Album Review: Grace Ives - Girlfriend

Grace Ives doesn’t ease you into Girlfriend. She kind of throws you into it—half-dressed, heart racing, still dealing with last night’s decisions. And somehow, that’s exactly why it works. This is not a “clean” comeback album. It’s not a neat redemption arc either. 'Girlfriend' lives in the in-between: post-mess, mid-rebuild, still figuring it out. You can hear that tension in basically every track. The songs feel like they’re teetering emotionally and sonically—but never fully fall apart.

Where 'Janky Star' felt like it might dissolve at any second, 'Girlfriend' goes bigger. The production is louder, shinier, more chaotic on purpose. Synths stack up, beats hit harder, and there’s a constant sense that everything could overflow. But Ives keeps it just contained enough to stay addictive instead of overwhelming. The real hook, though, is her voice—not technically, but emotionally. She doesn’t filter herself much. Lyrics about addiction, bad habits, and self-sabotage come out blunt, sometimes awkward, sometimes almost too honest. And instead of polishing that up, she leans into it. Tracks like “Drink Up” don’t try to teach you a lesson,they just sit in the cycle and let it spin.

There’s also a weird confidence running through the album. Not “I’ve got everything together” confidence, more like “I know I’m a mess, and I’m still going to say it louder.” Songs like “Stupid Bitches” feel explosive in that way: not polished pop anthems, but raw, slightly unhinged releases of energy.

And then, just when it feels like the album might stay stuck in that chaos, it opens up. There are moments where things soften. You get glimpses of growth, or at least the idea of it. Not a full transformation, just the sense that she’s trying, and maybe that’s enough for now. That’s kind of the whole appeal of 'Girlfriend'. It doesn’t pretend to have answers. It doesn’t wrap things up. It just moves—fast, messy, honest. And in a space where a lot of pop feels overworked and over-explained, that messiness hits harder than perfection ever could.