The buzz around the promotion of the successful singer does not hide the fact that this is a weak album. Despite the ridiculous lyrics, most songs sound like an unconvincing recycling of formulas that already worked, or just like AI pop of the kind heard every five minutes on reality shows. To be Madonna 2.0, it is recommended to push boundaries not just in songwriting about oral sex, but also in the studio.
You don’t need to be a caffeine addict to know that even the strongest espresso eventually fades. In Sabrina Carpenter’s case, the “espresso” effect worked perfectly through summer 2024, but by 2025 she faced two choices: the first was to use her phenomenal success to take a break and develop equally strong material that would cement her status achieved through talent and hard work. The second was to rush and record an album that sounded like leftover portions from the previous successful album, Short ‘n’ Sweet, hoping to capitalize on the 2025 lull in the charts, where real people had to compete with a Korean “band” invented for a Netflix film.
Unfortunately, and not surprisingly, Carpenter chose option B, also known as Man’s Best Friend: an album released amid scandal over the pose on its cover (and also for the Rolling Stone cover), which may be roughly what will be remembered, despite the attempt to recreate the successful collaboration with top producer Jack Antonoff and excellent songwriter Amy Allen. Perhaps the absence of Julian Bonita, who produced the two best songs on the previous album, “Espresso” and Taste, was more significant than it initially seemed. And perhaps, continuing a theme very important to Carpenter, this album compared to the previous one is like what was “just so” for Sex and the City: something everyone ends up regretting.
It is not that Carpenter became less charismatic, interesting, or revealing; her ability to adapt to a decent melody and catchy production appears in full force in songs like Manchild (the lead successful single) and Nobody’s Son. These two tracks show Carpenter’s flexibility as a performer who can change style and tone multiple times within a song without sounding forced or artificial. But this time, unlike the previous album, her sharp edges have almost no place to land, as most songs sound like an unconvincing recycling of previously successful formulas (for example, We Almost Broke Up Again Last Night, which strongly resembles Please Please Please), or just like AI pop heard every five minutes on Netflix dating reality shows.
In fact, the patchy and musically pale nature of Man’s Best Friend casts a double shadow over its lyrical juiciness: the lyrics are so ridiculous that they deserve at least a touch of musical sex appeal, while their absence (except for a song like House Tour, Michael Jackson-style) raises suspicion that the bluntness of some lyrics (how to put this gently? The song Tears is not about tears streaming from the eyes) is meant to cover up the lack of originality and variety in the music, which resembles a blank A4 page. Beyond the long-standing discussion on sexuality in pop symbol of liberation or capitalist provocation which will certainly evolve since Carpenter has fans as young as ten screaming every word, at least artistically one can say: to be Madonna 2.0, it is recommended to push boundaries in the studio, not just in writing about oral sex.
The album ends with the song Goodbye, where Carpenter gathers the pieces of a broken heart and tells the listener to leave in multiple languages. This may also be the time for her to say adios and arrivederci to the formula that lifted her career, but, after all, you can’t replace espresso with instant coffee from the teachers’ lounge.
