Even more than the Sophomore Slump, a pop artist’s third album is where things get most interesting. The best become overeager to challenge themselves and make something that is new and fresh. However, contemporary history has shown that audiences aren’t usually as game for this journey with even artists as renowned as Lady Gaga (“ArtPop”), Lorde (“Solar Power”), and Dua Lipa (“Radical Optimism”) producing some of their least discussed work. If there’s any narrative that’s formed around them, it’s fans asking, “What were they thinking?” These records do have defenders (myself included), but all of them are at best awaiting reconsideration.
The third album is usually the most interesting moment in an artist’s career because it does feel like something greater starts to emerge. Fame has set in and everything that could be done has been done to establish a voice. It only feels right that cabin fever sets in and a total reset needs to happen. These records are messy, misunderstood, and ideally very personal. It makes failure more bittersweet, especially in cases like Lorde finding her inner peace and creating one of the most subversively melancholic coming of age records of the 2020s. Without the third album hitting different, I don’t think most could creatively cleanse themselves for the long run.
Nobody understood that better than Billie Eilish, who at 22 has achieved the burdensome honor of being the voice of Gen-Z. Her entire career has been under scrutiny since her Grammy-winning debut remixed the definition of pop star and encouraged Top 40 to wear their hearts on their sleeves. With brother/producer Finneas at her side, they have had an unprecedented run of things – even more-so following their 2021 album “Happier Than Ever” where they’ve been the subject of an R.J. Cutler documentary and won consecutive Oscars for Best Original Song. As one of the first winners born in the 21st century, it’s clear that pressure is on for her to deliver something magnificent each time out.
And so this past week “Hit Me Hard and Soft” dropped to immediate fanfare. At a well-rounded 10 tracks, it was a chance to have everyone discover her work at the same time. Without a lead single to create bias, listeners were dropped into the familiar well of dark, moody pop that found her growing more personal with her confessional lyrics. Finneas’ time orchestrating for cinema shined on several tracks as many featured elaborate sonic pallets that added a new oceanic atmosphere. At its core, this record is uniquely playful in the way that the previous two were. As the title suggests, it’s a contrast between textures with either hard lyrics over soft beats or vice versa. It’s the type of record that feels anathema to modern sensibilities and yet is likely to redefine the medium yet again…
Which is all to say that I have been having trouble understanding why it hasn’t clicked with me. After several listens and reading meaningful analysis, there is something about “Hit Me Hard and Soft” where I’m not as immediately immersed in every track. My initial response was that it was the type of record that would take months to fully appreciate. Even if that’s true, the immediate love baffles me because the record feels intentionally beguiling. It’s the type of arms-length experience that is asking me to observe from afar, waiting for something interpretive to make me comprehend what she is going for.
To provide some context, I am someone who loves “Happier Than Ever.” It is one of my favorite pop records of the 2020s. Relistening to it this weekend, I found the playfulness to still be exciting. Even if it was too redundant with insider baseball criticisms, there was a sense of Eilish commenting on parasocial relationships of artist and press. It’s some of Finneas’ finest moments as a producer, and the title track is this perfect blend of soft ukulele going into power ballad. The record is so personal that it ends with a shaggy tune about Eilish coping with life while watching porn before suggesting she’s going back to therapy.
Don’t get me wrong. I love how unexpected “Hit Me Hard and Soft” is comparatively. When many artists are chasing trends to stay relevant, Eilish is following her own muse. Hearing somebody want to make elaborate multi-part opuses like “L’amour De Ma Vie” that shifts between genres and tones is brilliant. I love the idea of “The Diner” being closer to a short story where she embodies a stalker over one of Finneas’ most demented beats in years. So much of this album is alive with detail in its own right, and I think it’s genius how everything centers around “The Greatest” and that “Blue” conceptually ties everything together. There’s no denying that this is a whole package listen.
I think a large part of it may just be that Eilish at this point has covered a lot of similar ground on music that I deem more interesting. She has been doing the hushed, muted singing style for so long that while “Skinny” works as an introspective start, I’m left thinking that “Getting Older” spoke more directly to the audience. “Skinny” does continue the paradoxical nature of dysmorphia and how the press has caused a complicated relationship to her body. It has some optimism as she declares loving her old self even if she seems happier now. It’s simple and to the point, making you believe that things will get better from here. It’s recognizing that, like art, everything progresses from the past and it’s important to appreciate the mistakes with the triumphs.
The one angle of the album that is especially refreshing can be found on the second track “Lunch.” After accusations of queerbaiting and hiding her sexuality, Eilish finally announced that she was queer. It could be read in the subtext of several songs, but here it becomes the central point as she declares “I could eat that girl for lunch.” Given that it’s the most Top 40 ready track on the entire album, it’s amazing how risqué it comes across. After years of singing about anxiety and depression, it’s a revelation to hear her sing in the same hushed tone about something more upbeat. The way she sings bashfully about her “taking pictures in the mirror” is the most sensual she’s ever been. The whole thing plays like a personal story she’s telling a friend, holding back a joyous laugh because of how thrilled she is.
This moment is such a revelation on the album that it’s maybe why I struggle to immediately love the rest. “Lunch” feels new for Eilish. It’s presenting something that feels alive. She has never been this happy. Given the subtext of “Skinny” being self-acceptance and growth, there’s a part of me that was hoping that the record would be more celebratory. After years of being in the dark recesses of her mind, this was her finally discovering love. From the first listen, “Lunch” is asking to be inescapable. Maybe it’s because it has the infectiousness of a Sprite commercial or that the direct queerness mixed with that euphemistic chorus is an overdue anthem to rival Rina Sawayama or Chappel Roan. So much is going on that may seem vapid but predicts a more exciting era for radio ready pop.
And yet, I can’t honestly say that this moment is repeated on the album. For as many beat changes as Finneas throws into the mix, this is more a detour than a reset. Where I want to hear Eilish embrace a joyous start to her 20s, she immediately pivots back into the familiar. That isn’t to say that she’s awful at it. “Chihiro” features her being just as vocally exciting as ever. However, by “Birds of a Feather,” there is a spin on morbid lyrics that brings us back to where she’s always been. Even if there’s something about these songs that can suggest queerness, they’re more subdued as she emphasizes break-ups and frustrations with life. Eilish may be happier than ever in being her authentic self, but she’s not above subversively singing over a jaunty melody about rotting in a grave.
Another thing that may reflect apprehension is that a word that I kept wanting to apply to this record is “pastiche.” For songs like “Billie Bossa Nova,” I was able to hear her compliment different genres of music. While she soars on the ballads with convincing earnestness, I think that tracks like “Bittersuite” experiment in ways that feel novelty. Without a new direction of lyrics, she’s unable to make something that feels innovative. It also doesn’t help that several of the tracks in the back half have so many beat switches that they blur together, never forming enough singularity to make them memorable. Like the album cover suggests, this is an ocean of sound that can be thrilling at times, but recalling a lot of the more swirling elements proves difficult. There’s no button for the audience to come away with.
The style shift translates as novelty. Without a clear awareness of what this record is trying to do, I’m often left cold by what it’s doing. At most I’m left recognizing artists who used electropop and jazz elements better. I hear so much Laufey on this that I hope she’s thanked in the liner notes.
This record is presenting something so subversive and new that I think I’m still disappointed about what it’s not. Lyrically, there’s not as many lines resonating in the back of my mind. Musically, I’m hearing pastiche over something more authentic. Eilish and Finneas may not be phoning it in, but the experimentation feels dissonant. They say that there’s a larger picture, but I haven’t seen it yet. I’m waiting for any sense of permanence to emerge from this album because outside of “Lunch,” there hasn’t been a song that lingers.
With that said, I do admire how personal this record is. Eilish has yet to compromise for anybody and I could only wish pop could be as discordant as this. If everybody came with their own sound, the radio would be a lot more interesting. It’s clear that she’s pulling from a lot of different inspirations and Finneas has only figured out new ways to compliment her harmonies. By 22, she has already found ways to become the innovative new pop star without having to comply.
I’m curious to see how time treats this album. While there’s immediate praise from audiences, what will the opinion be as things settle down and it becomes just another record in her catalog. As someone who loves Lorde’s “Solar Power,” I am willing to believe that some things just take time to appreciate. Maybe I brought too many expectations to “Hit Me Hard and Soft” and found my lack of surprise at its innovation to be a synonym for “disappointment.” Then again, I think it’s another case of how nothing that follows an album you love can ever match that personal attachment. Still, will this be a case where I come around to Eilish’s latest after a few dozen listens, or will everyone just call it overrated? It still astounds me that a record this beguiling has been praised this much, but that just speaks to how much I see this record like many see “Solar Power.” It’s new and different. Maybe you get it and maybe you don’t. That’s fine. Art is subjective.
In closing, I want to suggest that this is still a really good record. Every listen felt transformative. As someone who listens to film scores regularly, Finneas’ craft is sublime at points and often works as this larger soundscape. I love how many minutes are just instrumentation floating across the music, allowing the listener to meditate on what they just heard. I think it’s just missing something that I haven’t solved. It’s too muted and understated for my liking. Do I want it to be happier or crazier? I want something, but then again would I just hate Eilish for doing “Happier Than Ever 2”? That, dear reader, is the conundrum of the third album. It’s best just to go along for the ride. It may be bumpy, but it’s better than not feeling anything.
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