Reuniting with The National’s Aaron Dessner, the singer-songwriter strips back bedroom pop for something harder and more textured.
Gracie Abrams is done whisper-singing into the void. Her latest album, produced alongside Aaron Dessner, marks a decisive shift from the intimate, almost claustrophobic intimacy of her debut. Where earlier work felt like overhearing someone’s diary entries through bedroom walls, this project swells with instrumentation, deliberate arrangements, and the kind of production choices that suggest she’s stopped apologizing for taking up space.
Dessner, the guitarist and producer behind The National’s most sonically adventurous work, brings a collaborator’s sensibility rather than a fixer’s hand. The pair lean into dynamics this time around. There’s actual restraint, which paradoxically makes the emotional moments hit harder. Abrams’ lyrics about heartbreak and self-reckoning remain her throughline, but now they’re framed by something that feels less like bedroom pop and more like indie rock with introspective bones.
What’s easy to miss: the album functions as a confidence statement masquerading as another breakup record. Yes, there are songs about romantic dissolution and self-doubt. But underneath sits something quieter and more interesting, a 24-year-old deciding what kind of artist she actually wants to be, not what streaming algorithms and TikTok discovery playlists demand. The most ambitious move isn’t sonic at all. It’s the refusal to chase the viral moment.
