Meg Baier

Meg Baier’s fifth album, “Unlovable,” stands as the artist’s most authentic and evocative work to date. Meg’s exceptional songwriting is elevated to new heights through her collaboration with producer Marco Arroyo. Together, they have crafted an album that is filled with captivating hooks, memorable lyrics, grandiose instrumental crescendos, and poignant intimate moments. This album transcends the mere collection of songs, serving as a sacred portal into the experiences of an individual navigating the complexities of mental illness. The songs are both profound and enjoyable, with “Unlovable” being a heart-wrenching, beautiful, insightful, and hopeful masterpiece that will leave a lasting impression on listeners. 

I first heard Meg Baier in 2001. (Say “many years ago” if that’s too precise!) She’s always been a clever, soulful songwriter, but Unlovable sees Meg’s considerable gifts fully realized in one remarkable, gorgeous record. She’s got an ear for great hooks – and for writing piercing insights into love, disappointment, loneliness, hope, and resolve. The standout tracks include “Sad Girl” (count all the allusions to pop classics!) and  the aching, cascading plea “The Size of You.”  Wry, wise and frequently moving, you’ll have this on repeat.

I’ve proudly called myself a Meg Baier fan for over two decades. I’ve followed her through solo ventures and collaborations, often declaring to anyone who’d listen that she’s one of my favorite songwriters. With her sixth solo release, Unlovable, Meg delivers exactly what I hoped for: unforgettable hooks, heart-wrenching lyrics, and a classic sensibility that echoes the greats—Joni, Bob, Ani—whose records I imagine line her shelves.

Though she’s no stranger to nuance and experimentation, Baier’s work always holds up when stripped down to just guitar or piano and voice. That  brilliance is especially true here.

But Unlovable wasn’t an easy listen for me. Not because the songs fall short—in fact, they’re stunning. It’s because the emotional depth of this album is so intense, so real, I had to step away twice just to catch my breath. I went in excited for new music from an artist I love. I came out gutted.

Emotive doesn’t begin to describe it. This record challenges you to stay present, even when your instinct is to retreat into the comfort of catchy melodies or sly humor—both of which glitter the album’s surface. But beneath that sparkle lies something much heavier.

With Unlovable, Baier takes an unflinching look at her own mental health, offering a rare and raw account of the internal struggles so many creatives quietly endure. Anyone who’s ever romanticized artistic genius should sit with this album and listen—really listen—to the pain behind the beauty.

For me, it stirred up a lot. I loved every song, as I always do with Meg’s records. But I also found myself reckoning with my role as a listener: the well-meaning fan who too often offers advice instead of presence, who forgets that empathy requires work.

This album lays bare the trials of daily life through the lens of those navigating invisible but relentless mental health challenges. It’s poignant, unvarnished, and honest—in an era where so much music is polished to the point of losing its soul.

Unlovable doesn’t try to be palatable. It dares to be real. And for that, I’m grateful.