FINNEAS l Optimist

Without any of the gothic production flourishes that put him on the map, the producer and songwriter’s latest album is gloomy, on edge, and disappointingly hollow. 

In a recent, live interview for the New Yorker, Billie Eilish was asked to recount how she had experienced the onset of the pandemic. She was on tour, busy and oblivious to the news, she said; she didn’t notice what was happening until she was canceling shows. “I wasn’t looking at my phone,” she explained. Seated next to her in the Zoom frame, her brother Finneas O’Connell piped up: “I was.”

Finneas has something he’d like you to know: He’s been paying attention. Finneas acknowledges his privilege and his whiteness; he’s caught up on politics, has thoughts on cancel culture, and wonders if our phones are poisoning our brains. Finneas is young, only 24, but perhaps he has some wisdom to share: Make the most of your finite time on this earth. Also, call your parents.

These are some of the talking points on Optimist, the misleadingly named debut album from the songwriter and producer best known for his ongoing creative partnership with his younger sister, one of the biggest pop stars in the world. Without any of the gothic production flourishes that put him on the map, Finneas—single-handedly, as its sole producer, writer, and, on 12 out of 13 tracks, instrumentalist—made an album that’s gloomy and on edge, encumbered by the alienation of life in the digital era as magnified by the distorting lens of fame and new money.

Finneas has something he’d like you to know: He’s been paying attention. Finneas acknowledges his privilege and his whiteness; he’s caught up on politics, has thoughts on cancel culture, and wonders if our phones are poisoning our brains. Finneas is young, only 24, but perhaps he has some wisdom to share: Make the most of your finite time on this earth. Also, call your parents.

These are some of the talking points on Optimist, the misleadingly named debut album from the songwriter and producer best known for his ongoing creative partnership with his younger sister, one of the biggest pop stars in the world. Without any of the gothic production flourishes that put him on the map, Finneas—single-handedly, as its sole producer, writer, and, on 12 out of 13 tracks, instrumentalist—made an album that’s gloomy and on edge, encumbered by the alienation of life in the digital era as magnified by the distorting lens of fame and new money.