Madison Beer has spent much of her career being underestimated, written off as an influencer-adjacent pop star, praised faintly for singles but rarely credited for her artistry as a whole. Locket, her third album, should finally put that misconception to rest. It’s a deeply introspective, emotionally cohesive body of work that rewards close listening, offering some of the most tender, self-aware pop music of her career.
Beer has described Locket as a collection of songs kept safely in a metaphorical locket, “moments preserved, sealed away once released into the world.” That framing feels apt. This album isn’t about spectacle or chart-chasing; it’s about emotional preservation, about documenting vulnerability before closing the chapter and moving forward. Each track feels carefully held, deliberate, and personal, as if she’s letting listeners peer inside something fragile and private.
The album opens listeners up gradually, often lulling them into a false sense of sonic familiarity before revealing its emotional depth. Tracks like “Make You Mine” – the album’s lead single released nearly two years prior – and “Yes Baby” lean into high-energy electro-pop, infusing EDM, house, and lo-fi beats with understated rave-like choruses. They’re effective, accessible, and catchy, but in hindsight, they function almost as decoys. Locket is far more intimate than these tracks initially suggest.
That intimacy comes into focus with “Angel Wings,” a mid-tempo R&B-inspired track that nods to late-90s and early-2000s influences. Built around an instantly memorable chorus – “It’s easier pretending you have angel wings” – the song plays knowingly with the falling-for-the-bad-boy trope before unraveling into a darker, heavier electronic breakdown. It’s playful on the surface, but quietly cynical underneath, capturing the emotional bargaining that often accompanies desire.
“For the Night” is one of the album’s most striking moments. With soft guitar strumming, lush layered vocals, gentle piano, and a sultry, almost bossa nova-like looseness, it recalls the whispered intimacy of Billie Eilish’s vocal stylings while still feeling unmistakably Madison Beer. Lyrically, it’s devastating in its honesty: “I don’t wanna be like this forever, maybe you can put me back together.” It’s a song about self-awareness without self-protection – about knowingly allowing yourself to be taken advantage of, if only briefly. Jazz-tinged and emotionally bare, it’s one of Beer’s most mature performances to date.
That emotional throughline continues with “Healthy Habit,” a mid-tempo pop song whose title drips with irony. The track dissects the self-deception of repeatedly returning to something harmful simply because it feels familiar. Lines like “I wonder if it’s worth doing again” capture the exhausting push-and-pull of attachment with painful clarity. It’s deceptively catchy, but its real power lies in how accurately it articulates emotional relapse.
The album’s core ache is perhaps best expressed on “You’re Still Everything,” a soft, occasionally auto-tuned love song that brings to mind the tender melancholy of Ariana Grande’s Eternal Sunshine. Sweet but quietly devastating, the song centers on emotional invisibility: “I only exist in the moments you’re talking to me.” It’s about loving someone completely – even when that love is unreciprocated – and asking the question that lingers long after the song ends: “How am I nothing to you?”
That sense of bittersweet reckoning reaches its peak on “Complexity,” one of Locket’s standout tracks. Beginning ethereal and slowly evolving into a melancholic electronica-pop fusion, it revolves around a piercing central line: “How can I expect you to love me when you don’t even love yourself?” It’s a moment of clarity rather than confrontation, recognition instead of blame, and it encapsulates the emotional intelligence that runs throughout the album.
“Bittersweet,” the LP’s third single, feels like the truest sonic representation of Locket as a whole. Vulnerable yet sharp, reflective without being self-pitying, it lands one of the album’s most quietly triumphant lines: “One day I’ll wake up sad, but go to bed so glad, knowing you know what you could’ve had.” It’s not revenge. It’s emotional closure.
Stylistically, the album sits comfortably in the space between Ariana Grande’s intimacy and Sabrina Carpenter’s conversational honesty, but it never feels derivative. Instead, Beer distills those influences into something uniquely hers – softer, sadder, more inward-looking. While much of mainstream pop currently favors maximalism or spectacle, Locket thrives in restraint; a reminder that some of the most compelling pop music is happening just outside the spotlight.
Beer has been delivering strong, reflective, emotionally precise pop music for years – often without the recognition it deserves. Locket may not be loud, but it lingers. It’s the work of an artist fully in command of her voice, her vulnerability, and her growth. If listeners are willing to lean in, they may discover that one of pop’s most underrated artists has quietly made one of its most affecting albums.
FOUR AND A HALF STARS (OUT OF FIVE)
Locket is now available through Epic Records and Sing It Loud.
