Songwriter Madi Diaz’s third record and final entry in what may be considered her heartache trilogy is a piece she considers her rawest yet. Fatal Optimist comes in the wake of a serious relationship ending. Diaz purposefully spent more time alone, sitting with the heartbreak, allowing for a more stripped-back approach and confessional tone to emerge in her music.
Getting the album just right was more of a process than it initially appeared. The original recording didn’t mirror Diaz’s experience, so she scrapped those sessions and reworked the material with co-producer Gabe Wax (Soccer Mommy, Zach Bryan) and a few studio musicians. The decision was bold but has mostly paid off. While the overall impact of Diaz’s collection of songs can be exhausting, Fatal Optimist also allows her to lean into what she does best: laying bare her heart and making striking yet subtle observations that linger well after the notes end.
If it seems like Diaz is always experiencing heartbreak, she is well aware of the optics; however, this time around felt different, as this person could have been the one. Listeners are invited to experience the push and pull of the relationship, one that took all of her energy, even after it ended. She experiences a myriad of feelings, from longing (“Time Difference”) to despondency (“Why’d You Have to Bring Me Flowers?”) to resignation (“Lone Wolf”). Subtle differences emerge until it feels like she is recounting the various stages of grief.
Diaz was in a vulnerable state when composing these compositions, but also forthcoming about her inner turmoil. There is a certain wisdom that comes from heartbreak. “Ambivalent” features Diaz with an acoustic guitar front and center. She sings “You’re a lover but you are not my friend / Here for the party but never the ending / A free fall, you’re just not the landing.” In “Feel Something”, she wishes she had never known his middle name. Occasionally, as on the beautiful “Heavy Metal”, she takes a long view, despite mainly being amazed at how she remains unbroken.
Her lyrics can be brutal, especially when it comes to her forthright take on sex. In “Feel Something”, she sings, “I used to think I needed to read your mind / I’m only gonna find what I’m gonna find and then we’ll fuck and then we’ll fight.” The song describes how she doesn’t feel anything but might if they hook up, a far cry from her previous standout “Think of Me”. She was once spiteful about her former lover sleeping with somebody new, but now surrenders to the occasional fling.
The tendency toward more candid confessions is perhaps what makes Madi Diaz stand out among her peers, as musically, she does little to separate herself from the ever-growing number of singer-songwriters with Nashville ties. The tracks skirt the edges of alternative country but can also lean into it, as on “Good Liar”. Not until the closing title track does Diaz infuse much energy. On that number, she proves how she is on the level of a musician like Lucy Dacus but has chosen to wallow in more melancholy moods.
Some musicians have made a career out of struggling in love. What makes Diaz different from an artist like, say, Maggie Rogers is her consistent tone throughout and willingness to lean into the anguish. Nobody is telling Diaz she can’t do something different, but this is also the artist we have come to appreciate. Despite—or maybe thanks to—her hopeless disposition and constant surrender, we find ourselves rooting for her. On the rare occasion, we get the sense that perhaps she does, too.
