Controversy is only as good as the album associated with it. Man’s Best Friend caused a stir with just its album cover. Those expecting the music to be as reactive are kidding themselves. Sabrina Carpenter may stir speculation successfully, but there is no deeper mystery to Man’s Best Friend. This is still the pop machine, sleek as ever, and in working order. All a listener can ask for is a solid interpretation of synth-adjacent instrumentals and clever wordplay to disguise the sole message found within this Short ‘n’ Sweet follow-up. At least the keyboards are in place, then. Pop music has lost its edge. At its best, pop music is a searing, sharp and plays to the image of an artist. Manchild did exactly that. A solid and almost furious vocal delivery with light-hearted instrumental splashes to counter a surprise bitterness. Could this be a new step for Carpenter?
It could have been, but she shies away from it and lands on predictable material, for a niche would close off the passing listener. From a Baccara-like moan on Tears to the first line, subtlety is lost on Man’s Best Friend. Listeners should demand more than these eye-rolling comparisons, especially from an artist who caused such controversy in the reveal of her album cover. Songs on the borderline of catchy are not enough. Just barely an improvement on Short ‘n’ Sweet is no improvement at all. Carpenter is lucky eyes and thighs rhyme; such is the point of Tears. Carpenter writes with Garth Marenghi as her influence. Subtext is for cowards. If a listener cannot clearly tell a song is about sex or a broken relationship, then remove it. There’s no excuse for plain writing, not when other pop sensations like Chappell Roan and Charli XCX are writing with, at the very least, a sincerity for their interests. Break-ups for Man’s Best Friend are not what you can learn, but who you can long for.
My Man on Willpower is a song that defines what people were worried about when Carpenter showcased an album cover of her on all fours. Some may view it as a reclamation of sexuality and individualism. That may be true, but the songs featured throughout do not exactly match that embrace of individualism and empowerment. Lazily cobbled together tracks with poor writing and tepid instrumentals, the latter doing some heavy lifting for the one-note messages of Sugar Talking (one person misses another) and We Almost Broke Up Again Last Night (one person nearly misses another). This is one plain extreme, and on the other side if Taylor Swift peddling a soppy style. Carpenter at least has some moments of interest on Man’s Best Friend, it is not all pop decimation. A consistently incredible voice and a few instrumental changes which shift Carpenter away from the pop field and into acoustic country. A bit of an inevitable shift, but one which suits her.
Man’s Best Friend is an interesting record for the wrong reasons. If listeners want to hear sex put to song, then surely, they want a perspective which either challenges their expectations or relates to their experiences. The sickly-sweet sound Carpenter provides appeals to everyone, and thus approaches no specifics which can be picked out as honest moments from her. Carpenter is just a strong-sounding symptom of a wider problem. Chart-toppers are now expecting a listener to project themselves onto the song, to fill in the gaps themselves, instead of putting themselves on the line consistently enough to make a proper connection. The more a listener accepts less, the worse music will get. Tremendous instrumentals and a strong voice are found on Nobody’s Son and Never Getting Laid, though the latter can be understood from title alone.
Expecting anything more than the passive-sounding yet clear anger of Man’s Best Friend was kidding themselves. Conversations around the release, rather than the release itself, are more interesting than the context added by Carpenter’s latest batch of songs. Listeners are now at a tipping point in pop music. Not because of sex as a subject, but because of how poorly it is now written about. Relationships and romance are only as interesting as the writer can make them. Jessie Ware, Jarvis Cocker, and Patsy Cline made careers out of writing about intimacy with an earnestness pop music now lacks. Compare a song like That! Feels Good! to When Did You Get Hot? Both feature an awe for another, but what the latter lacks is what Carpenter has never offered. Intimacy beyond the act. A depth of understanding which stretches further than anger. It’s not the stance which is the problem, but the repetition of it, and how Carpenter trials new genres as a way of keeping Man’s Best Friend fresh.
A step into country music almost feels inevitable given the route of other pop artists. Carpenter is both standing out as an artist who understands what her audiences want, but that is the cardinal sin of songwriting. Never give an audience what they think they want, or else they think they own the songwriter. Man’s Best Friend is what listeners think they want. Depthless pop noise relating to nothing more than being heartbroken when without a partner. Go Go Juice and Don’t Worry I’ll Make You Worry, you’ll have heard before by someone else. It’s nothing special. But does every song need to be special? Man’s Best Friend is a finely pieced together pop album where shallow waters can be splashed around in for a half-hour. It’s pitched as escapism. But is an escape into faux empowerment of any help to those whose lives revolve around the top of the charts? Probably not, but then, Carpenter would be the first to admit this style has worked for her. It still does.
