Dominic Fike looks backward to move forward in genre-blending ‘Rocket’
Many of the songs on Dominic Fike’s new album “Rocket” were already familiar to listeners, having been previously leaked. Some play off of previous fan favorites, borrowing riffs or themes. Hannah Mesa | Illustration Editor
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As Dominic Fike wrapped up his Lollapalooza set in Chicago on Aug. 3, a message reading “QUIET PLEASE BABY ON STAGE” appeared on the big screens. Fike emerged from backstage holding his son, who was wearing giant noise-cancelling headphones, in his arms.
Fike carried the child out to the edge of the stage, where a selection of baby toys awaited them. He put the child down, grabbed a toy microphone and began playing a baby-sized keyboard.
“Man, you got a son / You gotta get to it fast, man / You gotta run / You gotta come up with sum’,” he sang as he and the child shared a smile. That song, unreleased at the time, was “All Hands on Deck,” the intro track of Fike’s latest album, “Rocket.”
The album, released on Aug. 21, appears to have the same name as the child who shared the stage with him at Lollapalooza. The performance was a defining moment of Fike’s complicated career. The album lived up to the touching moment in Chicago that fueled its rollout.
Looking at last summer’s “14 minutes” and the previous season’s “Sunburn,” it’s apparent the Florida man has a go-to release season. Even before the drop, Fike had an uncharacteristically busy summer, appearing on Kevin Abstract’s out-of-the-blue album-of-the-year contender, “Blush,” and the duo’s subsequent project, “Geezer.”
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At first glance, “Rocket” presents more as a collection of songs than a cohesive album of the “What Could Possibly Go Wrong” or “Sunburn” variety. Despite that, “Rocket” is filled with subtle hits, emotional ballads and memorable moments across its very short 26-minute runtime.
Fans already heard many of the album’s highlights before release night. Fike played “Great Pretender,” “All Hands on Deck” and “One Glass” in his festival sets, including at Lolla. The latter sounds like one of Fike’s demo hits from his early music years, and “Great Pretender” stands out as the album’s best.
“Girl, you’ll always have something I desire / When the clock stands up, it’s a new day / You’ll always have someone there beside ya,” Fike sings on “Great Pretender.”
“Rocket” is a very Dominic Fike album and feels, in many ways, symmetrical to his previous work. The bouncy beat on “Sandman” presents as a sequel to “Ant Pile” or “Chicken Tenders,” while “Upset & Aggressive” begins with a pitched-down version of the same descending baseline on “What’s For Dinner?”
The project rewards longtime listeners with follow-ups and callbacks throughout. From the intro track and throughout, there are hints of the SoundCloud era of Fike’s career — which rolled into his BROCKHAMPTON and “Phone Numbers” days and eventual mainstream break.
Those echoes aren’t just present sonically, but also thematically. Fike’s reexaminations of failed past relationships, a toxic romanticism and discomfort with his fame are ever-present. Even previous collaborators, namely Devin Workman, Sam Homaee and Jim-E Stack, are all over the album’s song credits.
“I wasn’t singing like Frank Sinatra / Not because I was afraid to be center stage / Yeah, it was quite the opposite,” he sings on “Quite the Opposite.” “Because I knew you’d be bummed if I took all the thunder / So I did the opposite.”
In this album, Fike attempts to come to terms with his flaws. He’s done that before, but perhaps his son has spurred a new era of therapy and self-reflection. On “Epilogue,” Fike sings that he only learns “when I crash and burn,” describing family issues and busy therapists.
“I traveled through time with thoughts and verses / Thought I moved forward but it just goes in circles,” he sings on “Epilogue.” “What you said back then / Fell out the back of my head / Oh, whatever.”
Fike’s seemingly incompatible aggressive Florida-man vibe and soft romantic tendencies have melded to create a memorable discography. His retrospective music is a soundtrack for nostalgia, the music for rose-tinted glasses wearers to play throughout their rose-tinted headphones.
“I like to think about the aftermath,” he sings on “Aftermath – Edit.” But on “Rocket,” that look back at the past may be more worthwhile. It feels like Fike is attempting to come to terms with personal lows to usher in his new era of fatherhood.
That cycle of attempted growth and eventual relapse has plagued Fike, who appears to feel trapped by the predestination of his upbringing and industry. Is “Rocket” a jumble of mainstay sounds and feelings, or a hard launch of a new Fike? He probably doesn’t even know.
