You don’t need to be a caffeine addict to know that even a strong espresso eventually fades. For Carpenter, the “espresso effect” held strong throughout summer 2024, but 2025 presented two choices: take a break to craft equally strong material that would cement her hard-earned reputation, or rush out an album that feels like leftover bits of her previous hit, Short ‘n’ Sweet, hoping to fill the 2025 chart vacuum, where human performers compete against a fictional Korean band created for a Netflix film.
Unfortunately, Carpenter chose the latter. The album, “Man’s Best Friend,” launched amid controversy over her provocative album cover (and the accompanying Rolling Stone photos), which may end up being what people remember most. Even collaborations with top producer Jack Antonoff and standout songwriter Amy Allen can’t fully lift the material. The absence of Julian Bunetta, who produced Carpenter’s two strongest tracks on the previous album—“Espresso” and “Taste”—is more noticeable than it first seemed.
In many ways, the album resembles a minor misstep compared with her previous release, akin to a “just okay” season of “Sex and the City”: Something everyone eventually regrets. This isn’t to say Carpenter has lost her charisma, intrigue or vulnerability. Her ability to adapt to a melody and catchy production shines on tracks like the lead single “Manchild” and “Nobody’s Son,” both of which demonstrate her flexibility to shift style and tone multiple times within a single song without sounding forced.
Yet, unlike her previous album, her sharp edges have few opportunities to land. Most tracks feel like recycled formulas (“We Almost Broke Up Again Last Night” echoes “Please Please Please”) or generic AI-style pop heard every few minutes on Netflix dating reality shows. The musical blandness casts a shadow over the album’s provocative lyrics. Lines meant to be edgy—like those in “Tears”, which are hardly about literal crying—feel like an attempt to mask the music’s lack of originality and variety, which otherwise reads like a blank sheet of paper.
Beyond the age-old debate over sexuality in pop—whether it’s liberation or capitalist provocation—one thing is clear: to be a true Madonna 2.0, Carpenter needs to push boundaries in production, not just in lyrical content.
The album closes with “Goodbye,” where Carpenter collects the fragments of a broken heart and bids farewell in multiple languages. Perhaps this is her way of saying adieu to a formula that once elevated her career—but, ultimately, even a strong espresso can’t be replaced with a teacher’s lounge instant coffee.
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