Since releasing her first independent album in 2018, Madison Beer has found global success by etching the universal themes of hardship and resilience into the fabric of every song she pens. However, Beer has failed to have a clear mainstream pop album breakout like her contemporaries Tate McRae and Sabrina Carpenter, despite her similar sound and production style. Now, with her third studio album, “locket,” released on Jan. 16, Beer continues her trend of vulnerable songwriting by unlocking her emotions for listeners in a record that will revolutionize Beer’s future career trajectory. Through providing the world a glimpse into her insecurities as she dissects complex feelings of sorrow and surmounts trauma, Beer secures her place in pop as a force to be reckoned with.
The record opens with the glittering synths and angelic vocal ad-libs of “locket theme,” lifting listeners into a serene dreamscape. Beer begins the album by reflecting on a recent heartbreak, a recurring motif throughout her discography. However, rather than harping on the past, Beer reveals her personal epiphany that closure comes from within and that moving on is a self-led journey. Ornate lyrics and crystal-clear violin chords frame this realization as Beer seals her secrets, mistakes and insecurities inside the image of a locket: “My protection’s so divine and now I see (I see) / Pain on a necklace, set it down, I’m weightless / Everything that I could ever need is within me,” Beer sings. “locket theme” is musically simple, yet ends triumphantly with Beer evoking operatic vocal tones and successfully displaying her as dominant rather than meek.
The subsequent tracks, “yes baby” and “angel wings,” showcase Beer’s quiet yet consistent strength in the face of hardship. Dim vocals float over an electric pop background, and Beer’s voice pulses like a heartbeat on “yes baby.” Here, Beer reclaims and embraces her sexuality and power, recognizing her self-worth with a tender, wistful force. On “angel wings,” Beer encourages her listeners to revel in the complexities of their own relationships, noting that people can seem like angels at one moment and present insurmountable challenges in the next. While these tracks add cohesively to the work, they are too simple to add anything meaningful to Beer’s discography, unlike “locket theme.” For tracks that are oriented earlier on in the album’s run, they weigh heavily on the rest of an otherwise fascinating breakthrough for Beer.
Fortunately, “locket” regains its strength on one of its most memorable tracks, “you’re still everything,” which finds Beer lamenting about a feeling of bleak emptiness from a love foregone on the record’s climactic ballad. The combination of yearning lyrics and distant, heartfelt piano notes solidifies this track as Beer’s premier melancholic masterpiece. In a similar vein as “Reckless” (2021) and “Good in Goodbye” (2020), she is lethally transparent. However, “you’re still everything” stops the listener in their tracks with brooding harmonies superior to any power ballad she has produced thus far. Beer is explicit and sincere in her feelings, acknowledging the nonlinear path of moving on from heartbreak: “How am I nothing to you, while you’re still everything to me?” Beer sings. The sentimental soliloquy encapsulates the kind of hushed pain Beer hopes to heal from.
As the titular oxymoron suggests, Beer revels in contrasting feelings on “bittersweet.” The song’s vocals oscillate between whistle tones and vibrato, with the track closing with a final chorus that feels like a grand act of self-forgiveness. On “bittersweet,” Beer brings listeners close to her heart and encourages them to revel in self-growth: “I lay awake thinkin’, ‘How did I let you go?’ / Gettin’ away unscathed for so damn long / I got away, took my time, I’m okay alone,” Beer sings. “bittersweet” is a sonic breakthrough for Beer, who has previously struggled in writing compelling hooks. Between clever lyricism and experimental electric pop sounds, Beer takes a leap of faith that is well worth the risk, considering “bittersweet” is her first track to chart on the Billboard Hot 100.
On “complexity,” Beer turns “baggage” into “beauty” and speaks strongly to a partner who previously made her feel weak and unloved. This core practice of surmounting life’s complications through deep introspection follows Beer to the album’s final track, “nothing at all.” This conclusion flawlessly reflects Beer’s fears of fleeting love and the uncertainties of forever: “I’m afraid of getting better / I’m afraid it gets too good / ’Cause it can’t last forever / Even though I wish it could,” Beer sings. While growing up and leaving youth behind is often unnerving, Beer urges listeners to rejoice in defiance of an unsettling future in this hyperpop song.
On “locket,” Beer provides a conclusion to the pain that haunted her previous records. On her extended play, “As She Pleases” (2018), Beer lost her childlike innocence, and on “Life Support” (2021), she contemplated personal grief and on “Silence Between Songs” (2023), she experimented with jazz and electronic pop influences to guide her path to healing. In her past records, Beer struggled to find the words to illustrate her pain, but on “locket,” Beer not only defines it but discovers relief in understanding her complex feelings: This makes “locket” a particularly special addition to Beer’s discography.
With “locket,” Beer reframes her past albums’ themes of heartbreak, sorrow and disenchantment by presenting the beauty in shedding the pain of her past. “locket” is cohesive where it is discordant, it is complex where it is simple, it is haunting where it is enchanting. This contrasting nature reflects Beer’s ardent pursuit of pop excellence — a quest she graces breathtakingly throughout “locket.” She memorializes the self-doubt, missteps and difficult ordeals of her youth while cherishing her inner child and treasuring the mixed emotions that mark her memories. She engraves and remembers these complex feelings as if they are a locket forever around her neck, a talisman that she proudly wears.
Jacob Muscolino (he/him) (28C) is a News Editor at The Emory Wheel. He is from Long Island and plans to major in History and Psychology. Outside of the Wheel, he is involved in Emory Reads and Emory Economics Review. You can often find Jacob watching the newest blockbuster for his Letterboxd, dissecting The New York Times and traveling to the next destination on his bucket list.
