Olivia Rodrigo embraces ’80s New Wave and Sofia Coppola shimmer in ‘you seem pretty sad for a girl so in love’

In Olivia Rodrigo’s third studio album, you seem pretty sad for a girl so in love, the pop singer makes two things abundantly, immediately clear. She is the real deal, and she’s here to stay.

As Olivia Rodrigo continues to traverse the musical landscape, evolving from the diary entry songstress that evoked the best eras of Taylor Swift in Sour, to the emo and alt-punk whispers in Guts, to the sonic hues of ‘80s new-wave that you seem pretty sad for a girl so in love luxuriates in, a less poised artist would appear to be playing dress up. A rolodex of personas to flip through rather than committing to the frightful authenticity needed for the greats. But rather than feeling as if Rodrigo is slipping on hand-me-downs and stealing identities, it instead feels thrifted, repurposed, and stamped with her distinctive vocal wail and bruising self-reflection. Shifting into adulthood via the sound and the lyrics, her third album – easily her best – showcases a confident artist who knows what kind of music she’s aiming for and how to execute it with finesse and personality.

There are a couple of things that immediately separate Rodrigo’s latest from other artists of this era. First, this is a bona fide concept album. In an age where so many albums are built around singles rather than delivering a high-impact, overarching narrative, this alone is a breath of fresh air. Split into two parts, the falling in love and the fallout, the song sequencing best captures this rise and fall. The escalation of emotions experienced in the first single, “Drop Dead,” overflowing with youthful exuberance and the aforementioned shimmery, new-wave sparkle and synth, to the moody b-side and the agonized bouts of self-reflection and insecurities of “The Cure.”

The second is the fact that not a single one of these songs is under three minutes. Utter bliss. There are plenty of great bite-sized songs. That said, not to over-gesticulate about the modern horrors, the fact that her second single, “The Cure,” is nearly five minutes and therefore not at all TikTok-ready is a relief. The kids will maybe be all right in the end.

Olivia Rodrigo delivers refreshing musical cohesiveness on her third album.

But really, it all comes down to the fact that, from start to finish, you seem pretty sad for a girl so in love is a sonically and lyrically cohesive album that plays to the artist’s strengths and established sensibilities (including fervent admiration for other musicians) and builds on them. The effect is natural and mature. She’s able to move away from the songs like “bad idea right?” and “vampire” without sounding like an entirely different artist.

Crafted along with longtime producer Dan Nigro, the album is a love letter to the wayward yearnings and jubilance of girlhood. All while recalling the gothic, stratospheric notes of the ’80s, from New Order, The Cure, and Devo. Perhaps the greatest compliment from this millennial film critic is that “Stupid Song” could slot effortlessly into the Marie Antoinette soundtrack, Rodrigo’s pining and aching vocals right at home, in theme both in sound and spirit.

It’s so good that even the more trite elements or, at least, moments that make me feel old, work better. The talk-singing that pops up in many of her songs will never be to my taste, but it works particularly well here. One, because it finally gels with the song surrounding it, the portions in “Stupid Song” are particularly effective, and it balances that type of brat persona she has been workshopping since the start of her career. A sour scowl that belies an all too sincere heart. It’s a demonstration of her ability to draw on different eras without sacrificing her own sound and vibe.

All three of her singles are cumulative, bridging together her greatest strengths with fortified musicality and ambiance. “Stupid Song”, in particular, impresses with its ability to go for the unexpected. The first few notes suggest a “Drivers License” reassurance before accelerating with great percussive rhythm. It uses the power ballad as a foundation. Then, cleverly, ramps up the intensity to express the sweeping, all-encompassing totality of young love.

you seem pretty sad for a girl so in love , but she builds on her strengths without sacrificing her sound.

“The Cure,” meanwhile, is arguably the best song on the album. Arguably, because it depends on mood more than anything. If you’re looking for the sweeping uplift of romance or the crash-out. The self-interrogation is revealing, punctuated by a fantastically catchy chorus. As she sings about “toxins” and “poisons” (insecurity and self-hatred), it’s the line “But it don’t matter how your love feels anymore” that lands with the most impact. Because there’s only so many times we can ask our partner if we’re enough. We can’t constantly ask them to tell us if they love us, if we’re pretty, for immediate relief. We have to assume responsibility for assuring ourselves. We’re the ones holding the thread and needle, our maintenance in our own hands.

And it’s a lot to process in a relationship, that sometimes the doubts are of our own making. “The Cure” builds and builds, crescendoing on a blazing note of reckoning, the guitar amplifying as violins enter, creating a full-bodied sound.
Even numbers that don’t resonate as strongly still feel like pieces of the whole. It’s further proof that the album was made as just that – an album. Each song bleeds into the next.

Songs like “honeybee” and “purple” are pretty but skippable. They mostly serve the narrative rather than stand out as their own songs. Of the two, “honeybee” is better over time, lending itself to the girlhood aesthetic with balletic cues and Swan Lake-style pops of bubbles. Between the music video shot in The Palace of Versailles, Robert Smith’s vocals on “what’s wrong with me,” and the ever-present longing, “honeybee” speaks to Sofia Coppola’s aesthetic that runs throughout the album. The lone pair of converse in a pile of heels, the cigarette smoke spiraling in the face of decadence. Girlhood on the precipice of more.

’80s and Y2K nostalgia come together to fit her Gen Z sensibilities.

Her vocals stun on songs like “Begged” as her lyrics plunge to darker, more somber territory, singing about trying to fool herself into thinking a love lacking is enough. The vocals stand out just as much in the more upbeat, playful songs. It’s astonishing how well her vocals work with Robert Smith’s. As he sings the words of a young woman dealing with malaise and heartache on “What’s Wrong with Me, ” it is complementary rather than a sonic collision. And she’s perhaps never sounded better than in the aforementioned “The Cure” and “Stupid Song,” melodic with an edge.

“Maggots for Brains” is one of the highlights of the album. The song fully embraces the smooth melancholy of New Order’s indebted synths and bass lines. The inspiration is evident without feeling hollow. It fits with her sound as an ode to the ’80s while not veering too far from her theatrical bouts of melancholy. It works as an interesting counterpoint for “The Cure,” as she sings about all of the residue her body is accumulating while her lover is away, singing “I feel dirty, I feel rotten, and the colors are all flat.” Something is still inhabiting her body, but the negatives become positives in her view, a symptom of her love, rather than (yet) a sign of something amiss.

There’s a similar plunge into nostalgia on songs such as “u + me = <3” which, through title alone, manages to encapsulate the Gen Z style of repurposing only the best bits of the Y2K style for themselves, all jelly shoes, clanging keychains, and friendship bracelets. It layers that British New Wave – the synths and shimmer – over the styling of her earlier material.

The bottom line.

That bass-heavy instrumentation supplements the album with a sense of drive and urgency. And it comes together in the second-to-last song. “Expectations” bridges  heartache with the groovy ‘80s sensibilities. The synth lines and electric guitars give weight to the layered harmonies. The thrashy chorus is light-footed and airy. The lyrics are about refusing to settle after falling for a man she has now blocked on her phone. And it, like all of the best songs on the album, reinforces that Olivia Rodrigo’s greatest strength is her capacity to link her sound to her aspirations. She’s not stagnant, nor is she fully different. She is growing into her own naturally.

With an abundance of glitter and equal doses of gloom and glam, all punctuated by her signature tart lyrical wit and sweet vocals, you seem pretty sad for a girl so in love is a thesis statement for an artist on the rise. She’s navigating her impressive career with clear-eyed ambition and the talent to back it up. And, by doing so, delivers us one of the best albums of the year so far. With songs that will force you to drive with the widows down, music blaring, succumb to the winsome energy of a woman whose exuberance for music turns her heartache into sing-alongs.

you seem pretty sad for a girl so in love is available to stream now.

---

Image courtesy of Geffen Records