Monday Melodies: Billie Eilish – “Happier Than Ever” (2021)

There are few moments in an artist’s career as daunting as their second project. Whereas they figuratively had their whole lives to craft their debut, they are often reduced to a few months or years to formulate something meaningful, that will keep the audience interested in them. It’s the tragedy of pop music, where the leap from promising young artist to one hit wonder often overlaps terribly. For decades now, it’s been the most exciting and terrifying moment for just about everyone who wants to make it in any industry, and few felt as pressing in the past few years quite like Billie Eilish: a teenager who practically changed the face of Top 40 pop by simply uttering “Duh” while antagonizing a judgmental public.

With “When We All Fall Asleep Where Do We Go?” she felt like a genuine article, ushering in a more candid kind of celebrity. With brother Finneas producing the beats, the record was a perfect piece of mythology. Recorded in her home, the songs detailing mental health issues like suicide, depression, and addiction seemed as radical as her changing hair color and melodies that often fell apart. It helped that Eilish’s vocals were haunting, the harmonies beautiful and melancholic in equal measure. Nobody expected it to be a hit, and yet it ended the 2010s with the poster child for the modern teen: a fact only made more ominous in the wake of the pandemic.

So how do you follow up a record this singular? It landed her the top four Grammy Awards, which featured her loathing the fact that she kept winning. She would perform at The Oscars and Democratic National Convention as well as record the most dour James Bond theme song. Many weren’t sure if or when she would return as the real world began to implode around her. People criticized every detail of her appearance whether it be a slight weight gain or a photoshoot that many argued sexualized her. There were stalkers and controversies. In 2021 alone there have been three documentaries highlighting her quick rise (I recommend The World’s a Little Blurry (2021) especially), making one ask… can she pull it off?

The pressure is insurmountable, and one that leads to a lot of self-reflection during the lockdown. On her first single “My Future,” she even suggests that it may be a couple years until she returns. She has broken the playbook so efficiently that nothing is for certain. Still, the real question was going to be, as cynical as it is, whether fame had changed her. She had every opportunity she could ever want. Would that make her any happier than she was a few years ago? Given the blonde hair change and the misleading album title “Happier Than Ever,” one would have to assume that this was effective rebranding. Was this going to be the wake-up from the metaphorical nightmare that her last album symbolized in every sonic detail?

Yes and no.

The major difference is that the nightmares aren’t presented in a dreamscape this time. There isn’t that dark ambiance hanging over every track, where random sound clips are dropped in to reflect a mental displacement. They are there and there are moments where Eilish wallops a track so powerfully that it cannot help but catch the listener off-guard. The lyrics are more mature, the harmonies more daring, and arguably the songs as a whole are just more powerful. While she has always been a gifted artist, there’s one thing that’s abundantly clear the longer that one spends listening to “Happier Than Ever.” Not only has she avoided The Sophomore Slump, but she has also created an even greater masterpiece.

The most reassuring thing that can be said is that Eilish feels like she has nobody to impress but herself. At no point does there feel like a sacrifice of vision, of giving in to the demands of a burgeoning pop star. Everything she does here feels driven by ideas that impact her emotionally. It is why tracks like “GOLDWING” feature a choir singing so beautifully about purity before Eilish breaks free, using a trap beat to contrast the moment with darkness and concern. It may seem startling, but it’s all part of the richer tapestry. 

As a title, Eilish claims that “GOLDWING” is about an angel (i.e. young woman) who has yet to be traumatized by the world. She encourages them to hold onto the purity for as long as possible, to return to the first minute and feel the goosebumps rise on one’s skin. There’s so much clarity there, and it’s given unfortunate subtext by what surrounds it. The other 15 tracks will never be this clear with emotional innocence again. It’s fleeting and, in some ways, Eilish, only 19, is desperately trying to gain it back as she recounts on songs like the poetic “Not My Responsibility” about how people’s public image of her remains psychologically damaging. She wants to be the rebel, but must constantly face the pressures to conform to an unwanted ideal.

On paper, making an album this candid about how fame has affected her sounds self-indulgent, not sure to produce much satisfaction for anyone outside of hardcore fans. However, it’s all in the approach, and thanks to Eilish’s general need to be candid it actually works. Audiences have already heard her discuss so many taboo issues with sincerity that to make a magnum opus about feeling personally burned out, in desperate need of escape and therapy, actually works in her image. Coming off of the exhaustion that everyone felt in 2020, it also feels strangely universal.

This is all perfectly laid out in the opener “Getting Older,” which finds a pulsating bass playing under her tearful singing. As she will do repeatedly, her voice fluctuates between pitches, emphasizing the shifting emotion as she declares “I’ve had some trauma” and discusses the strangers who are initially appealing but become deranged by the end of the couplet. This isn’t the triumphant return many would expect, but more a meditative mission statement, discussing how her work is connective tissue. It’s also subdued, failing to be at all poppy. It requires pulling oneself into her personal space during the quieter vocals to really listen to what she has to say.

There are often moodier tracks like “Oxytocin” or “I Didn’t Change My Number” that find her becoming more confrontational, and they clash with the quieter moments like “Billie Bossa Nova.” It’s exciting to hear her expand her style, finding ways to alter a tone so that she can explore her candid relationship with the world. “My Future” is a rare moment of optimism, finding her singing clearly over an ethereal beat that builds as the lyrics become more established, more aware of what potential she has in the world. Again, the shift between this and something like “NDA” may seem inappropriate but it captures an artist constantly frayed by the world, in desperate need of greater balance. Every moment of happiness is offset by something frustrating or traumatic. Not every song here will be about love. Some are driven by genuine emotion, an introvert trying to find peace in a world that won’t let her look.

The most literal interpretation of this is “Therefore I Am,” which in some ways is the least exciting song on the whole album. Whereas every other track finds her challenging the listener’s expectations of where her career can go, this is the predictable clap-back. This is her crying “I’m not your friend” while laughing. Even then, it’s a tad humorous because even as the main single it’s full of sporadic talking, muddled vocals, and elements that suggest that she would rather not deal with anyone. With that said, songs like “Lost Cause” and “NDA” do a better job of conveying similar emotions with more creative twists. “Lost Cause” in particular is the closest she has gotten to perverting the ballad, mixing an offkey drum beat as she sweetly sings in a way that’s almost condescending. It features similar putdowns but does so with a misleading shininess that is downright infectious.

Yes, the whole album revels in downbeat tones and emotions. Upon an initial listen, it may be easy to suggest that the record is monotonous, that she’s not pushing herself as much as she used to. That’s because the lasting sensation for most songs is that despair, that feeling of being vulnerable and disappointed in the world. It’s clear that Eilish wishes that she could return to “GOLDWING” and live in that childlike innocence. 

With that said, her observations are far from surface-level cynicism. Sure she has the familiar antagonism, the vibe that she really just wants to be left alone. Even at 19, her ability to write powerful lyrics is impeccable, finding depth and maturity. 

This is most evident in “Happier Than Ever,” the penultimate song that finally finds Eilish reaching inside herself in ways that she hasn’t before. It is the sweeping epic that builds and builds until she is crying for some greater purpose. As she cries “You made me hate this city,” it’s clear that she is remorseful, collecting the experiences of the past few years in a few seconds. In some ways she is even more trapped because of her fame, her need to behave for P.R.’s sake. All she wants to be is normal, and it becomes especially clear in the searing third verse:

And I don't talk shit about you on the internet

Never told anyone anything bad

'Cause that shit's embarrassing, you were my everything

And all that you did was make me fuckin' sad

So don't waste the time I don't have

And don't try to make me feel bad

I could talk about every time that you showed up on time

But I'd have an empty line 'cause you never did

Never paid any mind to my mother or friends

So I shut 'em all out for you 'cause I was a kid

It’s not only the struggle for Eilish to be a perceived role model, but also just a woman in a judgmental world, where nothing she does will ever be right. The pain that has been bottled up inside of her comes across as catharsis for every track. Even if they’re variations of a similar frustration, they all help to paint a vulnerability, the reality that certain things are unfortunately inescapable. She would love to be happier than ever, but fame hasn’t gotten her there (in fact, it's quite the opposite). While it’s given her financial security, it’s clear that it was replaced with unwarranted criticism and backlash from strangers who are reprehensible.

Given that this is how “Getting Older” began things, “Happier Than Ever” felt like it should be a final cry of recognition, a notice that those feeling isolated in a very social world aren’t alone. She knows that pain and has crafted a masterful album. If this was indeed the final track, there’s a good chance that it would still send chills down the listener’s spine every time. Instead, there’s one more moment, one last chance for Eilish to summarize the themes in a way that arguably makes this all more than a piece of art that can be mistaken for vindictiveness. 

“Male Fantasy” as a title feels like it holds so much weight by this point. It’s clear that the men in Eilish’s life have maybe let her down, that she has actually ended up worse because of them. Maybe she is the male fantasy, of someone who needs to please an image she cannot produce. Or maybe, she fantasizes about a man who will actually not make her feel this way. It’s the counterpoint to the whole album, one last calming piece of quietness where she opens up about everything she’s up to. She’s going to therapy, watching porn, and doing everything to feel normal again. For a record that feels so conflicted emotionally, it ends with a bittersweet truth:

Can't get over you

No matter what I do

I know I should, but I could never hate you

That is the brilliant crux of “Happier Than Ever.” While it ties into very real emotions where everything is validated and justifies her need to be open and candid, it’s clear that overcoming trauma whether of a person or society is difficult, that there’s always going to be some affection there. In every creative decision that the record makes, there is enough introspection to suggest that even as a teenager, Eilish is aware of how terrible the world can be but also how she needs to work on making it better for herself. Her need to be open helps, in some ways serving as the therapy that she consistently sings about. 

It’s the type of conclusion that makes Eilish still feel relatable. Even as a world famous teenager, she hasn’t forgotten what’s made her human. Whereas most would lose sight of their initial appeal with extravagance, “Happier Than Ever” is a submissively weird record, feeling like she’s closer to normal while sounding very insecure, with dark emotions bubbling next to optimism.  Maybe she isn’t free of her demons, but sonically it’s clear how much happier she is than only two years ago. 

Because her record connected with others, proving that her esoteric sound wasn’t just a novelty, there was reason to believe that others felt the way that she did. As a young woman, she now conveys a perspective that is essential and vital. Every lyrical detail feels timeless and it’s clear that many of these songs will be just as inescapable. Even at her most somber, Eilish makes pop music so much fun, and hopefully, she will only continue to surprise audiences, giving them not only a glimpse into her own life and insecurities but into that part of us that needed to be explored and validated. Thanks to her, it at least feels like more than a few people are bringing it up in healthy and productive ways.