There is a moment early on in the season two premiere of Euphoria where Rue stumbles upon somebody snorting drugs off of a washing machine. Usually, these awkward moments are laughed off and never thought of again. Instead, Rue inquires. His name is Elliott and for whatever high he’s currently sustaining, he’s capable of playing it cool while hiding behind the excuse that he’s a “washing machine repairman” even though he knows nobody is buying it. This is a doomed friendship that would only continue to blossom throughout the season but at the moment, Euphoria has done something that’s rather impressive. They introduced a new character with singular confidence that he immediately sticks with the viewer, making one wonder what’s this guy’s deal.
Ladies and gentlemen meet first-time actor Dominic Fike. To somebody like me, this was the first time I ever knew of his existence. He was just another guy who played guitar in this strange world of East Highland. The task of holding his own opposite Zendaya and Hunter Schafer isn’t easy but somehow he’s made it work. So the question ultimately becomes: who is he? Where did he come from? For those who only follow the world of TV, that answer is much more difficult to answer. If you’ve been at all familiar with the music industry, he’s a different kind of anomaly.
At 26-years-old, he has had quite an enviable career already. He’s collaborated with artists like Halsey and Paul McCartney while garnering fans like Billie Eilish. He appears to be in demand as interviews in recent weeks have featured the question of when he’s going to record more music. His debut album “What Could Possibly Go Wrong?” dropped in 2020, but that’s not even the end to his strange ascension. To fully appreciate how meteoric his rise is, one has to go back even further, before the Brockhampton video and New York Times Presents episode “Dominic Fike, At First.” One has to go around to 2018 when he released “Don’t Forget About Me, Demos” and a time before “3 Nights” garnered over 671.3 million streams on Spotify.
Fike seems like a mythic figure who benefits from the bad boy image. One of the tattoos on his face is an Apple logo while his hand features an image of John Frusciante of Red Hot Chili Peppers. He comes from a dysfunctional family in Naples, FL, and has one of those prison stories that many would dream of having. Without going too far into it, he recorded some of “Don’t Forget About Me, Demos” before or around a house arrest. Not being allowed to use the internet, he wasn’t aware that the songs were rising in popularity and very soon, he had a bidding war among record labels. By the time he got out, he had so many options to launch his music career before landing on Columbia Records.
Along with the irony that he claims that “What Could Possibly Go Wrong?” was released around the same time that he drove his mom to jail, he already had a full image that was easy to sell. Nobody had his story. Even those his age who worked their whole lives to get their music out there via websites like Soundcloud or Spotify couldn’t compare to how random this all feels. Who could possibly go from having almost zero public profile to collaborating with a member of The Beatles? It feels unfathomable, and yet Fike did it.
A lot of it may have to do with good timing, of having a sound not too dissimilar from Post Malone and having a look reminiscent as well. The only real difference is that Fike has more of a conventional attractiveness. Lyrically he has a gift for being sensitive and edgy without losing the audience. Regardless of how essential his music is, he’s easy to market around. It makes sense why Sam Levinson would hire him. There is something welcoming about him even if he has many hallmarks of a man much more threatening and off-putting. If you put on one of his songs, there’s a good chance that you could appreciate his laidback vibe and autobiographical lyrics that only build empathy.
To be completely honest, “What Could Possibly Go Wrong?” isn’t a flawless album. He definitely has found a lane and rides it hard. With that said, I think one of the more exciting things about listening to a debut album is the untapped potential. All first outings have an autobiographical quality that can be messy, an unformed sketch of greater ideas to come as the artist matures. Fike clearly has a lot going on in his music, creating a built-in universe where songs range in length from short bursts to lengthy meditations along with tracks that are high concept and feature inappropriate melody breaks. It’s not outright chaos, but there’s something rambunctious even during its highest clarity. We get to look into his world and find what feels like him letting us into his home, hearing him goofing around with friends, and trying to make a newer, more authentic approach to music.
So what does a man whose life story has become a great marketing campaign have to offer over 14 songs in 34 minutes? Like most younger artists, there’s an interesting mix of genres that transcend definition. On Wikipedia, it claims that his inspirations include Jack Johnson, Blink-182, and Red Hot Chili Peppers. In some respect, it’s easy to hear all of them somewhere in his work. There’s plenty of poppy driving guitars that hook the listener. His voice ranges from melodic harmonizing to antagonistic rapping. While he doesn’t have much that necessarily makes him stand out in the bigger pond, he does have appeal.
Just listen to “Cancel Me” and you get the whole range of his appeal in one song. The guitars are fun and the chorus has enough memorable moments. It’s one of his edgier songs where he at one point asks people to “cancel me” and “kiss my ass.” He does so with the lackadaisical vibe that sounds like it’s coming from under a layer of weed. While many have written songs about wanting people to hate them, there’s something interesting about his angle, and ultimately what makes him appealing. Amid concern about appearing on Jimmy Kimmel Live and having success, he admits that his ultimate reason for wanting to be away from the spotlight is to spend more time with his family. Where most young artists sing of fame, there’s something downright charming about wanting the opposite, a fact made more impressive by how enigmatic Fike’s career feels.
The album is full of songs that may not change the face of Top 40 pop, but would have an easy time becoming sleeper hits. He has enough appeal that you can transition from something like Post Malone to Fike and not have it feel out of place. On songs like “Chicken Tenders,” he finds ways to mix relationships with humor by referencing how itchy his back is. There’s a personality there. Songs like “Vampire” feel created in a lab, group tested to appeal to the widest possible audience. The guitar again doesn’t have anything mind-blowing going on, but the way he creates a song that speaks to the listener is appealing.
It's honestly the back half where the album becomes simultaneously the most interesting and the biggest mess. Whereas the first nine songs have this cohesiveness, tracks like “Politics & Violence” begin to veer into long, experimental screeds. The instrumentation gets shaken up and the sincerity is lost in something bizarre. Tracks like “Joe Blazey” and “Wurli” are fun, but they reflect something amorphous that could better be explored in later work. As a young artist who clearly is taking inspiration from everywhere, it’s exciting to think of what his sound could become.
For now, he’s mostly good. I can see why other artists would endorse him as a great talent. If nothing else, there’s enough here that alludes to greater things to come. He has the lyrical capability to make something more emotionally rich, to make stories about his recent success into pop hits. I imagine that there will be something about Euphoria or the news that he’s dating Schafer that will make for a fun little ditty. Given his connections, there’s also the possibility that he’ll meet other artists and producers that will enhance what makes him stand out this early in his career.
Again, I don’t love “What Could Possibly Go Wrong?” There’s little that immediately felt essential. Even then, it feels like the calm before a storm. There’s going to be something in the near future where he lands on a perfect balance and connects with the mainstream. He sort of has that on Euphoria right now, but in music he still has a little work to do. Right now he has a lot of ideas clawing to get out, and it’s endearing to see what lands. Best of all, there’s a good chance that if this ever made it into a shuffle that certain songs could grow on me and I’d better appreciate what he’s doing. There’s authentic perspective here, a push beyond the sometimes generic sound to something warming. He may be edgy and hard to pin down sometimes, but the fact that he’s likable helps in so many ways when he can produce such goofy and endearing rhymes alongside them. I can't wait for his charisma to get stronger because it could get really fun when it happens.
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