On sophomore album Sweetness, Atlanta-based singer-songwriter Becca Harvey—better known as girlpuppy—steps boldly into the center of her own story. Where 2022’s When I’m Alone leaned on the textured haze of indie-folk and pop melodies written in collaboration, Sweetness is unmistakably her voice—raw, diaristic, and unflinchingly personal.
Written in the aftermath of a four-year relationship, Sweetness isn’t a traditional breakup album. It’s more like a coming-of-age record for someone who already came of age once, only to realize they still had more growing to do.
The album’s title is both a nickname and an ironic wink: there’s a lot of sugar here, yes, but it coats a knife. Across ten tracks, Harvey explores grief, guilt, and the longing that lingers like perfume on an old hoodie. But she also reclaims her own agency—vocally, emotionally, sonically. In a recent Rolling Stone feature, she discussed how the process of making Sweetness was a reset. No longer working in the shadow of collaborators, Harvey built these songs from her own melodies and words first, a creative reversal that opened the door for an album brimming with cathartic honesty.
Opener “Intro” sets the scene like the first shot of a Sofia Coppola film: dreamy piano, ghostly vocals, a cinematic blur of memory. Then “I Just Do!” crashes in with a jolt of adolescent confession, pop-rock guitars, and the kind of hook that gets scrawled in a diary margin—“I like you. I just do.” Its music video features vampire fangs, day-glo bedrooms, and a boy who’s already with someone else. It’s classic girlpuppy: playful, a little tragic, and deeply self-aware.
That duality—bittersweetness, if you will—powers the heart of the record. Take “Champ,” a fuzzy alt-rock anthem that opens with a punch and doesn’t let up. Harvey’s vocals ride waves of distorted guitars as she pleads, “I just wanna be your champion,” a line that reads like both battle cry and breakdown. She captures the desperation of clinging to a fading friendship or relationship, even when it makes you feel small. The boxing-themed video is cheeky and dramatic, placing “girlpuppy vs. Champ” in the ring, a visual metaphor for the inner fight between holding on and letting go.
Lyrically, Harvey shines brightest when she zooms in on the mundane details of heartbreak. “Windows” builds from a quiet drive past an ex’s house to a soaring, wistful chorus that’s barely hanging on—“you, you, you.” It’s one of the album’s most poignant moments, pairing memory with melody in a way that feels cinematic and claustrophobic all at once. In the music video, Harvey sings behind a window in what looks like a cabaret club, surrounded by tiny objects and lush, disorienting imagery. It’s about seeing yourself through the past and realizing how far you’ve drifted.
What makes Sweetness so effective is its sense of progression—not just track to track, but emotionally. Songs like “In My Eyes” and “Since April” echo with post-breakup surveillance, of checking Spotify listening habits or silently scrolling through memories. On “Beaches,” she delivers some of her most confrontational lyrics to date: “You think I’m stupid or just fucking crazy,” she sings, fury laced in restraint. These aren’t just songs about loss. They’re about realizing the version of yourself you were in a relationship isn’t the one you want to be anymore.
Still, Sweetness offers gentler reflections too. “I Was Her Too” is stripped-down and romantic, cinematic in its simplicity. It’s a quiet act of empathy—of remembering how it feels to be the one someone else loves. And on “I Think I Did,” she sings over soft guitar strums about being “pregnant with the idea of leaving you,” a line so raw and unusual it takes your breath away. The album closes not with resolution, but with something better: self-trust.
Production-wise, Harvey teamed up with Asheville-based Alex Farrar (Wednesday, Indigo De Souza) to shape the album’s dreamy yet punchy sound. The arrangements flirt with shoegaze, early-2000s pop-rock, and country-tinged alt-pop, calling to mind influences from Lana Del Rey to Yo La Tengo. Tracks like “For You Too” and “Since April” are powered by crunchy guitars and drums that hit like pop-punk throwbacks, while others shimmer with softer textures and twinkling melodies.
The layers of Sweetness also extend into its visual world. Across her music videos, Harvey inhabits multiple versions of herself: sciencepuppy, evilpuppy, vampiric girlpuppy. In the video for “Swallow,” she crawls through dirt hills with a knife in her back, coquettishly framed inside a dollhouse. It’s lo-fi, absurdist, and deeply felt—all at once. These visual metaphors speak to the emotional multitudes she holds, and how much she’s willing to bare.
Compared to When I’m Alone, which leaned more heavily on folk and balladry, Sweetness expands Harvey’s emotional and sonic palette. But the throughline is unmistakable: yearning. Whether she’s whispering secrets in “Teenage Dream” or building an anthemic chorus in “Champ,” Harvey knows how to make desire—romantic, existential, or otherwise—feel like something sacred.
girlpuppy’s Sweetness doesn’t just tell the story of a breakup. It tells the story of someone reclaiming their voice in the wreckage, finding joy in the act of creation, and learning how to trust their own instincts. It’s a breakup album, sure—but more importantly, it’s a breakthrough.
Sweetness is out now.
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