Since her emergence onto the music scene five years ago, Billie Eilish has grown up before the public eye, seemingly transforming overnight from the moody alternative artist known for her fanbase of “sad teenage girls” into the full-fledged, Grammy Award-winning pop star we know her as today. And as her music career has grown, so has she — Eilish was only 14-years-old when her song “ocean eyes” first went viral on SoundCloud.
Now at 19, with the release of her second full length album “Happier Than Ever,” she finds herself grappling with the consequences of her fame. Contemplating on the past five formative years of her life, Eilish uses her music to divulge, often in heartbreaking detail, the unique struggles of having been forced to grow up as a teenage girl under the harsh, unforgiving glare of the spotlight.
Sonically, the album is a bit of a mess, bouncing from soft lo-fi beats to samba-inspired rhythms and punk-rock guitar riffs and everything in between. It’s far from cohesive, and probably shouldn’t work, yet somehow, Eilish pulls it off. Perhaps it works because of the way its lack of sonic cohesion matches the tumultuousness of her current controversies, or because the 16-song album’s sole producer is her older brother Finneas O’Connell. But regardless, the album isn’t really trying to be tied together through any sonic elements; instead, it hones in on the major themes resurfacing time and time again in the lyrics: love, fame and growing up.
“It hones in on the major themes resurfacing time and time again in the lyrics: love, fame and growing up.”
“Getting Older” is a deeply personal track in which Eilish laments having to “get older” amidst fame. It sets the tone for much of the rest of the album, juxtaposing straightforward confessions with soft, slow melodies. “I Didn’t Change My Number” and “Billie Bossa Nova” features a return to form, incorporating the quiet, charming cheekiness and half-smirk that pervaded much of Eilish’s older work. The lead single “my future,” while somewhat underwhelming, is a good representative of the album’s general sound, starting off mournfully with Eilish’s trademark croons and halfway through bursting into laid back beats reminiscent of lo-fi music.
The middle of the album is where it begins to drag. Here, several of the songs such as “GOLDWING,” “Lost Cause” and “Hailey’s Comet,” while not unpleasant, don’t add anything new to the album. It is also here that Eilish’s trademark whispery croons begin to border on redundant, leaving something more to be desired from the vocalist who clearly has the ability to deliver loud, powerful belts, yet chooses to hold back. It is understandable why Eilish would feel compelled to stick to the breathy voice that has become her signature style, but the quiet tension already built up halfway through the album aches for release.
But this quiet singing style is not without its merits, and it is in “Not My Responsibility,” a spoken interlude Eilish first debuted over a year ago, where it is best utilized. Her bone-chilling voice cuts to the core, only overshadowed by the weight of her words. Eilish addresses the listener directly, confronting them and the public in general, on the relentless objectification she has been subjected to. Her anger and frustration is palpable, and it is no wonder; long before her 18th birthday, Eilish was already garnering attention for her “strange” style of dress — baggy clothing, which, as she would later disclose, she wore to hide her body from public scrutiny. But if anything, it had the opposite effect.
Last October, paparazzi caught Eilish walking to her car in a tank top, prompting two consecutive reactions: first, a tweet declaring that Eilish had developed a “wine mom body,” and second, thousands upon thousands of tweets simultaneously defending and sexualizing her. The next song that the interludes fade into, the haunting “Overheated,” almost certainly references this incident. These two tracks are a demand of sorts, a demand for the public to acknowledge the relentless objectification and sexualization of teenage girls, especially those in the limelight.
The album’s title track, the second to last song on the album, is when Eilish finally provides a release. Starting as a slow guitar ballad musing on a toxic, irresponsible lover, the song suddenly erupts into full-on punk-rock. And then, in perhaps the best moment of the entire album, Eilish half-screams, half-belts “Just f—in’ leave me alone.” It is a giant breath out, the tension finally shattered, Eilish no longer containing her anger behind whispered slights. The angriest, loudest moment on the album is also somehow the most beautiful; it is the epitome of catharsis, something Eilish undoubtedly needs.
The album is imperfect, but it is a powerful collection of songs with moments of intense introspection and melodic beauty. And it couldn’t have come out at a better time: emblematic of society’s tendency to tear down what it builds up, Eilish has been facing more scrutiny than ever before in the past year, plagued by Internet controversies and cancellations. The sexualization has, if anything, gotten worse. Yet with “Happier Than Ever,” Billie Eilish is making her statement to the world and ever-watching public eye: she will not take it lying down.
