Album Review: Man’s Best Friend by Sabrina Carpenter

With Man’s Best Friend, Sabrina Carpenter is staking a claim for pop superstardom that feels increasingly within reach. She has made a convincing case that her breakthrough was no fluke.

Courtesy of Island Records.

As her seventh studio effort, Man’s Best Friend finds Sabrina Carpenter pushing her artistry forward without abandoning the formula that made 2024’s Short n’ Sweet a breakthrough. That previous record, a Billboard 200 topper that earned Carpenter two Grammy Awards, established her as a witty pop voice unafraid of candid storytelling. Man’s Best Friend feels like a natural successor in its confessional, romantic-comedy spirit, but it’s also more daring and ambitious. Carpenter doubles down on humor and honesty here, clearly determined to build on Short n’ Sweet’s success rather than play things safe. Rather than shy away from that success, she delivers a blunt, playful, and surprisingly introspective pop record that builds on her momentum.

A significant aspect of this record’s identity stems from Carpenter’s ongoing collaboration with producer Jack Antonoff and songwriter Amy Allen. Antonoff, who co-produced Short n’ Sweet and now Man’s Best Friend, leaves his fingerprints all over the sound: polished synth-pop with a retro streak. In fact, the lead single, “Manchild” (co-written with Antonoff and Allen), rides a 1989-meets-Golden Hour groove, blending an upbeat pop sheen with a sly country undercurrent. The song’s playful, banjo-flecked stomp and sarcastic lyrics (calling out an overgrown “man-child” boyfriend) set the tone for the album’s sonic and thematic boldness. Allen’s influence, meanwhile, can be felt in the razor-sharp hooks and melodic confidence; her pop songwriting pedigree helps Carpenter turn biting one-liners into genuinely catchy choruses. Together, the Antonoff-Allen team gives Man’s Best Friend a cohesive yet adventurous feel—familiar glossy pop, but stretched at the edges with twangy guitars, ‘70s-style riffs, and other curveballs that match Carpenter’s cheeky vision.

Carpenter’s vocal performance and lyrics have never been more self-assured. The Pennsylvania-born singer has come a long way since her wholesome 2015 debut, Eyes Wide Open. Here she unleashes her whole personality: breathy, teasing murmurs one moment and octave-climbing belts the next, whatever the song calls for. She sounds equally at home delivering a deadpan punchline or a heartfelt confession. That small-town authenticity and humor she’s always had now fuel her songwriting at full force. Carpenter isn’t sanitizing her feelings or language anymore—she swears, she flaunts innuendo, she jokes about sex and heartbreak with disarming candor. Yet none of it feels put-on. Even at their most brazen, these songs retain a relatable, down-to-earth core, as if her grounded upbringing keeps her honest. Whether she’s lampooning an ex’s immaturity in “Manchild” or pining with a wink (“Tears” flips the phrase “tears running down my face” to a much cheekier context), Carpenter’s voice sells it with conviction. The through-line from her Disney Channel roots to this daring pop provocateur is her sincerity; you believe every word she sings, because it’s clearly coming from her own experiences and quirks. That genuine, girl-next-door quality makes even the most outrageous lyrics land with charm.

Visually and conceptually, Carpenter has crafted an album era that’s just as unapologetic. The cover art for Man’s Best Friend immediately generated controversy and conversation, which was likely by design. On it, Carpenter is depicted on her hands and knees with a man’s hand pulling her hair, as if she’s an obedient pet on a leash. It’s a provocative, tongue-in-cheek image that plays directly on the album’s title and themes. Some critics slammed it as pandering to the “male gaze,” calling it demeaning to women. Others defended it as a subversive send-up of exactly that kind of misogynistic imagery – essentially Carpenter taking a sexist trope and exaggerating it to make a point. In typical fashion, Sabrina met the debate head-on with humor.

She even released an alternate cover (for a special vinyl edition) that she joked was “approved by God,” a clear sign that she’s both aware of the chatter and not taking the outrage too seriously. In the bigger picture, the album’s visual and promotional aesthetic has been thoughtfully on-theme. Carpenter teased Man’s Best Friend by literally incorporating the concept of man’s best friend, posting photos of fans posing with puppies to reveal track titles—a cheeky and wholesome counterbalance to the risqué cover art. From the glittery, hyper-feminine styling in her photoshoots to the playful canine motifs, every visual element reinforces the album’s blend of sass and satire. Love it or hate it, the presentation is memorable—and, importantly, true to the music’s daring spirit. Just like the songs, the visuals project a young woman staking her claim to do pop on her own terms, whether that means cracking dirty jokes or stirring up a little controversy.

Carpenter keeps the wit rolling with “My Man On Willpower,” a brief tongue-in-cheek interlude about a boyfriend who’s suddenly sworn off sex. The track is short, more of a comic sketch than a full song, but it lands its punchline. Over bouncy production, she laments that her once affectionate partner has become inexplicably restrained. “My man’s in touch with his emotions… my man won’t touch me with a twenty-foot pole,” she quips dryly. It’s a quick, laugh-out-loud moment that transitions neatly into “We Almost Broke Up Again Last Night,” which finds humor in the chaos of on-and-off relationships. That song barrels forward with an upbeat, head-nodding groove as Carpenter recounts a familiar cycle: big fight, dramatic “I love you” and “I’m sorry” exchanges, passionate makeup sex, then almost breaking up all over again the next day. The chorus is ridiculously catchy as she sing-shouts about the whiplash of it all, even tossing in a cheeky aside that “I gave him head and then… we almost broke up again” in the post-chorus. Her vocal performance balances frustration and nonchalant irony—she’s fully aware of how ridiculous this pattern is, and she makes sure we feel it too. By this point in the album, Carpenter’s sharp edge is established: she’s more than willing to expose intimate details and bad behavior, including her own, if it serves the song’s truth.

Amid all the sarcasm, Man’s Best Friend does offer glimmers of genuine hurt. “Nobody’s Son” is the emotional gut-punch at the center of the record, slowing the tempo a notch to spotlight Carpenter’s vulnerability. Over a moody pop backdrop, she portrays the lonely aftermath of yet another breakup. “Here we go again, crying in bed/What a familiar feeling,” she sings with a resigned sadness, admitting that all her friends are in love while she’s forever the third wheel. The writing still carries her trademark bite—in the bridge, she pointedly addresses the guy’s mother, noting how “that boy is corrupt… He sure fucked me up,” but the overriding mood is isolation and disappointment. Carpenter’s voice is softer here, tinged with real ache underneath the bitterness. It’s a needed moment of gravity that gives the album some emotional ballast. She follows it with “Never Getting Laid,” a spiteful, darkly comic send-off to the ex who hurt her. The song’s bright, almost sweet melody contrasts with its malicious well-wishes: “Wish you a lifetime full of happiness/And a forever of never getting laid,” she chirps, sugarcoating a curse as if it were a blessing. Her tone is faux-pleasant and petty all at once. It’s a bold songwriting choice, essentially a kiss-off toast, and Carpenter leans into it without hesitation. The track even tacks on a quirky “Part II” coda, a brief vignette that finds her doubling down on the curse (“at the end of the rainbow I hope you find a whole lot of nothing…”).

After venting her anger, Carpenter uses the album’s back half to lighten up and reclaim some joy. “When Did You Get Hot?” is pure playful distraction, a flirty uptempo number where she suddenly notices an old acquaintance’s glow-up. The lyrics are outrageous, and Carpenter executes them with giddy surprise—one minute, she’s asking when he got so attractive, the next she’s blurting out absurd compliments (“I bet your light rod’s bigger than Zeus’s… You were an ugly kid, but you’re a sexy man”). Her vocal inflection sells both the shock and the tongue-in-cheek lust; it’s as if she’s half-laughing at her own extreme thirst. The track also features a cheeky rock-style riff (even foreshadowed by her lyric “big riff coming, I need a minute”) that adds a burst of musical energy. From there, “Go Go Juice” maintains a high energy level but reveals a sadder undercurrent. It’s an anthem for drunk dialing your ex, dressed up in a fun, bar-sing-along vibe. Fun guitars and sing-song “ba-da-da” refrains make it sound almost celebratory, but Carpenter’s words paint a picture of post-breakup desperation. “I’m just drinking to call someone,” she admits bluntly, and nobody is safe from her tipsy late-night calls—it could be “John or Larry… or the one that rhymes with ‘villain’ if I’m feelin’ that way”. That sly line (“villain” clearly hinting at an ex’s name) is a great example of her witty songwriting. Even as she’s drowning sorrows in alcohol, she can’t resist a clever jab.

With “Don’t Worry I’ll Make You Worry,” she flips the script on the relationship dynamic: now it’s Carpenter warning a new partner that she’ll be the difficult one. Over brooding pop production, she teases a lover with the chaos she can inflict—giving him just enough affection and then pulling away to keep him anxious. “Don’t worry, I’ll make you worry like no other girl can,” she sings with a dark smirk. The track’s sound is smooth and more of a groove in itself, with a pulsing beat and ghostly backing vocals. Carpenter’s voice turns sly and taunting here, relishing lines about silent treatments and never letting him know where he stands. It’s a bold penultimate chapter that shows she’s absorbed the album’s lessons, maybe not for the better, and is momentarily content being the heartbreaker for once. Finally, Man’s Best Friend closes with “Goodbye,” a cathartic pop anthem that brings genuine closure. Bright, rhythmic verses give way to a soaring chorus that feels like a victory lap for her self-respect. Carpenter addresses the ex who originally walked out on her, firmly reminding him that “goodbye” means he’s lost her “for life,” so he doesn’t get to show up crying now. The chorus is one of the album’s strongest, both melodically and lyrically—it’s hooky and triumphant, turning a sad word into a statement of empowerment. Even in her final send-off, Carpenter’s razor-sharp wit remains: “Forgive my French, but, fuck you, ta-ta,” she sneers with a theatrical flourish, dropping the mic on any lingering sentiment.

With this, Man’s Best Friend does exactly what it set out to do: it proves that Sabrina Carpenter’s pop renaissance is built to last. This album cements Carpenter as one of the most compelling young forces in mainstream pop right now. By following a smash hit like Short n’ Sweet with an album this gutsy and self-assured, she shows she’s not interested in being a one-era wonder or a label-molded star. She’s carving out a distinct niche—one where humor, empowerment, vulnerability, and swagger can coexist under irresistibly glossy production. To be sure, Man’s Best Friend isn’t flawless. A couple of the quips don’t land, and occasionally the album winks so hard at its own concept that it borders on kitsch. But those are the growing pains of an artist stretching herself. When the songs do connect, they hit with a confidence and originality that sets Carpenter apart from her peers. She’s effectively taken the torch from the generation of pop storytellers before her (the Katy Perrys and early Taylors who loved a good tongue-in-cheek anthem) and updated it with her own modern, no-filter twist. As she heads out on a victory lap tour, playing her biggest venues yet and sharing stages with an eclectic group of musicians, Sabrina Carpenter can do so knowing Man’s Best Friend has both solidified her current stature and opened exciting possibilities for her future. This record is funny, fearless, and full of personality, and it firmly reinforces that Sabrina isn’t just in the pop game—she’s becoming a player to be reckoned with.

Great (★★★★☆)

Favorite Track(s): “Tears,” “Go Go Juice,” “Goodbye”