By Henry Chandonnet

Our cup runneth over with tears — at this point, breakup albums may have overstayed their welcome.

The cover art for Superache.

The angsty, soft-spoken breakup album has become our newest cultural infatuation. Of course, the subgenre has been around for a while — think Alanis Morissette, Amy Winehouse, even Fleetwood Mac. Still, it is beginning to dominate the new release shelf. First there was Taylor Swift, with her surprise midnight drop of the sentimental, wistful Folklore. Then came 2021’s pop breakout star, Olivia Rodrigo. Rodrigo gained a popular following after she released Sour to critical acclaim. The album was part pop-rock and part mellow guitar-strummers — but all the tunes focused on a painful breakup. Now comes Conan Gray’s newest album, Superache, which attempts to join the crowd. As the subgenre demands, the songwriting is depressive, the lyrics chock-full of grief. That’s not to say that Gray doesn’t provide some of his genius with words — some of his verses are powerful. Still, our cup runneth over with tears — at this point, breakup albums may have overstayed their welcome.

Gray is a charismatic mainstay of Generation Z. He found his initial fame on YouTube, posting vlogs and song covers. This was during the height of YouTube culture, when creators like Troye Sivan and Rachel Zegler (sound familiar?) were posting videos daily for the underage masses. So it’s not surprising that Gray has generated a cult youth following, an appeal that has moved from his YouTube platform to the mainstream music industry. Olivia Rodrigo is Gray’s cultural counterpart; she found her Gen Z fan base through a Disney+ show. Gray’s star grew even brighter with the release of his second vocal project and first studio-length album, Kid Krow. The album featured hits such as “Maniac” and “Heather,” which would go on to become viral TikTok sensations. Gray has returned with a follow-up, Superache, which capitalizes on this prominent youth fan base. But this time there is a uniform focus on his struggles with intimacy and battles with matters of the heart.

The comparison to Rodrigo may be a bit cruel. They are friends; Gray appeared in Rodrigo’s “Sour Prom.” Still, their projects are so utterly similar that it’s impossible not to put two and two together. Consider the formulaic similarities: short track lists and even shorter songs. Both albums feature a couple of pop-rock thrashers that flip heartache into rage. For Rodrigo, it’s “good 4 u”; for Gray, it’s “Jigsaw.” Each disc presents song after song of slow, melodic crooning for lost love. Gray’s “Yours” shares a curiously similar construction to Rodrigo’s “traitor”: quiet, acoustic verses, then soulful, aching choruses, and finally the arrival of a more open, reverberating bridge. Both singers are hung up on unrequited love: there are repeated cries of “you’re still a traitor” or “I’m not yours.” In terms of emotional content, the albums are identical. You could argue that Gray sings the blues better than Rodrigo; his heartfelt flourishes are a bit more poetic yet somehow less showy. Still, Rodrigo’s breakout hit has become omnipresent, and that pushes Superache out to the margins.

Those who are not fatigued by breakup albums will appreciate some of the superbly written songs on Superache. “The Exit” is a standout with its dramatic contrast between mellow verses and abrasive choruses. The lyrics pop with put-downs: “Feels like we had matching wounds, but mine’s still black and bruised and yours is perfectly fine now.” Still, the album doesn’t break new ground — it is like scores of others in which singers lament that somebody did them wrong romantically. Superache may also reflect the herd mentality of Gen Z’s taste. Do we appreciate music because of how it makes us feel? Or because it is liked by the community, recommended by group-think? Given how Gen Z has latched onto these successive artists — and their far too similar albums — it could be that conformity reigns supreme.

Henry Chandonnet is a current student at Tufts University double majoring in English and Political Science with a minor in Economics. He serves as Arts Editor for The Tufts Daily, the preeminent campus publication. Henry’s work may also be seen in Film Cred, Dread Central, and Flip Screen. You can reach out to him at henrychandonnet@gmail.com, or follow him on Twitter @HenryChandonnet.