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Photo: Danielle Neu

With her debut full-length project, Good Riddance, Gracie Abrams takes our hand and leads us through a coming-of-age soundtrack to heartbreak, grief, love, and loneliness.

While moody albums can often exhaust themselves on emotion, Good Riddance feels less like a rumination on sadness and more like it’s providing a voice for all the nights I couldn't quite find the words. It embodies that feeling of validation you get when a movie character feels like it was written about you: for better or worse, you can relive those feelings, but this time you’re not alone.

The album opens with the delicate self-deprecation of “Best,” a foreshadowing introduction to Good Riddance’s emotional palette. Lightly plucked percussive accompaniment tiptoes listeners into Abrams’ blue-hued outlook and narrative lyrical voice.

“I know it won’t work” is the weeks after a breakup, when it’s far past your time to be wallowing in bed but trudging through a normal routine feels like torture. The chorus spills its guts on an earworm pop hook, personifying the racing thoughts that sprint behind a brave face. Abrams’ tortured vocal tone infuses the urging melody with heartache, creating palpable desperation.

“Full machine” follows, rounding out the sharpened anguish of “I know it won’t work” with warm, muted piano chords and soaring strings. The arrangement is still rich with the ache of longing, but this time softened by pensiveness instead of tapered by frustration. Abrams reflects, "I’m a forest fire / you’re the kerosene / I had a life here before you / but now it’s burnin’"

While “Where do we go now?” is the sing-it-into-the-abyss fan favorite, its follow-up track, “I should hate you” is my personal kryptonite. The bridge buzzes with pent-up desperation, letting it all rush out in one breath. Abrams keeps her foot on the gas, barreling listeners through a high-speed chase of lingering love. It hurts so good to relive the memories. “Amelie” is love at first sight’s forgotten alter ego; the taxi ride home alone picturing them behind every brightened apartment window. Abrams balances us back out with “Difficult,” the certifiable anxious-girl-anthem, where bubbly synths and cyclical melodies wash an overthinker’s monologue in a rosy tint. Finally, with a floating, existential closer to the album, “Right Now,” lets us reflect on the emotional journey of Good Riddance from a bird's eye view.

Altogether, Abrams has handed us her diary in a delicate 10-track, twinkling whisper-pop package. Good Riddance is a milestone in the artist’s marriage of haunting vulnerability and hook-based writing, and already a classic in the hearts of new fans and diehards alike.

Listen to Good Riddance below: