Album Review: Pretty Idea by Amber Mark

Amber Mark uses her long-awaited second album to transform messy experiences into something beautiful, hinting at a song cycle that encompasses both “highs and lows” and the lessons learned.

Courtesy of PMR Records/Interscope Records.

Amber Mark is the Black pop girl we need right now. Pretty Idea arrives three years after her acclaimed debut, and it immediately feels like a diary cracked open on the dancefloor. The New York singer discussed the project as carrying “many highs and lows and lessons I didn’t know I needed,” essentially turning all her bad ideas into Pretty ones. That ethos of alchemy—pain spun into pop gold—defines Pretty Idea. It’s an album about love and heartbreak, yes, but also about growth. Where 2022’s Three Dimensions Deep shot for the cosmos with heavy metaphysical concepts, Pretty Idea keeps its feet on the ground, focusing on messy relationships and hard-won self-love. The scope is more intimate and personal. Even the cover art finds Mark with eyes closed in contemplation, signaling that this time she’s mining her own emotional lessons rather than abstract philosophy.

With this one, Pretty Idea finds Amber Mark swanning into a nostalgic disco-pop sound without losing her R&B core. Lead single “Let Me Love You” sets the tone with echoing synths, a carefree bounce, and Mark’s breathy vocals front and center. Produced by Julian Bunetta and Matt Zara, the track is a shimmer of late-‘70s groove updated for 2025—all rubbery bass pops and airy harmonies that “let Mark’s breathy vocals shine.” It’s a slinky, flirty song that asks over and over: “Why won’t you let me love you?” The simplicity of that hook is bold—practically half the song is built on that one line—but Mark sells it with a hypnotic, almost yearning delivery. It is Pretty Idea’s most immediate rush, confidently placing Amber in the ongoing disco revival alongside pop peers, yet carving out her own space with a sultry R&B twist.

That mirrorball energy doesn’t disappear after the single, though Pretty Idea is not one-note, either. Mark has spent the past year proving her range, dropping the freewheeling Loosies EP that bounced from bubbling dance tracks to relaxed R&B anthems. By comparison, this album is a more cohesive vision, but it still hops across eras and genres with ease. The sticky lead single “Sweet Serotonin,” for instance, “embraces a throwback soul sound,” dripping with retro instrumentation and a gospel-like warmth. Over a funk-inflected beat (courtesy of producers like José Ríos and Two Fresh), Mark cheekily blends romance with neurochemistry: “Sugar, honey, serotonin/You so funny when you rollin’” she coos, winking at both puppy love sweetness and the dizzying high of a chemical rush. It’s an addictive track that captures the giddy, free-floating feeling of a new crush—a perfect contrast to the album’s heavier moments.

Meanwhile, “Too Much” leans into a different kind of nostalgia—the early-2000s R&B variety. The song interpolates Usher and Alicia Keys’ 2004 duet “My Boo,” smoothly weaving that Y2K classic’s melody into Mark’s own late-night longing. With production from KingJet and Chase.wav, “Too Much” mixes lightly funky guitar with a grooving hip-hop beat, while Mark brings her best ‘90s/‘00s songstress stylings. It’s a sweetly romantic cut where she confronts an on-and-off lover’s hesitation: “Is it too much if I’m thinking about you daily?” she sings, her voice gliding over the plush beat. The throwback vibe is apparent—you can hear echoes of early Janet and Aaliyah in her breathy, layered vocals—yet the track doesn’t feel dated. Instead, Mark uses nostalgia like a painter uses color, to add depth and familiarity to her sonic palette. In context, the glossy R&B of “Too Much” complements the disco sheen of “Let Me Love You” and the soulful spark of “Sweet Serotonin,” giving Pretty Idea a rich, multi-faceted pop sound.

As the album delivers the highs (danceable grooves, flirtation, new love jitters) in the beginning section, the back half dives into the lows—without completely losing the groove. “Cherry Reds” is a hazy mid-album standout that conjures a ‘70s summer romance in vivid detail. Over what starts as a laid-back, guitar-laced R&B arrangement, Mark wistfully paints a scene of “smoking cherry reds in the trees, catching feelings in the breeze.” Her lyrics recall Dazed and Confused—level nostalgia: “Oh, the innocence that we had to last a summer’s dream.” The song’s warmth and specificity make it one of her most transporting tracks to date—you can practically feel the humidity and heart fluttering youth. It’s also a clever thematic pivot; placed right before the album’s darkest moment, “Cherry Reds” serves as the calm before the emotional storm, reflecting on a sweet past before confronting a bitter present.

That bitter present arrives with “Don’t Remind Me,” a lush duet featuring Anderson .Paak that stands as Pretty Idea’s emotional rock bottom. Over a slow-burning funk groove, Mark and Paak trade verses about drowning heartbreak in vice. “Baby, you made a waste of me,” Amber admits in the opening line, and her usually smooth voice has a raw edge here. By the time the hook hits, she’s openly numbing herself: “I’ve been getting fucked up nightly… anything that don’t remind me,” she sings bluntly. Paak’s signature raspy drawl responds in kind—he sounds equally wounded and wasted—and together they lay bare the post-breakup spiral with unflinching honesty. It’s a gut-punch of a song, notable for how stark the lyrics feel against the backdrop of silk-sheet production. Even as a sultry bassline rolls underneath, the focus stays on the despair in their voices. “Don’t Remind Me” ensures the album’s thematic lows hit as hard as the highs, injecting a dose of gritty realism amid all the polished pop.

Crucially, Amber Mark doesn’t wallow for long. Pretty Idea is structured as a journey, and after hitting bottom, it pivots toward healing and self-discovery. “Different Places” finds Mark and John The Blind (a.k.a. John Ryan) lamenting a relationship out of sync—“we dance in different places” goes the refrained hook, repeated like a sad mantra. The metaphor of dancing apart nicely symbolizes emotional distance, though the song itself is one of the album’s more middling moments. Its chorus leans a bit too heavy on that one-line refrain, and John’s guest vocals blend so smoothly with Amber’s that he’s more background texture than a memorable presence. Still, the track serves its purpose in the narrative, bridging the downright bleak mood of “Don’t Remind Me” to the cautious optimism that follows.

One of the most striking cuts is “Problems,” where Mark hardens the album’s core message of perseverance. Over nearly four minutes—the longest runtime here—she builds from a spare, moody intro to a soaring, drum-laden chorus that feels like a hard-won epiphany. “One day I’ll turn problems into product ’cause that’s what I deserve,” she belts, flipping her baggage into motivation. It’s the kind of lyric that doubles as a mission statement, directly echoing her real-life goal of turning bad ideas (and experiences) into something pretty. The production on “Problems” matches the weight of the words: heavy, dramatic beats and a cascade of synths that sparkle like light at the end of the tunnel. Mark’s vocal performance is powerful here—she pushes her voice louder and higher than anywhere else on the record, as if she’s physically lifting herself up. Even if the chorus repeats a lot (the phrase “hold the weight of the world” bounces around perhaps one time too many), the song lands as a triumphant moment of growth. After all the tears and tequila shots, Pretty Idea finally reaches a place of empowerment.

The final stretch of the album solidifies that hard-earned self-assurance. “Doin’ Me” is a breezy, upbeat affirmation of staying true to oneself—essentially Mark’s self-care anthem. The track’s hook is simple and irresistibly catchy, with Amber layering her voice into a choir of self-encouragement: “I’m gon’ keep, keep doin’ me” she repeats in a syncopated flow. There’s a lightness to “Doin’ Me” that feels like exhaling after a long cry; it’s not a flashy song, but it’s memorable for its sincerity. Mark doesn’t need to over-sing or pile on vocal runs here—her mellow, breathy tone (that hallmark of hers) is enough to convey the peace she’s making with herself.

When reaching the title track “Pretty Idea,” Amber Mark has come full circle. The song is a short, subtle closer that muses on the idea of a love that could have been. It’s melancholic yet accepting. Over sparse production, she questions, “Your touch when I’m coming home… who’s the one that did you wrong? Maybe I did, maybe I did,” calling herself out. There’s a sense that she’s owning her mistakes in relationships, not just playing the victim. However, the title track is also where Mark’s songwriting wobbles a bit. In the second verse, she rattles off some clichéd imagery—“Watches on the wrist so bright they make me blind/I can’t trust nobody, they just tell me lies,” she sings—lines that feel oddly generic amid her more personal storytelling. It’s a rare moment where Pretty Idea loses focus. Fortunately, it’s brief. The album ends not on that material note, but on the refrain of “Pretty idea, pretty idea…” drifting off like a daydream. You’re left with the impression of an artist who has processed her heartache and is this close to turning the page.

Amber Mark maintains a fine balancing act throughout Pretty Idea. Her signature breathy, velvety vocals tie these songs together, whether she’s gliding over a disco groove or pouring her soul into an R&B ballad. At times, her understated delivery can blur some lyrical details—she sustains vibe over enunciation in a few chorus hooks—but more often than not, that approach works in her favor, adding an alluring softness even when she’s singing about heavy emotions. The production across the album is consistently lush and clean, perhaps even too polished in spots. Fans of Mark’s earlier, earthier tracks might miss a bit of grit. Tracks like “Ooo” (a sultry early cut where she purrs “Say my name… like I’m on your tongue” amid moaning ad-libs) prioritize atmosphere over narrative depth. But this is clearly by design—Pretty Idea isn’t trying to be a singer-songwriter confessional in the traditional sense. It’s a danceable therapy session, more in line with Robyn’s heartbreak-on-the-dancefloor tradition or the glossy soul-disco of Jamiroquai and Jessie Ware, than with acoustic tearjerkers. Mark wants you to groove and reflect, often at the same time. In that mission, the album largely succeeds.

What prevents it from being next-level is that Pretty Idea sometimes plays it safe lyrically, leaning on familiar tropes of heartbreak and rebound. A few lines and concepts (the dreams, the lies, the “boy, you know I’m your favorite” bravado) are things we’ve heard in plenty of songs before. Mark is at her best when she gets specific or clever—the serotonin metaphor, the “turn problems into product” rallying cry, the vivid summer fling imagery—and one occasionally wishes for more of those surprise moments. Still, even the more generic lines are delivered with such genuine feeling that they mostly get a pass. And there are certainly moments of brilliance that elevate the whole project: the way the beat drops out in “Let Me Love You” to let her vocal almost whisper the hook one last time, sending a shiver down your spine; the layered harmonies in the final chorus of “Problems” that sound like a woman backing herself with a choir of hard-earned wisdom; the opening of “By the End of the Night,” where she flips heartbreak on its head and confidently vows “I’ll be alright, all good… I’mma forget about you” by tonight—a refreshing twist on the usual post-breakup devastation. These are the touches that make Pretty Idea linger in the listener’s mind.

With Pretty Idea, Amber Mark solidifies herself as one of this era’s quietly ambitious pop-R&B auteurs. The album is polished and pleasurable on the surface—full of disco-kissed melodies and sensual slow jams—but underneath, there’s a clear emotional arc and a story of personal transformation. It maintains the genre-hopping energy of her recent output while somehow presenting a more unified identity; every song belongs to the same narrative, even as the styles shift. Amber’s honest, unflinching approach to songwriting (she’s not afraid to admit her faults or spill her tears) gives the record a relatable core that many glossy pop albums lack. Pretty Idea isn’t absolutely perfect—a couple of tracks could be stronger, and at times you sense Mark holding back the full force of her voice—but it’s a thoughtful, delightful body of work. In turning her “bad ideas” into something beautiful, Amber Mark has delivered an album that shines. It’s the sound of an artist taking her pain to the disco and dancing through the darkness, lessons learned and lights reflected in a shimmering mirrorball.

Great (★★★★☆)

Favorite Track(s): “Cherry Reds,” “Don’t Remind Me,” “Problems”