Gracie Abrams’ ‘Daughter From Hell’: All 16 Tracks Ranked

It’s hard to pull off a song about how difficult it is to be famous and successful — not because it’s so unbelievable that celebrities might struggle under such pressures, but simply because it’s hard for a large majority of the population to relate. When a lot of people would gladly swap places with artists singing about how their lives aren’t all they were cracked up to be, lines like “I got what I wanted, it doesn’t sit right,” don’t always reverberate.

It’s a fun, well-written song that serves as a much-needed uptempo lift to balance out the slower-paced areas of the tracklist, but it doesn’t do much to give a new perspective on life in the spotlight that people haven’t heard time and time again — not like another song on the album does, at least. (More on that later).

On “Sober,” Abrams intriguingly plays with the concept of sobriety vs. intoxication as a way of conceptualizing being in a relationship with a specific person vs. not. It’s a pretty song that could possibly have been even better with a little more specificity.

“Good Reason” calls back to some of the central themes on Good Riddance, with Abrams reflecting on how she broke the heart of someone who felt more strongly about her than the other way around. She knows that sometimes it’s this type of breakup that can be the most painful: when there isn’t any particular “reason” for it, and one person just isn’t feeling it anymore.

Interestingly, Abrams later learns what it’s like to be on the other side of the equation on songs like “Broke My Heart” and “Mews,” where she becomes the person who’s left in the dust.

Abrams is one of pop’s most poetic songwriters, and “Broke My Heart” is no exception — but the best parts on the song come when she throws in a straightforward, unembellished phrase that stands out more powerfully in contrast with her metaphors and imagery. “I’d rather get hit by a train than have to let go,” she sings frankly at one point on this song, and, even more plainly at another, “You just broke my heart.”

Abrams and guest artist Marcus Mumford’s voices sound gorgeous together as they play the parts of two lovers who are equally unsure about whether to call it quits on their relationship or not. They reflect back on their time together without seeming to realize that their dialogue is already starting to sound like a post-mortem, indicating that the relationship is already over, even if they don’t realize it.

One thing is for sure, though: They’re both to blame for the place they’re at now. “Ain’t it sad sharing this stage?” the two stars sing.

With an ever-ascending chorus and topsy-turvy string accents, “Men Like You” finds Abrams eviscerating a two-faced opportunist who took advantage of her by calling out some of the behaviors she recognizes from past encounters with smarmy men. In the last line of the chorus, however, she seemingly reveals that she’s actually addressing a woman — “Girl, I know men like you” — somehow making the betrayal even worse.

Written with boyfriend Paul Mescal, “Imaginary Friend” puts a spin on the childhood concept of make-believe companions to instead refer to someone from Abrams’ past, whose presence lives on in her mind despite it being years since she actually knew them intimately. “You don’t know even half of what you’re missing/ I’m cool now, if you even care,” she sings in deceptively catchy melodies over mid-tempo acoustic guitar. “Do you remember all the s–t I broke? Well, I fixed it.”

“The Knife” is written from the inevitable point of heartbreak where you’re convinced the pain is going to last forever, in this case represented by a knife — which itself is a recurring symbol throughout Daughter From Hell — stuck in Abrams’ side that she refuses to pull out. This simple piano lament momentarily builds to the brink of a breaking point as harmonies, guitar and percussion intensify during the bridge, but she immediately pulls right back into the more reserved chorus before there’s ever a true release — possibly representing her refusal to move on.

Reuniting with The Secret of Us cowriter and childhood best friend Audrey Hobert, Abrams marks her most pop-forward moment on Daughter From Hell with “Minibar.” Over happy drums and bright walls of harmonies, she sings of social awkwardness and feeling adrift in the confusing reality of being 20-something, unsure of whether her place is with the “girls and the gossipers” or just by herself.

“Humming” never crescendos louder than its title suggests, but it serves Abrams’ point that even the smallest bit of noise can make a difference in a world so overrun with cruelty. Grappling with her role as a provider of light and community to her fans when so much suffering is taking place around them, she offers up some of her most poetic moments on the album on this quiet-but-mighty track.

“Cold Goodbyes” seems to convey a more nuanced version of some of the feelings Abrams tried to explain on “Look at My Life” as she daydreams about ending her life in different senses of the phrase, concluding that she “know[s] better” than to make any drastic exits. That doesn’t stop her from feeling unmoored in her own body and station in life a lot of the time, which she shares in a way that feels a thousand times more honest, raw and relatable than most artists’ attempts at lamenting the downsides of celebrity.

“Look at all of these people/ Do I have to play tonight?” she sings. “Used to know what landed well for me/ But now it’s hard to find.”

Abrams told Olivia Rodrigo for Spotify that “Afflictions” is the one true love song on Daughter From Hell, because she normally finds it difficult to write about the topic. “When I’ve tried to write about it before, it kind of diminishes what it actually feels like,” she said at the time. “But that [song] is super real for me.”

It’s easy to understand why she’s so fond of the song once you hear how it moves at the same comfortable, easy pace Abrams sings about finding with her partner in their relationship. The lyrics are also poignant without being cliche as she describes a love forged through past bumps in the road caused and experienced by both parties: “It’s the shape of your hands/ Made me brave once again/ You became where I land.”

“Mews” comes from a place of acceptance, but one that took a long time to reach — and just because Abrams is there doesn’t mean she’s not still hurt. Each lyric tumbles out honestly, effortlessly and without any pretense over descending piano chords, like an inner monologue. She knows that the person who inspired it is too far away now to hear her after leaving without warning, but the words still come.

Fans who are used to the live version of “Death Wish” that Abrams recorded on tour and released in April 2025 should brace themselves for something that sounds entirely new, with the star picking up the pace and swapping out the mellow piano for fingerpicked guitar. But the lyrics still hold as some of her best as she deftly deconstructs each and every tactic of a truly manipulative, selfish ex-lover.

Abrams has said that she focused on portraying both parties’ wrongdoings on the breakup-related songs on Daughter From Hell, rather than “pointing fingers” like in her past music. The absence of that from most of the rest of the album makes “Death Wish” — where the opposite person is clearly at fault — feel even more powerful.

The enveloping distorted guitar on Daughter From Hell‘s title track sounds somewhat like Holly Humberstone’s “Deep End,” which is fitting given how deeply Abrams digs into herself in the lyrics to pay tribute to her mother, Katie McGrath. Featuring one of the singer’s best vocal performances to date, the gradually expanding track represents the vastness of Abrams’ admiration for the woman who raised her and ends with a moving resolution to try to live up to her example: “Daughter from Hell, but I came around/ I’ll try to become you now.”

Not only does Daughter From Hell‘s lead single hold strong as the best song from the album, but it also sounds even better with the context provided by the rest of the tracks. Though there aren’t any overt narrative ties to its counterparts on “Hit the Wall,” the song does encapsulate pretty much all of the themes that Abrams explores more in depth on each of the other tracks — ego death, overwhelm, identity, heartache — giving you an idea of what the sum of those parts looks like in terms of her overall state of mind.

Musically, the execution is some of her best work with longtime producer Aaron Dessner, dynamic and elastic. The high point of the song also isn’t where you think it’s going to be, with Abrams abruptly switching up the topline halfway through the second verse (“Watch my blade ricochet“) in a way that sounds like gas being thrown on a fire, perfectly matching the chaos of the song’s lyrics.

She’s said in the past — including in her 2025 Billboard cover story — that she felt like she had nothing to say when starting on Daughter From Hell, but this track in particular proves that she hasn’t hit a wall yet in terms of how far she can explore as a musician.