June 13, 2026

by Isabella Gomez Sarmiento

This week, NPR Music reporter Isabella Gomez Sarmiento sits in for Ann Powers, and notices a trend that could define the summer, at least for listeners of a certain stripe.

Frazer Harrison/Getty Images

It was the Madison Square Garden comeback of the year. Not the Knicks’ historic 29-point rally on Wednesday night, but something equally momentous for women with stick and poke tattoos who live in Brooklyn (i.e. me): Phoebe Bridgers’ return to the stage.

Bridgers has been away since 2024, after she and her boygenius bandmates swept an armful of awards at that year’s Grammys and she announced a hiatus to focus on her mental health following intense online scrutiny about her personal relationships and increasingly parasocial behavior from fans. In an interview with the outlet them a year prior, she shared how far some people had gone — “I, at one of the lowest points of my life, saw people who claim to love me f****** dehumanize me and shame me and f****** bully me on the way to my dad's wake” — so it came as no surprise that she decided to take a break.

And yet indie rock fans rejoiced when, earlier this summer (and six years since the release of her celebrated sophomore solo album, Punisher), Bridgers began playing surprise shows in tiny venues across the country. After setting some strict boundaries — no phones, no writing materials, nothing to record or transcribe any of the lyrics that could potentially be posted — the 31-year-old was finally ready to share new music.

In order to get tickets for Bridgers’ stripped-down June 4 stadium set at MSG, fans had to register through a lottery system and make a donation (at least $1) to the Community Justice Exchange's Immigration Bond Freedom Fund. I was not among the lucky zillennials in attendance (a significant blow to my social cachet), but my colleague and editor Hazel Cills saw it with her very own eyes. In addition to fan favorites like “Motion Sickness” and “I Know The End,” Bridgers played eight unreleased songs, which Hazel described in a post-show debriefing as “extremely good, [including] a few that as soon as I heard them I thought, ‘This is absolutely a hit.’ There was a straightforward country song, which surprised me. They were for the most part classic Phoebe — a little otherworldly, a little sad.”

An album announcement is still forthcoming, but this new Phoebe Bridgers era coincides with fresh releases from two other artists who represent a similar vein of confessional, emo-tinged songwriting: Olivia Rodrigo (you seem pretty sad for a girl so in love, just out on Friday) and Gracie Abrams (Daughter from Hell, due July 17). I think it’s safe to say we have officially entered the sweat-stained, tear-streaked glory of sad girl summer.

There are lots of links between Bridgers, Rodrigo and Abrams — some of which celeb gossip pages like Deuxmoi and Pop Base are all too happy to point out — but if we restrict our lens to their music, the overlapping image that comes into focus is the aching existentialism of being a 20-something-year old woman who knows she’s making not-so-great decisions. At a time when pop contemporaries like Sabrina Carpenter and Olivia Dean lean on punchy humor or romantic optimism, Bridgers, Rodrigo and Abrams are a little more somber and self-serious.

Their music also reflects a deeper melancholy running beneath the current state of young womanhood in America. Does the sad girl label cast a trivializing shadow over these artists and their fans? Or does it provide a sense of comfort and community for an audience going through breakups while simultaneously grappling with algorithm burnout, Ozempidemic-induced body dysmorphia and constant geopolitical chaos?

“Being a citizen right now is so dark,” Abrams told Vogue in a recent cover story. “This country is a great experiment, and I think it’s aching so hard right now.”

All three refuse to divorce their artistry from politics in a way their male counterparts might more easily manage. They’ve all taken public stances against abortion bans, crackdowns on immigrant communities and the violence in Gaza. They’ve all also faced the kind of online vitriol usually reserved for pretty, young women with a certain amount of cultural visibility — not for reasons related to their art, but for crimes like wearing a babydoll dress or being the daughter of a famous filmmaker or breaking up with an actor once deemed the internet’s “white boy of the month.”

Each on the cusp of their third albums, often considered the big “make it or break it” moment for stars of their statures — but also often an artistic inflection point — Rodrigo, Abrams and Bridgers might keep their grasp on vulnerable storytelling that mines anxieties and insecurities. But they will chase different aims. Will Rodrigo’s teen riot grrrl edginess evolve into a more mature excavation of her first adult relationship? (In a review of you seem pretty sad, Hazel writes that it tries, but doesn’t always quite get there.) Will Abrams’ TikTok-ready pop hooks give way to more intricate instrumentation and introspection? Will Bridgers’ tech ban on tour help her create sturdier walls between her life on and off the stage, or clear enough space for her songs themselves to stand in the spotlight?

We’ll see. Tonight, depending on how the Knicks play, New York City has the chance to erupt into one giant, ravenous block party. I don’t doubt that this summer, a similar celebration will unfold in the hearts and headphones of self-described sad girls — music fans who aren’t necessarily seeking an escape from their playlists, but a safe space to let themselves feel the weight of the world for a little while.

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