Review: Neon Trees' 'I Can Feel You Forgetting Me' is Bold in its Exploration of Loneliness and Addiction

In the last couple years, LGBTQ+ artists have flourished musically, with bold artistic statements that challenge notions of what non-heteronormative expressions are acceptable and commercially viable. Albums by Years & Years ("Palo Santo"), Troye Sivan ("Bloom"), and Janelle Monae ("Dirty Computer") in 2018, and Mary Lambert ("Grief Creature") last year, boldly explore the experiences of LGBTQ+ people where sexuality, identity and – particularly in Lambert's work – depression, anxiety, and shame are concerned. Neon Trees' latest, "I Can Feel You Forgetting Me," is most similar to Years & Years' dance/pop style, but with a little more rock thrown in.

Neon Trees emerged in 2008, getting their break as the opening act for The Killers. Tyler Glenn, the band's lead singer and former member of the Mormon church, officially came out in 2014. Following a tour for their third album, "Pop Psychology," the band took a break. Glenn released a solo album, "Excommunicated," in 2016, and starred as Charlie Price in Cyndi Lauper and Harvey Fierstein's "Kinky Boots" on Broadway in 2018. With the band's return, "I Can Feel You Forgetting Me" explores love as addiction and abandonment through ghosting.

Musically, the album is plied with anthemic, singalong melodies. Every song sounds like a potential single. The arrangements and production are colorful, often recalling the 1980s in much the same way as The Killers. A singer with strong chops, Glenn's vocal performances are inspired.

In promotional materials, Glenn explains that the contemporary practice of ghosting informed the lyrics. The album title perfectly sums up the album's lyrical themes: The inability to get over a former lover, sleepless nights,and escapism. Nearly every song references alcohol, drugs, and weed, with app culture and meaningless casual sex thrown in occasionally. Here, addiction to someone is tantamount to excessive and unhealthy consumption. Where unhealthy attachments to love, sex, booze, and drugs are concerned, we doggedly chase after an initial high that quickly and continually eludes us.

"I Can Feel You Forgetting Me" reflects the ways alcohol and drugs are embedded in parts of the LGBTQ+ world. Consumption is a problematic construction of "being gay," especially when community events and socialization are, more often than not, tied to bars, dance clubs, and alcohol. Because of the way consumption and gay culture walk hand in hand, the idea of ceasing use can be paralyzing. The reality of being sober and fun can be a difficult notion for even casual users to grasp.

Often, excess and abuse are manifestations of heteronormative shame. Screenwriter Andrew Haigh ("Weekend" and the HBO series "Looking") once contended that, in art, "drug use is associated with some decline in something," even if some users never go beyond recreational use. Glenn blurs those lines throughout "I Can Feel You Forgetting Me."

In the anthemic and dynamic opener "Nights," a spurned lover realizes his need to move on. But after dark, loneliness sets in: "I can get by the days just fine, but the nights" are another story. As a consequence of the lingering, nagging emotions, he admits "I'm spending all my money on ethical drugs lately – sugar, caffeine, and weed." Laying off the heavier stuff is probably a good idea, given the emotional heft expressed here. However, indulgence also takes place in the context of a relationship ("Used to Like") and individually as a means of coping ("New Best Friend"). This paints a complicated picture of consumption – exciting and fun with a lover, but lonely and self-destructive in the wake of a break-up.

Some songs focus on the emotional reaction to being abandoned. "Is this my modern romance?... I'm calling you my holy ghost, disappear when I need you most," Glenn sings in the energetic "Holy Ghost," recalling New Order in the way synths and guitars intermingle to create a rock/electronic sonic backdrop. The propulsive pop of "Skeleton Boy" follows, with Glenn emotionally exhausted: "I don't want my heart anymore... strip me down to the bone and then leave me alone... I'm a relic for my former love... I feel nothing at all."

Loneliness is compounded by images of adjusting to a new life in Los Angeles – the second largest US city and, as one might assume, brimming with a lot of potential for romantic connection. But here, it appears to be a struggle ("LA is so dramatic, but I'm learning to like the traffic, it's given me time to hum new melodies" he sings in the '80s-style synth ballad "Mess Me Up"). Taking part in nightlife, he drinks Jack & Coke ("New Best Friend") and puts himself to sleep with Aperol and soda ("When the Night is Over"). On the dance-oriented pop of "Living Single," he states that "living single is harder on my body than the drugs... harder when the chemicals wear off." These sentiments are a red flag.

No matter how autobiographical these songs might be, none of the above is to judge Glenn and the experiences that might have informed these songs. Often, songwriting feeds into, and off of, the performative – exaggerating and sometimes fictionalizing elements of our experience to heighten the story and/or emotional content of a song lyric. This can result in compelling work.

The darker conversations in these songs are dressed up in style, with colorful arrangements and catchy melodies – much like getting dolled up for a night out, in the hopes of making a meaningful connection or, at the very least, taking someone home and maybe trying again tomorrow night. Glenn's candor works well, generally avoiding paint-by-numbers tropes while articulating commonly felt insecurities, disappointments and heartaches.

What's problematic is that Glenn never suggests what a meaningful connection might look like. In "Used to Like," he implores his beloved to "get back to what you used to like about me," which entails "highs so high, drinks for free, let's go to extremes." But that appears to be about it.

"I Can Feel You Forgetting Me" is bold in its exploration of loneliness and addiction. And it's startling – like watching a friend in pain, indulging in a hedonistic escape, on the dance floor or at a party, nearing the precipice, and not knowing whether they'll step back from the edge or eventually end up in recovery.

"I Can Feel You Forgetting Me"
by Neon Trees
$9.99 (digital) and $30 (vinyl)
Neon Trees