Taylor Swift might have been dubbed the queen of break-up songs, but she’s got nothing on Cari Fletcher. Heartache, healing, clandestine make-ups and complicated feelings have saturated pretty much all her discography to date, and the same broken heart bleeds well into the first half of her Girl Of My Dreams.
The frantic opener “Sting” makes an immediate reference to THE S(EX) TAPES, Fletcher's 2020 EP that was made in collaboration with its muse: the ex in question who Fletcher had chosen to quarantine with. Clearly still a fresh wound, there are references to that relationship throughout the album, including the sorrowful speculation of “Birthday Girl” and messy catharsis of “Becky’s So Hot.” Name-dropping your ex’s new girlfriend so publicly is definitely chaotic, but fits with Fletcher's mission to produce “the most honest, raw, and complete representation of the complex and sensitive-ass Pisces that I've always been.”
In its second act, the album looks inward. “I Think I’m Growing?” would have made sense as the album’s finale: short and sweet, set to minimalist production and soaring harmonies. Lyrically, we hear Fletcher confront the self reflection that presumably came from self-isolation. It’s followed up by the title track, where all the insecurity and flaws she just encountered are replaced by a determined sense of self-love. Its bridge follows the likes of Metallica and Halsey in riffing off the “Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep” prayer, and leads into a euphoric final chorus that makes for a clear album highlight. “Guess We Lied…” is another standout - a revamped reproduction of “If You’re Gonna Lie” from her 2019 EP, you ruined new york city for me.
In comparison to these hits there are some misses: “Holiday,” “Serial Heartbreaker,” and “I Love You” - though the latter is charming and melodically reminiscent of Charli XCX’s “Gone” - are all at risk of obscurity. However, the actual closing song (aptly titled “For Cari”) is an undeniable triumph, and embodies all that this record set out to achieve. Raising a toast to herself, Fletcher concludes that nobody’s love can compare to her own.
