Sabrina Carpenter’s “Man’s Best Friend” is lots of fun, and I will not dispute that. It is playful, catchy, catty and tailor-made for blasting with your girls after a breakup or at a bachelorette party. However, as I made my way through the album, I found myself asking the inevitable question: Why this album, and why now? Does every album need to have a deeper metaphorical meaning? Or can music simply exist to be fun and entertaining?
This tension is the core of my reaction to the album. My biggest concern is whether this project is the art Carpenter wants to be making or just a commercial cash-grab. When an artist is in a breakthrough moment, as Carpenter is right now, the hope is that they take a new step, something that signals growth and experimentation. However, “Man’s Best Friend” does nothing new. Stylistically, it feels identical to “Short n’ Sweet,” Carpenter’s previous release. The production, lyricism and the overarching messages of one are nearly indistinguishable from the other. Every new track on this album could easily slot into its predecessor without anyone blinking, which, to me, is the core of the issue. Because “Man’s Best Friend” came so soon after the massive success of “Short n’ Sweet,” the release feels less like a carefully curated artistic statement and more like a shallow attempt to capitalize on momentum. If that’s the case, these songs may as well have been released as a deluxe edition of the previous album.
This brings me to a bigger question: Do artists really need to reinvent the wheel every time they release something new? Is it enough to stick with what works? Abiding by a winning formula has worked for countless musicians, and pop music thrives on consistency. Take Beyoncé’s “Cowboy Carter,” for example. It is not creating something completely from scratch, yet all of the elements — even the callbacks, covers and samples — feel crafted with an undeniable sense of purpose and deeper motivation. Every track on “Cowboy Carter” feels deliberate; the album’s intentionality proves that fun music can still be thoughtful.
Personally, my issue isn’t that Carpenter recycled her formula; it’s that this album lacks intention. It plays like she tossed together the first 12 songs she ever wrote and wrapped them with a pretty bow because she assumes her fans will stream anything she releases — not that she’s not wrong about this, either. The lack of a clear narrative or evolution in her oeuvre makes the project feel rushed. It’s as though she had little faith in her audience’s desire for more than just surface-level fun.
Still, there is no denying that the songs themselves are enjoyable. Her strength has always been her sharp lyricism and this album is packed with clever turns of phrase and audacious delivery. The ad-libs do their job perfectly — they’re playful without being overbearing and they add just the right amount of personality to keep things lighthearted without slipping into childishness.
Certain tracks stand out above the rest. “Nobody’s Son” has my favorite melody: it is catchy and relatable, with an infectious hook that lingers in your head long after the song comes to an end. “Go Go Juice” is another standout, with a premise clearly aimed at a young audience. It perfectly captures the all-too-familiar experience of dialing someone you really shouldn’t after a few drinks.
In the end, “Man’s Best Friend” succeeds as a collection of enjoyable songs, but, as an album and an artistic statement, it is underwhelming. Carpenter is too talented to be releasing work that feels rushed and unintentional. The piece is undeniably fun, but fun does not have to come at the expense of thoughtfulness. Listening to the album, I cannot help but wish that Carpenter trusted her fans enough to give them both.
