Like many people, I could not have cared less for Sabrina Carpenter until last summer. The tongue-in-cheek lyrics and catchy tunes of “Short n’ Sweet” revived my interest in pop music, and since then, I waited with anticipation for her next album.
Said album, sarcastically titled “Man’s Best Friend,” received ambivalent responses from audiences on top of its summer of controversy.
“‘Man’s Best Friend’ has all the hallmarks of a rush job: lyrical conceits that aren’t fully fleshed out, vocals that get crammed into prefab melodies, a repetition of themes that suggests a single idea viewed from multiple angles,” stated Jon Caramanica in a New York Times article.
Across social media platforms like Instagram and YouTube, listeners dismissed the album as less engaging than Carpenter’s previous releases, arguing it didn’t have any stand-out hits.
I was shocked at this lackluster response. As soon as I finished the album, I knew “Man’s Best Friend” was a remarkable improvement over last year’s “Short n’ Sweet.”
Through clever lyricism and metaphor — despite Carpenter cheekily denying any use of metaphor in one of my favorite tracks, “House Tour” — Carpenter’s second mainstream album tells the story of a woman who portrays herself as confident and self-assured, yet finds herself pursuing self-destructive sexual relationships with incompetent men.
Similar to Carpenter’s previous release, “Man’s Best Friend” has its share of trademark sexually empowering tracks such as “House Tour” and “When Did You Get Hot?”
These tracks are more one-dimensional tunes that contrast with “Go-Go Juice” and “We Almost Broke Up Again Last Night.” The latter songs, though sounding drastically different from each other, deal with the narrator’s lack of self-restraint, inexplicably staying loyal to men she’s unhappy with.
“And on the days I’m a little much / That’s when I tell him how sweet he treats me / And how no other boys compete,” Carpenter sings in the second verse of “We Almost Broke Up Again Last Night.”
Though much of Carpenter’s persona has been characterized by hyper-confidence and sensuality, lyrics like these illustrate that her confidence is ultimately superficial. The narrator panics at the thought of the relationship ending, defaulting to lying to continue a façade of loyalty.
The thematic complexity of “Man’s Best Friend” is only a small factor in its superiority to “Short n’ Sweet.” A large part of why I found myself drawn to this album above its predecessor is its compelling combination of country and diverse retro influences.
Carpenter perfectly balances songs like “Manchild” — a fun, catchy, country-driven song that expands upon the southern twang hinted at in “Short n’Sweet” — with songs like “Tears” and “Goodbye,” influenced by ABBA, Janet Jackson and the Bee Gees.
This eclectic yet enthralling mix of genres is especially refreshing in comparison to “Short n’ Sweet,” which, while being an undeniably great pop album, did have its share of generic, easily skippable tracks.
No single song sounds like another in “Man’s Best Friend,” yet each one fits perfectly in Carpenter’s story of self-destruction, codependency and ultimate self-acceptance.
“You used to love my ass now baby / You won’t see it anymore,” Carpenter sings in the closing track, “Goodbye.”
The album ends with a stark contrast to its beginning in “Manchild,” where Carpenter insists that she doesn’t choose her partners, yet mysteriously keeps returning to the same destructive relationships.
The primary complaint that I saw amongst fans of Carpenter is, essentially, that this album is not another “Short n’ Sweet.”
I would counter that it is far more commendable for an artist to break outside of what made them initially popular and disrupt the audience’s expectations than to continually replicate the same magic formula.
“You might have to pay attention a bit more,” Carpenter said in an Apple Music interview.
While no music is for everyone, my hope is that fans of “Short n’ Sweet” will pay a bit more attention to “Man’s Best Friend” and find its gems.
