On her second album, Billie Eilish sings with unsparing honesty about her rapid ascent to stardom and all its accompanying horrors. It’s woozy, effortlessly melodic, and showcases her command over the pop landscape.

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In March of 2020, Billie Eilish began incorporating a short film titled “Not My Responsibility” into her concerts. The shadowy four-minute clip shows Eilish slowly taking off her clothing and submerging into a slick pool of black goop, soundtracked by a spoken-word monologue about the body-shaming she faced as the most visible teenage girl on the planet. Since the release of her offbeat, gothy, Grammy-sweeping debut When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go? one year prior, Eilish had become the media’s new favorite specimen to dissect. Specifically, her body, which Eilish often concealed beneath loud, oversized outfits. Some members of the peanut gallery applauded what they saw as a feminist refusal to be sexualized, a “body positivity” narrative that often bordered on slut-shaming women who choose to dress differently. All Eilish could do was try her best not to let it get to her. “So while I feel your stares, your disapproval or your sigh of relief,” she murmurs on “Not My Responsibility,” “If I lived by them, I’d never be able to move.”
The clip was an imperial mic drop. Unfortunately, “Not My Responsibility” played at only three concerts before the coronavirusoutbreak canceled her tour and sent Eilish back home to Los Angeles. Eilish and Finneas—her brother, producer, and co-writer—hadn’t planned to make a record during quarantine. But their mother encouraged them to establish a casual writing routine at Finneas’ home studio—a nice upgrade from their previous workspace, Finneas’ childhood bedroom—and the songs that form Eilish’s second album, Happier Than Ever, naturally started taking shape.

光鲜亮丽

勉强过关

The tears that dampen Eilish’s cheeks on the cover suggest that the album’s title is more a dream than a reality. On Happier Than Ever, the newly bleached-blonde 19-year-old sifts through the rubble of an ascent so life-altering and littered with landmines that her teenage idol, Justin Bieber, once broke down crying with worry for her. From the jump, there’s a palpable sense of longing for simpler times. “Things I once enjoyed just keep me employed now,” she wearily croons on the album opener “Getting Older.”
The reality of a pop star is so inherently surreal that it often borders on fantasy, but Eilish’s music has never worn tiny, rose-tinted sunglasses: Her debut’s frank exploration of mental health, addiction, and self-harm had concerned parents wringing their hands while their children rejoiced at a pop star being weird and depressed just like them. Happier Than Ever is full of admissions, plainly sung, with very little left between the lines. The things Eilish knows now are stalkers roaming her neighborhood, lovers who need to sign nondisclosure agreements, and strangers poring over paparazzi shots of her body. She doesn’t pretend that these problems are relatable, but she does know that they are just more extreme versions of concerns that plague people young and old: anxiety about how people perceive you, a desire to leave your current life behind, a fear that nothing will ever be normal again.

不错了 总比7.0的sour好吧~_~

Recall, for a minute, the 2020 Grammy Awards. Just before the Album of the Year award was announced, a flustered Eilish—who already had won an armful of statues that evening—mouthed the words, “Please don’t be me.” It was all so much, so fast; she wouldn’t mind one moment out of the spotlight. Happier Than Ever climbs down from the gilded world of fame to offer a candid report from the coming-of-age trenches, where the past is embarrassing, the future feels excruciatingly distant, and the present is simply exhausting. Eilish doesn’t pretend to have it all figured out.

婊叉还是死了

婊叉去世

个人觉得低了，8.0左右