Album Review: Gracie Abrams Bids ‘Good Riddance’ in a Raw, Confessional Debut

Gracie Abrams struggles to achieve sonic individuality amongst other “sad girl” indie artists, but as she bares her soul track after track in her debut breakup album, heartbreak is painfully palpable.

Written by Wayne Lim

Photo courtesy of Sarah Louise Bennett

Gentle, airy vocals lead the way through a misty fog of confessional ballads mourning the end of a relationship. “I never was the best to you,” admits Gracie Abrams in the Good Riddance opener “Best,” setting the tone for the rest of her melancholic breakup LP, as guitars and synths swell into an ethereal atmosphere full of regret.

Released just 10 days ahead of her sold-out 21-night headlining U.S. tour, debut album Good Riddance marks the 22-year-old’s newfound confidence. In an interview with Teen Vogue, she revealed that she had refused to call her 2021 long project, This Is What It Feels Like, an album because the songs felt like fragments of different moments over her mental health recovery. Now choosing to debut with a breakup album in an era of “sad girl” indie artists, the L.A. native is definitely brimming with boldness.

In 12 tracks, Good Riddance leads us through a 52-minute journey of heartache. Opener “Best” ushers the listener into wistful ballads “I know it won’t work” and “Full machine,” each revealing the singer-songwriter’s inability to let go of her partner as she yearns, “’Cause part of me wants you back, but / I know it won't work like that, huh?” in the former and insists, “I almost lost it / I'll heal eventually / But faster if you're next to me, next to me,” in the latter. Standout track “Where do we go now?” follows, with Abrams retrospectively brooding over the red flags that led to the end of her one-sided love, against a pulsing electronic drumbeat. The titular question remains unanswered by the end of the wispy ballad, even as synths and strings billow under Abrams’ breathy vocals.

Helpless longing gives way to reluctant self-awareness in “I should hate you,” marking a shift in tone as Abrams finally acknowledges her unhealthy denial and failure to move on, set to the gentle strumming of an acoustic guitar. Reaching an emotional low in the album, she spotlights her insecurities in lead single “Difficult” (“And oh, I hope I wake up invisible / I'd be someone no one knows / I guess I'm just difficult, difficult”) and reveals unhealthy coping mechanisms in “This is what the drugs are for” (“Hopefully, the high / Works to change my mind”). 

Image courtesy of Interscope Records

The sorrowful songstress then leads into an optimistic conclusion, asserting a newfound ability to get over her ex-lover in “Fault line,” and alluding to a new lover in “The blue.” By this point, the monotonous guitar and synth accompaniments feel all too familiar and stale. Finally, Abrams declares: “I'm so high, but can't look down / Left my past life on thе ground / Think I'm more alive somehow / I feel likе myself right now,” perfectly capturing the mixed emotions that come with abandoning the past for a newfound comfort in album closer “Right now.”

Yet, in her unflinching candor, Abrams fails to catch the repetitiveness of her stream-of-consciousness lyricism. “I almost called a hundred times” in “This is what the drugs are for” echoes the line “I’m a shameless caller” in “Full machine;” and “Oh, I know / Spiralin' is miserable” in “Difficult” repeats “Last night, I spiraled alone in the kitchen” in “I should hate you.” With the tracks already sharing strikingly similar drum beats, atmospheric synths, and subtle background guitar riffs, Abrams’ unvaried whispers only further blur the album into one forgettable tune. 

It’s easy to dismissively shove Good Riddance onto a shelf of “sad girl” indie records, where Abrams’ would struggle to stand out sonically amidst the likes of up-and-comer Olivia Rodrigo’s spirited angst, Phoebe Bridgers’ haunting melancholy, and Lucy Dacus’ deep, resonant vocals. However, not every artist’s debut album needs to push the boundaries of genre. In fact, Abrams’ struggle to stand out might be a necessary cost for insistent self-reflection, sacrificing poetics and theatrics for blunt emotional truths. The over-cohesiveness of the album and the lack of sonic individuality are forgivable only because, by thoroughly unpacking her lived experience of heartbreak and healing, Good Riddance presents heart — just enough to leave a thirst for more. 

It begs the question: Where do we go now?