuality instead of wishful thinking. Unfortunately, some instruments may give you a step back, as sometimes playing it safe, but that can be fine based on the impact of other elements. However, that feels purposeful for the fluidity that comes from the writing and melodies created by Rogers, inflecting more of the known. One favorite is “Drunk,” which adds some danceable melodies to its delivery, invoking a higher presence as if you hit positive drunk levels without the alcohol. As well, themes may overlap, but the music’s technical qualities bolster these songs above the fray, though more glaringly with “Never Going Home,” which I adore.
Don’t Forget Me capitalizes on its title, making the listener remember Maggie Rogers for months, and years to come as her evolutions as an artist is one fans will cherish. For non-fans, the album finds footing in creating a grounded spectacle that wallows through your brain like harmonious chimes on a cool, breezy summer day. It isn’t to say previous releases were weaker because of aesthetics or production, but we get something that elevates Rogers more than the synth-laced heaters of her last two albums. This one keeps itself realized through unique instrumentations colliding with the vocals smoothly, making it one sequential flow of greatness. I loved it a lot, and there is only hope in thinking you may as well; give it a listen and let me know what you think!
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