The Quiet Dominance of Gracie Abrams’ This Is What It Feels Like
Press play on Gracie Abrams’s newest album and the first thing you’ll hear is a quotidian expression before a note has been played: a sigh. While typically an insignificant audible, the exhale to begin opening track “Feels Like” is tough to discern: is it a release of anxieties related to her finally making it to this moment of her career, or a method of emotional preparation, as if to say “here we go” one last time before making her final first impression on listeners worldwide? I say “final first impression” because, although this is considered her debut album, This Is What It Feels Like is just over a year removed from her first EP, minor, a project that made fans of all proportions. In discussing her breakout single “driver’s license”, Olivia Rodrigo cited minor as a muse for the smash hit, claiming she wrote it “how Gracie would write it.” Attendees at Abrams’ latest tour included Charlotte Lawrence, Addison Rae, and Kaia Gerber among the crowd at LA’s storied Roxy Theater. The sold out show gathered hundreds of Abrams’ biggest fans in a setting equally as intimate as the songwriting the 22-year-old artist excels in. Abrams has taken the bedroom-pop aesthetic and origins of her music and evolved into a mature songwriter with the sophistication to maneuver the often-complicated realities of listeners her age. On This Is What It Feels Like, Abrams grows into her voice and not only sustains but builds on the depth of her writing to become a star in her corner of music.
There’s a condescending optimism in Abrams’s music — while dwindling in her songwriting, it is exceedingly evident in terms of her potential niche-stardom. Her painfully, charmingly raw voice is center-stage for the 38-minutes of This Is What It Feels Like; her vocals are the equivalent to a forced smile through agony, the brave face we put on that really hides nothing at all. As harsh as her voice may be, the true tragedy is in her lyrics. Listening to This Is What It Feels Like is like experiencing death by a thousand cuts — its astounding how much damage Abrams can do in so few words, working in partnership with her voice. Her writing is unrelenting, opening up old wounds and pouring peroxide on any existing ones, but never malicious. A quick summation of the most devastating lyrics on the album:
“Just wish that we could fight now…”
“I guess the thought of it’s enough…”
“The side effect is cold resentment…”
“I went quiet, and you went cold…”
“I almost liked the way you fooled me…”
“Heard a poem about mid-October / How the leaves in the fall feel like closure…”
While most of her music in the past has focused on the collapse of a relationship, Abrams broadens her scope to give all-too-relatable commentary on the dangers of living in her age demographic. At times, its hard to tell if Abrams is writing about her relationship with a significant other or with herself. On “The Bottom”, an upbeat anthem with radio potential, Abrams warns that she will drag whoever attaches themselves to her directly to the bottom. She provides plenty of warning, saying she’s “no good / You could do better” and claiming she’s happier when she’s sad. Objectively reading the lyrics leaves room for an interpretation of the song to function as a statement on her own mental state, encouraging her conscious to “leave and never come back,” allowing herself to indulge in the self-pity and sorrows life brings her. A handful of other tracks on the album possess the same ambiguity that can be heard as a message to an ex-partner or a script of internal dialogue. This duality fits Abrams’ audience and strengthens the relationship between artist and listener, with most experiencing the lyrics on more than one level. While her words are simplistic, her writing has a complexity that is impressively sustained throughout the record, a true testament to Abrams’ talent.
As impressive as Abrams’ stealth may be in formulating a double entendre with her song structure, her writing is equally as imposing when she doesn’t feel the need to disguise her themes of loneliness and feelings of being lost. There are moments throughout This Is What It Feels Like where the listener is acutely reminded of Abrams’ age; in the opening lyrics to “Camden”, she confesses she “can’t picture anything past 25.” Her inability to see opportunities earnestly approaching is a sentiment most 20-somethings know all-too-well, aware of their existence but the true prospect of those realities incomprehensible. On the same track, Abrams pleads for someone to notice how hard she’s trying as she tries to find her place in her surroundings: “Toein’ that line / All of the time / Callin’ it fine,” the chorus repeats. “Hard to Sleep” and “Augusta” call on feelings of anxiety while searching for direction, with the latter being the more gentle, and subsequently emotionally-intense, of the two. Employing a folksy guitar unlike any other on the album, Abrams sings through emotional exhaustion, a tone we haven’t heard in her voice before. Any optimism her voice previously held has disappeared as she hollowly echoes a world she seemingly has no faith in seeing. “Tough, don’t know a lot that can hurt me,” she half-mumbles towards the track’s end. She doesn’t seem confident in saying this, exposing a truth she likely already knows: that’s a lesson that can only be learned the hard way.
This Is What It Feels Like showcases Abrams’ most prominent talents and offers more insights into her potential in years to come. “The Bottom”, a late single from the album, is the most pop-driven song of Abrams’ career so far. The album’s release was paired with a music video for the song in which Abrams is seen bloodied and cold-eyed as she flashes guilty smiles in between jovial movements in disposing of a dead body. Unironically, the video is a visual definition of her voice: playful and menacing, often at the same time. At different points in the album, she invokes the writing styles of Harry Styles and Taylor Swift, executing to the standard set by the artists from which Abrams descends. The vocal performance on “For Real This Time” is perhaps the most assured I have heard Abrams to this point in her career, undoubtedly the most enthusiastic and inspired vocals on the album. Even with these promising signs of growth, Abrams confesses on “Camden” that she’s “only scared of getting bigger.” As I re-listen to the album, all I can think about is that sigh to begin the record. Was it in preparation for what was to come on this project, or for what is to come next? As hard as it is to envision the future, both immediate and in longevity, sometimes all we can do is take a breath.
