Gracie Abrams is clearly navigating a difficult period in her life, yet on her third album, Daughter from Hell, that struggle fails to translate into compelling art. The record is filled with familiar tropes: Hollywood parties that leave her feeling isolated, complicated relationships with emotionally unavailable men, and a reliance on tired imagery like knives, fire, and ghosts. While these themes are staples of the genre, Abrams struggles to make the listener believe in the gravity of her situation.
The album often feels like a collection of “pity me” narratives that rely on hyperbole without the necessary emotional weight to back it up. When Abrams sings lines about preferring to be hit by a train rather than letting a lover go, the sentiment falls flat because the songwriting lacks the specificity required to make such melodrama resonate. Instead of offering a fresh perspective on the anxieties of young adulthood, the album leans into vague commentary that feels disconnected from the listener.
A Stagnant Sound in a Post-Pandemic Landscape
Perhaps the most significant issue with Daughter from Hell is its production, overseen by Aaron Dessner. The arrangements—minimalistic guitar and piano—feel like a relic of the COVID-era pop music boom, characterized by breathy, sedated vocals. Rather than feeling intimate, the vocal delivery often highlights a lack of control, with gaspy, focus-pulling breaths that distract from the lyrics. In many tracks, Abrams seems to be cycling through impressions of her contemporaries, from the vocal stylings of Lorde and Olivia Rodrigo to the aesthetic choices of Ethel Cain and Phoebe Bridgers.
The result is a project that feels lukewarm, lacking the sharp edges or unique identity one might expect from an artist on their third major release. Even when she attempts to pivot, as on the synth-pop track “Look At My Life,” the lyrical content remains trapped in a cycle of seeking pity for the struggles of a famous, wealthy pop star without offering a truly insightful critique of celebrity culture.
The Search for Specificity
There are fleeting moments of potential, such as on “Minibar,” which benefits from a more grounded, self-deprecating perspective. However, these moments are the exception rather than the rule. Throughout the album, Abrams grasps at the universality of her suffering but fails to trust her audience with the specific details that would make her experience feel authentic. By relying on monotonous sonics and vague metaphors, she leaves the listener wondering if the “Hell” described in the title is a genuine emotional crisis or simply a temporary inconvenience.
Ultimately, Daughter from Hell is an album that feels stuck in purgatory, unable to decide whether it wants to be a raw, confessional work or a polished pop product. For an artist with Abrams’ platform, the lack of growth and the reliance on dated sonic trends make this a disappointing step forward.
