Olivia Rodrigo, the 20 year-old rockstar and idol, rocketed to success with her debut album Sour in 2021. Her sophomore album, Guts, suggests that her newfound fame and success is not all good; in fact, much of it is painful and deeply unhealthy. Guts is a lush, indulgent portrayal of a young woman’s first experience of worldwide fame as an adult. Its sometimes gritty, punk influenced instrumentals and vocals, paired with Rodrigo’s raging and anguished lyrics, darkly contrasts with the poppier and less preoccupied sound of Sour.
Rodrigo’s first album deals with some of the same themes as Guts: failed relationships; the craving for an unhealthy ex; being young when the smallest mistakes seem to have existential implications. However, Guts takes these classic pop themes and paints a darker picture of them. It’s clear that Rodrigo’s understanding of her relationships is transformed by her sudden stardom; innocuously failed relationships in Sour become exploitative and cruel because of her fame in Guts.
The stunning first track of Guts, “all-american bitch,” opens with an acoustic guitar track that transfers into a high energy pop beat. The sound of the song is as poppy and upbeat as a 2000s Taylor Swift track, yet it’s accompanied with chilling lyrics. The first lines set the eerie tone of much of the album as she sings in a high, sweet voice: “I am light as a feather, stiff as a board.” Then she launches into the electric guitar and drum cacophony as she sings “I forgive and I forget / Got what you can’t resist, I’m a perfect all-american bitch.” Rodrigo sings about her unhealthy willingness to forgive wrongs done to her by ex-partners, a theme that carries on throughout the album.
“all-american bitch” confronts the malleability of the American female pop-star’s character. Rodrigo is forced to be everything. She takes on many identities in “all-american bitch,” calling herself “proper as a Kennedy,” a mother, a machine, making her the “perfect, all-american bitch.” She takes what she’s expected to be and smashes it on the ground, ironically singing about the wholesomeness expected of her as a young woman and a former Disney child star while making the listener confront the sexualization she is forced to bear.
Track two, “bad idea right?” opens with a poppy bassline that gets your head nodding before she introduces the album’s recurring antagonist: an irresistible ex-boyfriend who only wants her for her fame and money. If “all-american bitch” confronts the audience about their ridiculous expectations, “bad idea right?” points a finger directly at one antagonist. “Haven’t heard from you in a couple months / but I’m out right now, and I’m all fucked up,” are the first lines of the track, and she sings them fast, riot grrrl fast, true 90s Britpop fast. The vocals, high and plastic, are dripping with self-mocking awareness as she nearly screams “Yes, I know that he’s my ex, but can’t two people reconnect? / ‘I only see him as a friend,’ the biggest lie I ever said.” The song is hilarious, embarrassing, and painful all in one.
The fun, Britney Spears meets Le Tigre sound and irony of “bad idea right?” becomes ominous as she transitions to “vampire,” where the innocent fun of an ex-partner backslide becomes manipulative and cruel. In “vampire” Rodrigo loses some of the cleverness and wit of the previous tracks. Her vocals are a little too consistent, and the tragedy of the lyrics is jarring after “bad idea right?” The metaphor of the vampire is already an overused one and it tends to beat you over the head with its meaning. “You sunk your teeth into me, oh / Bloodsucker, famefucker” she sings to the rising crescendo of its pop-ballad instrumental. Despite the writing’s drop-off in quality, the thematic contrast between “vampire” and “bad idea right?” still manages to interrogate her listeners and fans, challenging the tabloidic obsession of celebrities and their exes.
The narrative and aesthetic arc of Guts is erratic, and the development of its speaker’s character is hard to discern as it bounces from tragic love song to poppy radio hit. It’s in these undeniably fun, satirical songs that Rodrigo is at her strongest. Songs like “ballad of a homeschool girl” and “get him back” exhibit classic punk percussion with catchy choruses. These songs feel the most unique to Rodrigo and it feels like she is actually having fun creating them. The songwriting is fresh, and Rodrigo manages to throw in some unexpected punchlines.
These songs are weakened by an overall lack of continuity in the album, however, once she moves to the sadder counterpoints in the piece. These slower songs repeat tired metaphors, and feel like a generic reiteration of a thousand pop songs before them. Rodrigo’s punk stuff is steeped in her love for the genre. She is trying to elaborate on punk and move it forward, yet her slow pop songs, in contrast, fall flat. “teenage dream” and “the grudge” feel simultaneously tired, overwrought, and insubstantial.
Some of these songs flicker with promise. “lacy” examines her jealous relationship to another successful, beautiful woman. She laments that Lacy can make her feel this way without trying, and that she doesn’t have any control over it despite her own obvious success. Apart from “all-american bitch” it is likely the most mature track on Guts but it still gets weighed down by simplistic writing.
Guts as a whole struggles to find itself as an album, flipping between juicy pop-punk radio hits, and uninspired tragic love songs. When she’s at her strongest, her vibrating, high energy songs are exciting and enjoyable enough to be listened to over and over on the radio, but the momentum of these songs gets bogged down by the album’s slower, more monotonous pieces. Guts is made by an artist who is still finding herself, but hasn’t settled on a coherent style, and it shows. Rodrigo’s flashes of brilliance, though, make the album worth listening to.
Tate McFadden is the Arts and Culture Editor and Opinion Editor for The Triton.
Correction: This article was updated at 2:45 p.m. on October 24 to add credits.