Gracie Abrams grew up in Hollywood, and still can’t decide if that’s a confession or an excuse.

The Grammy-nominated artist released her third studio album, “Daughter from Hell,” on Friday. The album was another collaboration with Aaron Dessner, founding member of American rock band The National, who has also worked alongside artists like Taylor Swift and Ed Sheeran. Her junior album came two years after her second, “The Secret of Us.” Abrams, who co-produced the album alongside Dessner, spends 16 tracks confronting the emotional wounds she inflicted on herself and those around her as a teenager, then apologizing for it.

“Hit the Wall,” the album’s opening track and first single released in May, sets the tone of Abrams’ emotional bewilderment. The track is a gateway into Abrams’ current state and makes sense as her pick to introduce the era. The lyrics are deliberate, a bit wounded but explanatory.

“Death Wish” follows and immediately complicates the album’s pacing. The track feels rushed, stacking whisper-sung verses with more words than the melody can hold. It’s a mix of folk and synth instrumentation that sits a bit awkwardly behind lyrics that need space. The song is also a pivot from when Abrams first performed the stripped-down version on a piano at London’s O2 arena in March 2025. The singer released that version a few weeks later in April.

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The next track, “The Knife,” by contrast, introduces a recurring motif that inserts some life into the album. Abrams, known for her breathy singing, lets her vocal prowess shine on the track. Her voice is stronger and more assured, and the melody gives her room to showcase its range.

The title track, “Daughter From Hell,” includes a slow guitar build and minimal lyrics, written seemingly as an apology to her mother for the chaos of her teenage years. The singer lists the qualities she wishes to inherit from her mother, including her grace, color and goodness. Abrams ends the song saying “Daughter from hell, but I came around / I’ll try to become you now.” While the sentiment may be sweet, the song never reaches the emotional payoff it seems to be building toward, and its production and lyricism remain repetitive and static.

“Look at My Life,” the album’s second single, quickly became a fan favorite after its June release. It was co-produced by Daniel Nigro, the frequent collaborator of Olivia Rodrigo and Chappell Roan. The track is chaotic as Abrams writes about entering a spiral, letting fans into a life that might look good but doesn’t feel that way.

“Good Reason” brings back an old writer, Sarah Aarons, from Abrams’ first-ever hit song, “I miss you, I’m sorry,” released in 2020. The song feels like a throwback to Abrams’ earlier work, combining her softer voice with self-deprecating lyricism that underscores her propensity to overthink. “Men Like You” returns to the slow piano-synth buildup used on most other tracks, which becomes one of the record’s noticeable shortcomings. The instrumentation very frequently doesn’t match tracks’ lyrical progression, leaving several songs sounding like Abrams is performing them a half step behind their own emotional register.

“Sober” snaps back to the loose, guitar-driven energy of Abrams’ first studio album “Good Riddance” and is a smooth break in between the mayhem of the rest of the album. From there, the album moves through its most collaborator-heavy stretch. “Broke My Heart” carries songwriting credits from Bon Iver frontman Justin Vernon and Édgar Barrera, a Grammy-nominated Latin music producer and frequent collaborator with Bad Bunny, Shakira and Karol G. “Mews” is another standout track vocally, with effortless shifts between registers and an Abrams specialty: a prominent bridge build.

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The two shortest songs on the album are also the most personal. At two minutes, “Minibar,” written with Abrams’ best friend Audrey Hobert, sounds like it wandered over from “The Secret of Us” – which is hardly surprising given Hobert’s many contributions on that album as well. “Imaginary Friend,” written with Abrams’ boyfriend and movie star Paul Mescal, is similarly brief and intimate, leaving listeners feeling like they’re barefoot in the kitchen reading her diary. “Afflictions,” which follows, is the only true lull on the record. It’s a bit forgettable and slow, while lacking lyrics that feel like a cohesive story.

“Humming” is a star of the latter half, with songwriting from Vernon and an understated, dreamy guitar strum behind Abrams’ vocals. She writes her way back to a childhood that felt simple even as the world seemed like it was ending. In her twenties, Abrams is humming through that confusion, rather than trying to make sense of it. “What If It’s Right?,” a duet with Marcus Mumford of Mumford & Sons, keeps that uncertainty going. The song is less concerned with resolving what is right and wrong, than it is simply calling out how disorienting it is to not know. The closing track, “Cold Goodbyes,” sounds like a grown-up cousin of “Right Now” from Abrams’ first album, but it feels fleeting, abruptly closing a chapter before listeners can process it.

“Daughter From Hell” is a solid but conflicted record. Abrams spends all 56 minutes of the album reaching for experimentation and safety at the same time, and the two impulses cancel each other out rather than combining into something new. The production is flatter than Abrams’ songwriting deserves, and there is no real through line connecting the 16 tracks beyond Abrams’ conviction that she’s the worst person in the room. That belief is compelling at times, but as a full body of work, “Daughter From Hell” never decides what it wants to be.

Gracie Abrams is still reconciling the daughter she wants to be and the daughter she was. “Daughter from Hell” is a time capsule from before she fully figured it out.