From her Disney days to her famously cheeky Nonsense outros, Sabrina Carpenter
has carved out a unique space in pop: blending camp, confession and cleverness.
The internet’s favourite heartbreak commentator picks up where her Short n’ Sweet
tour left off, continuing her exploration of vulnerability, sex appeal and sarcasm with
her new album: Man’s Best Friend.
Before the album dropped, its cover did, and the internet had already written its
thesis. One side accused Carpenter of leaning too far into her sexuality and “setting
feminism back”. The other expected a satirical feminist reckoning wrapped in red
lipstick and a sequinned bodysuit. The album is far from a radical manifesto but
delivers something else entirely. Man’s Best Friend is neither regressive nor
revolutionary; it’s a hyper-feminine narrative of what it means to be a 20-something
woman navigating sex, power and emotional burnout in a world that expects you to
look hot while doing it.
Carpenter’s storytelling has always felt personal, as she pleas for her ex to “cry
because it’s over” on Short n Sweet but on Man’s Best Friend, she sharpens that
emotional edge through cynicism and satire. It’s real heartbreak, just with grown-up
consequences that we can all relate to.
Manchild, the album’s sole single, shines as another on-brand satirical track
commenting on Carpenter’s self-documented habit of dating embarrassing men. It
picks up right where Short n’ Sweet’s ‘Please Please Please’ left off, but with more
bite. The eye-roll-inducing line “Why so sexy if so dumb?” feels like a natural
evolution of her earlier, satirical plea: “Well, I have a fun idea, babe – maybe just stay
inside. I know you’re craving some fresh air, but the ceiling fan is so nice!” The shift
from tongue-in-cheek giggles to outright frustration suggests Carpenter has reached
an unapologetic loss of patience with the dating scene.
The chorus further cements Manchild as an anthem of exasperation: “Fuck my life,
won’t you let an innocent woman be?” In a world where the bar for men is on the
floor, Carpenter voices the burnout of constantly managing relationships with
partners who fall painfully short. It encapsulates the exhausting mix of unrealistic
expectations placed on women, paired with the low standards society sets for men
and it’s detriment to society. “If I’m not there, it won’t get done,” she sings, pointing at
the painful dual burden of labour she’s been forced to tolerate. It’s funny, but also
painfully familiar.
This disappointment is echoed in ‘Nobody’s Son’ where Carpenter adopts a frank
attitude, after giving up from the boredom of tedious relationships, admitting “there’s nobody’s son left for me to believe in” as she claims the feeling of heartbreak is all
too “familiar”.
Sabrina Carpenter’s exuberantly sexy disco-pop track ‘Tears’ makes a case for the
saying: never read a book by its cover. At first glance, it might look like a
melodramatic breakup song, but the “tears” in question aren’t emotional. It’s a sex
song, disguised as heartbreak. The line “Assemble a chair from IKEA, I’m like ‘uh’”
makes it clear that emotional maturity and basic decency are the new red roses.
Carpenter told NPR: “We’re getting to a point where we’re just asking for the bare
minimum… but acknowledging it.”
The video for “Tears” doubles down on the camp. Directed by Bardia Zeinali and
featuring Colman Domingo in drag, alongside a cast of trans and drag performers,
it’s a Rocky Horror-style pop fever dream: gothic, glittery, and absurd. More than any
other track, “Tears” captures the album’s ethos: own your sexuality, dramatize it,
laugh at it, and let it be powerful.
Willingness to provoke isn’t new for Carpenter, from the controversy around her
‘Feather’ music video to her ‘Nonsense’ outros and now the Man’s Best Friend cover.
But her ability to toe the line between scandal and charm often lets her navigate
stardom with a heavy wink and get away with it. But, in today’s political climate,
where reproductive rights and bodily autonomy are increasingly under threat, does
Sabrina need to soften the sex? Why should she? Refusing to sanitise your experience to make it more palatable isn’t just bold – it’s a freedom that generations of women fought for.
Man’s Best Friend isn’t the fire-wielding feminist takedown some were hoping for. But
as said in Little Women, just because my dreams are different from yours, it doesn’t
mean they’re unimportant. Sabrina is happy being a sexy, playful pop girlie, and her
sparkly disco-pop sounds good while she’s doing it. It’s not groundbreaking, but it
was never supposed to be. It’s the kind of album you scream-sing into your
hairbrush. And that’s worth something too.
9/10
