Audiences are all but saying “Good Riddance” to Gracie Abrams.

The introspective minimalist pop artist’s 2021 breakout EP, “This Is What It Feels Like,” left fans thirsty for more of her sweet, cathartic sound. And alas, Friday’s release of her debut LP “Good Riddance” sure did not disappoint its predecessor, as it is likely to leave listeners paralyzed by the breadth of perception and emotion the album offers.

The 12-track album immediately opens with a sequence of poetic sentiments in the honest reflection that is “Best,” effectively setting the tone for what’s to come. Throughout the track, Abrams owns up to interpersonal “crimes” she’s committed with a remarkable level of lyrical sincerity. For instance, the staggering opening line, “I was bored out my mind / Lost my whole appetite / When I could come to life, I didn’t,” is a reminder of Abrams’ piercing lyricism that even Olivia Rodrigo has drawn influence from.

Following the opening track are the equally brooding ballad-esque “I know it won’t work” and “Full machine.” While both tracks fall in line with Abrams’ gripping lyrical ability, they prove repetitive in their progressions and tempo. The concept of the latter, though, plays with the English language with an imaginative youthfulness, as Abrams asserts that she is a “shameless caller” and a past partner is the “Full machine.” She then explains that despite struggling with codependency, she will heal eventually, but would heal faster with the unnamed partner next to her.

Shattering the preceding line of slower melodies comes “Where do we go now?” – a fitting soundtrack for a midnight drive down Sunset Boulevard. The opening, quick-paced synth tune begs toe-tapping, if not setting the stage for a full-blown sing-a-long. Despite the demonstrably faster pace, the lyrics atop this new tempo don’t lose any of that slow-burn lyrical potency listeners have heard thus far. Abrams brilliantly combines physical concepts with emotional sensations, such as when she describes experiencing “a mental fire alarm” in lieu of feeling “wrong” in a romantic partnership.

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A dulcet guitar meets the ear in “I should hate you” with an intimacy that feels like sitting on the ground next to Abrams in her bedroom, as she strums the chords and describes the devastation of giving someone the world for nothing in return. Following this trajectory, “Will you cry?” carries the honeyed guitar strumming, building upon the preceding track with a tambourine at the refrain. The tracks, while both a triumph of gripping, heart-rending sentiment, ring almost too similar.

Abrams follows with the track “Amelie,” begging listeners to join her in spiraling down rabbit holes of the past. She paints the picture of “Amelie” by describing her words spoken as a funeral rite and finally questioning whether the track’s protagonist is a mere figment of her subconscious. The album takes a turn with “Difficult,” as the succeeding song sees an almost identical synth opening rhythm to “Where do we go now?” – effectively defining the album as a coherent work. Though its uplifting melody takes on a more traditional pop feel, its lyrics dive into her “terrible condition” and all the tricks it plays on her looping mind, leaving audiences in awe of her authenticity.

Up to this point, the album has covered acres of poignant, desolate ground – which is presumably why listeners are then met with “This is what the drugs are for,” now that they understand Abrams’ reasons for coping with substances. The raw, easy melody of the guitar backing transports listeners to the headspace of sitting around a campfire, delving into the most buried, vulnerable feelings and attitudes. “Fault line” follows a similar fashion, with a simple strum laid against immensely intoxicating sentiments regarding falling back into a pattern of familiar, damaging choices. With lyrics such as, “And all my imaginary friends are scared of you / I’ve gone and cried to them in our bedroom,” Abrams paints a riveting picture of a toxic partnership and the mental pandemonium it brings.

The album ends with “The blue” and “Right now,” both of which feel somehow simultaneously grim and eternal. “The blue” delves into opening up one’s most secreted mental chambers, as Abrams cleverly asks her confidante: “What are you doing to me now?” Sonically, the track’s mystic backing sends listeners’ auditory senses diving headfirst into the deep blue ocean – almost as if experiencing Abrams’ own emotional vulnerability and the electrifying emotions that ensue.

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“Right now” sees a soul-stirring venture into the inescapable effects of age, as its sentiment delves into embarking on new chapters of life and walking with all the emotional accumulations of the past. The track’s cutting lyrics reveal Abrams’ genius realization and analysis of time as the funny, omnipotent force that it is. Though Abrams claims she feels like herself right now, she can’t help but ruminate on the ghosts haunting her from the scope of her rearview mirror.

Although “Good Riddance” marks her full-length debut, Abrams’ remarkably adept craft feels far from a first attempt. Its empowering, overwhelming conclusions about one’s emotional baggage, interpersonal connection, desire and trajectory leave listeners with a new lens to peer through. The album’s coherency is remarkable, but maybe too much so. The middle tracks in particular did tend to blur, and upon first listen, are near impossible to keep separate. Regardless, Abrams’ mournful musings, wistful penmanship and accumulation of wisdom beyond her years make “Good Riddance” one spectacular debut.

And for that, Gracie Abrams might as well be asking herself, “Where do we go now?”