Sour

Olivia Rodrigo turned a teenager's breakup into an argument about how loud that hurt is allowed to get, and the record refuses to lower its voice.

"good 4 u" detonates with the sneering guitars of a pop-punk kid who grew up on the radio, then "drivers license" strands you at a suburban intersection with a bridge that stacks her own voice into a choir of accusation. What keeps this from being a diary set to music is how carefully she tracks the ugly feelings — the petty envy scrolling past her in "jealousy, jealousy," the self-blame she can't put down in "enough for you." She names the exact make of a car and the exact week a fantasy fell apart, and the specificity is what makes it land as more than mood. The album proved a debut could open screaming and still be believed.