Gracie Abrams pours every emotion into ‘The Secret Of Us’

Rushing into your friend’s bedroom, a story bursting from your lips, its glorious yet embarrassing details reverberating around the room, whilst your friend sits there with an expression that is equal parts shock as it is bemusement and support, is a precious moment. The physical distance between you and your friend the blank page in a journal, your soundwaves the ink unfurling across it. It is a moment of frenzied confession, infused with a level of honesty, and insanity, that only a true best friend could extract.

Gracie Abrams agrees. In her sophomore record, The Secret Of Us, Abrams invites us in, not to sit in silence on the floor of a dim room, leafing through the tear-stained pages of a diary whilst smudgy, self-lamenting admissions about failed relationships materialise, à la Good Riddance, but instead to share in 47 minutes of that friend-fuelled, secret-spilling, precious melodrama.

If The Secret Of Us is one thing, it is an ode to the trials and tribulations that being 20-something brings

No better is this essence captured than in the lead single, ‘Risk’. As folky guitar canters alongside Abrams’ love-drunk confessions, breaking into a gallop to keep pace with her urgency, we gain a glimpse into the singer-songwriter’s inner world. It is one furnished with desperation and decorated with a hopefulness only delusion can provide: “God, I’m actually invested / Haven’t even met him / Watch this be the wrong thing, classic.”

It’s the type of confession that causes a best friend to raise their eyebrows and shake their head in loving disapproval. It is also the type of confession we could each see ourselves making.

Because if The Secret Of Us is one thing, it is an ode to the trials and tribulations that being 20-something brings. In between the layers of rustic guitar and sonic anguish, that are trademark not just to Abrams but to her idol and friend, Taylor Swift – who features on ‘Us’ – lies an all-encompassing relatability. By holding up a mirror to assess her shadowy side, Abrams inadvertently shows us our own.

Candid portrayals of jealousy (‘Blowing Smoke’) jostle with defensive indifference (‘Tough Love’) as Abrams traces the well-known, if meandering, path of healing, heartbreak, and healing again. Observant, Abrams laces detail into every track. A pair of shoes carelessly tossed to the side of a bed sketch the outline of a pretentious past lover; the train ride to Boston maps out a future bright with possibility. Having emerged from the fog of Good Riddance, Abrams’ vision is crystalline. Her storytelling, intimate.

Which is only magnified by the understated touch of producer and co-writer, Aaron Dressner. Through artfully arranged layers of velvet harmonies, electronic drumbeats, and rolling acoustic guitar, Abrams is given the space she needs to explore these narratives with sensitivity and depth.

It is when Abrams lets go of all restraint that she shines her brightest on The Secret Of Us

And yet, it is when Abrams lets go of all restraint that she shines her brightest on The Secret Of Us. As the epiphanies flow, Abrams cascades over the edge of control and into the brilliant bridges of each song. Like a shot of espresso, these bridges, from ‘I Love You, I’m Sorry’ to ‘Let It Happen’, inject an anxious energy into the record. From those promising first dates with “the one” – “I might barely know you, but still / Don’t love you yet, but probably will” – to the agonising realisation that they were just “another one” – “Get my shit together, it’s whatever / But I could die” – Abrams unleashes an emotional downpour that is reflective of the drama playing out in our own minds.

This is, of course, no accident. Whilst the scenes of the record rely on the backdrop of Abrams own experiences, and do so intimately, she is careful never to get too close to the character in question. Razor-sharp descriptions are wrapped in a shroud of haze; a mysterious ‘you’ to which all of the songs are addressed never materialises further than an outline. In doing so, Abrams allows us to fill in the blanks, handing over the reins so that we may manipulate the shadows into the well-known contours of those individuals from our own stories. And so, The Secret Of Us is less a recording of Abrams’ secrets and more a rendition of our own.

Voicing the voiceless in this way is difficult. It is brave. It is why the secret thoughts hanging in our minds remain there, with only our closest friends able to tease them out. But, here, for Gracie Abrams, between carefully considered lyrics and mellow guitar, lies the perfect opportunity to spiral. And luckily for us, we get to enjoy the sonic reflection of our inner monologues.

★★★★

Recommended Listening: ‘Let It Happen’, ‘Tough Love’