by benwego
Indie powerhouse Lily Forte arrives with her debut album, Don’t Gild the Lily, a clever play on words that intertwines her name with the idea of leaving beauty unaltered and honest. The title immediately establishes the album’s ethos, signaling a body of work rooted in authenticity, patience, and a deep reverence for what already exists beneath the surface rather than forcing excess or perfection.
Across the album, Forte leans into lush floral and picturesque imagery, pairing it with invigorating vocals to build a vintage sonic landscape that pays homage to her musical heroes. She paints with the brush of Old Hollywood glamour, sun faded nostalgia, and diaristic lyricism, creating a world that feels both cinematic and intimately confessional. With just 11 songs, Don’t Gild the Lily offers an impressive amount to unpack, from its striking instrumentals to its California soaked imagery. Each track unfolds like a postcard from another time while remaining firmly grounded in the emotional realities of the present.
The title track opens with the line “there’s living in dying, there’s pleasure in pain,” immediately introducing one of the album’s central themes. The lyric captures the emotional duality that runs throughout the record, the idea that growth and artistry are inseparable from struggle and sacrifice. By acknowledging that joy and suffering coexist, Forte sets the tone for an album that refuses to romanticize the road to success without first confronting its cost. As the song unfolds, its airy falsetto chorus gives way to a jazzy, Amy Winehouse inspired groove where Forte asserts her self worth with the line “and that’s living like a legend,” reframing perseverance itself as an act of triumph. The moment feels both defiant and self affirming, positioning the record as a declaration of identity and a promise to endure whatever it takes to keep creating.
The album exists in a time machine space, unfolding as a nostalgic yet restless journey shaped by early Lana Del Rey and Lady Gaga inspired wordplay, 60s glamour, and the quiet anxiety of waiting for your moment to arrive. Forte consistently grapples with questions of time, ambition, and survival, particularly on “Stardust.” Here, she reflects on the slow burn of chasing a dream, candidly admitting that “working for the man was never really in my plan,” a line that captures both her defiance and her uncertainty about how long success is supposed to take.
At its core, “Stardust” feels deeply personal, capturing the suspended emotional state of waiting for a breakthrough while clinging tightly to self belief. Lyrics like “fucking up the routine, Florida to LA, is it home or holiday?” expose her internal tug of war between the place that raised her and the place she hopes will transform her. Florida represents familiarity, while Los Angeles embodies ambition, and Forte never pretends the choice between them is simple. Instead, she questions what home really means when the pursuit of becoming someone new pulls you further away from who you once were.
That sense of longing intensifies on “Florida’s Finest,” an existential love letter to youth, roots, and a world before streams and algorithms. When Forte sings “I miss iTunes,” the line lands as more than a throwaway reference. It becomes a symbol of an era when music discovery felt more personal and less transactional. Florida becomes both a physical landscape and a state of mind, sun soaked, bittersweet, and formative. The chorus, “oh the world keeps on turning, that’s the way life goes, it’s a lesson I’m learning, no one ever really knows,” stands out as one of the album’s most emotionally gripping moments, encapsulating the uncertainty that runs throughout the record. Forte continues paying homage to the artists who shaped her worldview, singing “learning from the visionaries, pay them for what they know,” a direct nod to Old Hollywood and the creatives she reveres, positioning herself as both a student and a torchbearer.
As the album drifts west, California sunshine and Ventura Highway imagery take center stage. “Golden Sunshine” is a warm, sun drenched ode to an almost ethereal love, capturing a cloud nine feeling through its euphoric simplicity and emotional realism. Lines like “you said I was your golden sunshine, be my forever and you’ll be mine” channel early Lana Del Rey in both tone and tenderness, balancing romance with emotional fragility.
“Loners on the West” moves fluidly through multiple emotional and sonic landscapes, grounding itself in cinematic melancholy and isolation. A nod to Lana at the opening sets the mood as Forte reflects on the disorienting nature of Hollywood, asking, “this city is strange, with its lowlifes and fame, why does everyone here love to play the game?” The question lingers, revealing both her fascination with and skepticism toward the industry she is trying to make a name in.
Misogyny emerges as another recurring theme on “Loners on the West,” particularly in the biting frustration of the lines, “I’m so sick of fucking wanting what I can’t have, so sick of always wasting time, I see the guys and their perfect lives.” Forte confronts the imbalance she observes around her, where opportunity often seems effortlessly handed to others. This theme continues on the first single from the album “Miles to Go,” a track dedicated to toxic male figures and the exhaustion of shrinking oneself to fit into their worlds. Forte bluntly declares that staying quiet never served her, confessing, “I got a million things I’d rather be doing than hanging with you and your boys on the road.” Her delivery sharpens further with unapologetic jabs like, “you’re so trashy when you’re doing blow, met your match in the pills in those Hollywood hills,” blending both anger and wit.
“Jimi and Janis,” retreats into an imagined inner universe where 70s rock still reigns. It is a place of freedom, rebellion, and eternal music, untouched by modern pressures. When Forte sings, “Jimi and Janis are alive inside my planet, jammin out to Woodstock in my mind,” she creates a vivid psychedelic escape.
The album’s second single, “Out of the Blue,” delivers one of its most emotionally jarring moments, confronting betrayal and hard truths with biting honesty. “Hope you’re sipping something strong when you find out the problem’s you,” Forte sings, addressing a breakup that arrived without warning. The song balances hurt with disbelief, its tongue in cheek delivery cutting deeper as she asks, “baby what the fuck was that? Did you find Jesus on the road? Was it in something that you smoked? And honey who the fuck are you?”
The track flows seamlessly into “The Luckiest,” a dreamy, melancholic reflection that feels like the emotional aftermath. Forte asks her former lover, “did you forget I’m the luckiest damn girl in the world?” while subtly pushing him toward the life he chose over her. Lines like “casting their spell, they got you baby, can’t look at yourself” carry a haunting sense of resignation. Together, these tracks feel sisterly in their message yet contrasting in delivery. This emotional trilogy closes with “Baby Burnt Us Down,” a final moment of romantic isolation and reluctant acceptance as Forte reflects, “baby thinks there’s bigger plans than being the drummer in my rocking band,” acknowledging the quiet heartbreak of being left behind.
The album closes where it began, circling back to themes of living and dying on “Beauty in Everything.” Forte admits, “it’s hard to see the beauty in everything, but I’m really trying, I’m living and dying,” finding solace in the small and sacred, singing, “I found my heaven in my record collection.” The song functions as a profound ballad about resilience and burnout, capturing the emotional toll of chasing a dream when it feels like no one is listening. Lines like “no one really cares why I sing the blues” and “mascara’s coming down, baby I lost my crown, burnout like a showgirl” lay bare the singer-songwriter’s vulnerability. The record ends on a note that feels both intimate and universal, like flipping through memories on vinyl and realizing they are still spinning the story of who you are becoming.
Don’t Gild the Lily is a promising debut that captures the struggles of an artist navigating Hollywood through a nostalgic lens while wrestling with the weight of uncertainty about what lies ahead. It is a record that honors the past without being trapped by it. Through nostalgia and vulnerability, the record captures the emotional push and pull of chasing a dream while still learning how to survive within it.
