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Inspecting Sabrina Carpenter
By Ian Sherry
9/10/2025
On August 29th, 2025, Sabrina Carpenter released Man’s Best Friend. With her first record since reaching the pinnacle of pop stardom, Carpenter solidified an already-hardening opinion in the mind of this music fan.
Sabrina Carpenter is the closest thing American pop music has to a real-life Powerpuff Girl. When most kids are still learning to tie their shoes at the age of 15 (or was that just me?) Carpenter was priming herself for a rise to fame. Her natural mix of sugar, spice, and espresso soon came into contact with the infamous Chemical X (Disney channel), and out burst the perfect pop star, a flawless celebrity figure.
As far as I can tell, and Man’s Best Friend only made me more certain, there’s very little that makes Carpenter’s music special, aside from Carpenter herself. What I mean is this: her tendency towards generic pop-of-the-moment places her performative persona at the center of attention – and what a persona it is.
Carpenter is reportedly a hard worker, and she’s been on a disciplined grind for some time now. Long before Sabrina gained serious notoriety as a singer, clips of her concerts had been surfacing on social media. All of them (speaking for my own algorithm here) showcased her personality via shenanigans, while featuring very few, if any musical moments. That is the Sabrina Carpenter experience. The product is the person performing the piece, not the piece itself. Let’s see what Sabrina is selling us this time around.
First, the producer combination of John Ryan and (who else but) Jack Antonoff ensures a certain style of music. The pop-fitting formula featured by this chart-pounding-paring reliably features drum machine beats that punch up into the midrange, a slew of looped strings which harmonize below the vocals, and a variety of synths that build later in songs to amp up the energy, ornamentation, and sonic abundance (of which there’s never much). Rarely will these albums feature notable session musicians aside from the headlining artist or band members.
That’s why it’s a noticeable gimmick when Carpenter welcomes a fleeting fiddle solo on track 1, “Manchild.” The nod to middle America is a fitting on a tune that begins the album-long painting of a particular brand of mama’s boy. Listen to the record all the way through and you’ll know what I mean. Here are some terms to keep in mind: physical and mental unavailability, weaponized incompetence, emotional immaturity, and resignation. Now let me give you a few of Sabrina Carpenter’s own: “You said your phone was broken, just forgot to charge it - Whole outfit you're wearing, God, I hope it's ironic - Did you just say you're finished? Didn't know we started - It's all just so familiar, baby, what do you call it? Stupid - Or is it slow? Maybe it's useless? But there's a cuter word for it, I know - Man-child.” And now the bridge, “Oh, I like my boys playing hard to get - And I like my men all incompetent - And I swear they choose me, I'm not choosing them.” Suffice to say, it was the lead single for a reason, and it’s not such a bad song either.
Allow me to usher you along to track 5, “We Almost Broke Up Again Last Night.” A pop ballad straight from Swift and Antonoff’s shared California Closet, Carpenter gives us the next best glimpse at her mind in love. The legendary pop pairing's success over recent years has made Antonoff the top-of-mind landing spot for any pop star in search of a producer. Carpenter fits the Swift-formed mold perfectly, but where the two Pennsylvanian Antonoff collaborators differ is their perceivable attitudes ‘in love’. While Taylor Swift believers are often criticized for living in a feminist fantasy land of their mother’s making, Carpenter airs on the side of comedically exasperated realism. Swift has always brought an uplifting, rebellious, independent attitude to her music, even when the subject matter isn’t pleasant. Carpenter does some of those things, but contrasts with the industry titan in what I call her resignation to the bullshit. “Gave me his whole heart, then I gave him (noggin),” is a telling lyric to me. I doubt I’m the first and unfortunately, I won’t be the last to break this news: the average American male (but not just males) doesn’t digest and regurgitate their emotions in a fashion that is conducive to the relationship’s need for empathetic discourse, and the resulting dumping of pent-up emotion can clutter the Love Train’s tracks. Resignation to that, expecting nothing more from an entire gender of the world’s apex species, is a bit disappointing in my mind.
But where are the parents?! That’s what Sabrina Carpenter demands to know on the following track. “Nobody’s Son” is a well-articulated, heartbroken rant that details being dumped by a guy who “discovered self-control this week.” The bridge digs even further into our previous subject matter as she turns the blame (which never seems to quite land on the son in question) onto his mother. “That boy is corrupt – Could you raise him to love me, maybe? He sure fucked me up – And, yes, I’m talkin’ bout your baby.” Maybe it's my sensitivity to the idea of my mom getting blamed for my nonsense, but I couldn’t stop finding issues with this song! I find the poppy orchestral chorus cheap (don’t make me think about Frozen) and the way she jams “emoshnally” into 4 syllables to fit the bar makes my skin crawl (I used a synonym for emotionally a few paragraphs ago - it can be done).
The next track found redemption in my eyes, both in sentiment and sound. “Never Getting Laid” is refreshing; its greater bass presence and restraint with the myriad of strings, which are often uncharacteristically blaring on this record by Antonoff standards, allow for her vocals to float instead of cut through. The dreamy vibe is intentional as it pairs perfectly with the passive aggression Carpenter spitfires with lyrics like “Baby, I'm not angry - Love you just the same - I just hope you get agoraphobia someday - And all your days are sunny -From your windowpane - Wish you a lifetime full of happiness - And a forever of never getting laid.” It even has a sweet lil outro. At least anger is one of the stages of grief (blaming the mother isn’t even bargaining). “Never Getting Laid” for the win.
“When Did You Get Hot?” is next in line. Carpenter goes for an Ariana Grande thing here, but I don’t need this song from anybody.
“Go Go Juice” – not my cup of tea.
“Don’t Worry I’ll Make You Worry” – a snooze.
Luckily, the home stretch kicks off with “House Tour.” This throbbing pop-funk bop has the magic captured at times by late model Justin Timberlake but most prominently by Bruno Mars. Laced with clever wordplay, Carpenter flaunts her world’s best euphemism game as she prances atop the album’s top energy track.
“Goodbye” is the perfect name for a last track! And that’s not the only reason Man’s Best Friend ends on a positive note. This spin on a breakup song features an empowered Carpenter pushing off. She soars atop a triumphant instrumental, nailing the ABBA sound before dipping shamelessly into Sgt. Pepper’s bag of tricks to find her last bridge. It builds, and Carpenter opens up her lungs surrounded by a chorus of herself to put a confident stamp on this final track. How does she sing that well with her tongue in her cheek?
Sabrina Carpenter’s 2025 release is the typically mixed bag major pop labels have standardized over the last 20 years (bring back Brittney). I found her songwriting effective, the album’s narrative easy to follow, and the instrumentals largely underwhelming. I believe that Carpenter makes music to be performed live – it shows in her lyrical designs, the number of verses meant for speak-singing. She is a pop star. She is the product. She knows what she’s doing.
But does she know what she’s doing?
When Sabrina Carpenter showcases sonically bland music before the masses, does she consider that it will be her persona and way of being that is idolized? If Carpenter wanted to sound like ABBA, to pass along one of her beloved influences, she could. She passes along a character. Perfectly acceptable, she’s not the only one, and she’s not near the worst. But what does this character preach? I’ve danced around the edge of enough sensitive subjects; I’m glad to have saved this simple point to close my argument. If it hasn’t already occurred to you, glance at the album cover and think about what that name means.
Sabrina Carpenter won’t be stained by a suggestive album cover, and its nothing in the piles of pseudo-smut the music industry has to offer. Years from now it’ll likely be the felicitous cover of the Bonus Track Edition people click most often. But legacy doesn’t fade. Sabrina Carpenter has control of hers, an opportunity so many women have gone without. With her chance, Betty Davis chose to be a “Nasty Gal,” Chaka Khan chose to be Every Woman, Brittney Spears chose to be “Toxic.” I hope Ms. Carpenter’s final choice is not to be-
Man’s Best Friend is a 6.3.