Olivia Rodrigo trades guitar for synth on moody new album

Olivia Rodrigo proves her range on You seem pretty sad for a girl so in love, her third album marked by 1990s new wave influences and sophisticated production.

At only 23, Rodrigo has already created pop-punk anthems sung by hundreds of thousands of young people. Now she returns with an album where she trades electric guitar riffs for synthesizers. Parents of teenagers, fans of the 1990s and new wave: what your child is listening to risks greatly pleasing you.

Fini les teenage breakups she so well encapsulated on SOUR and GUTS. You seem pretty sad for a girl so in love is the story of a more mature love, but one that eventually withers and inevitably wounds. A tale of disenchantment announced on the album's opener, drop dead: "The most alive I've ever been/but kiss me and I might drop dead."

What follows are tracks filled with a hope only the start of a relationship can source. Stupid song, which opens the album, stands out — you want to sing it at the top of your lungs from the first listen, the progression is so gripping. Then honeybee and the already-major maggots for brains arrive. On melodies that are a clear inheritance from The Cure, she admits to transforming into a zombie when her lover leaves.

One thing about Olivia Rodrigo: she will never make you feel alone. Love is sometimes embarrassing, as she sang at 20, but it's easier to live through when you can identify with an international star.

Her raw talent shines on the album's second half, where disenchantment sets in, notably on The Cure (here, only the title references the band). The guitar riff echoes Smashing Pumpkins, the sequencing, the vocals — everything lands.

Another gem where influence gives way to achievement: what's wrong with me, featuring Robert Smith. Yes, the legendary voice with blackened eyes from The Cure, who has often praised Rodrigo's talent, as have David Byrne (Talking Heads), Billy Joel and Alanis Morissette. The result is one of our favourite pieces on the album.

On piano, begged and less will please longtime fans. For admirers of her punk side — we count ourselves there — my way and expectations deliver pure catharsis, two gems of release. The 1990s accents (you hear John Maus) remain very present, but it works. You wish for a bit more punk on the album, though, given how she excels in the genre.

Produced and co-written by Dan Nigro, her collaborator from the start, the work ends on cigarette smoke, a long track where wounds heal, not without bitterness. "The memories go dark," she repeats. The final blow of an album we predict a long life for.