âIâm the bad guy,â Billie Eilish declares in âBad Guy,â the first song on her debut album, âWhen We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go?â; then the music pauses to splice in one spoken, very teenage syllable: âDuh!â You can hear the eyeroll.
Eilish, 17, has spent the last few years establishing herself as the negation of what a female teen-pop star used to be. She doesnât play innocent, or ingratiating, or flirtatious, or perky, or cute. Instead, sheâs sullen, depressive, death-haunted, sly, analytical and confrontational, all without raising her voice.
On singles and EPs, like her 2017 EP âDonât Smile at Me,â Eilishâs songs have treated love as a power struggle, an absurd game, and a destructive obsession, racking up more than a billion streams from listeners who apparently share her sentiments. On her Instagram page, which has more than 15 million followers, she is brusquely anti-fashion, swaddling herself in shapeless, oversized, boldly colored clothes and making silly or ghoulish faces. âI do what I want when Iâm wanting to/My soul so cynical,â she notes in âBad Guy.â But thatâs just her starting point. While Eilishâs previous releases have featured her flinty, defensive side, her debut album also admits to sorrows and vulnerabilities.
In some ways the album arrives as a continuation, not an introduction. Like her previous releases, itâs the work of a very small, decidedly innovative family team. Eilish writes and records her songs with her older brother, Finneas OâConnell, working largely at home. The sound they have built for her is sparse with instrumentation and large with implication. A typical track uses just a handful of parts, nearly all of them electronic: a bass line, a beat, only enough keyboard notes to sketch a harmony. Eilish sings barely above a whisper, a signal of intimacy.
But at any moment, the tracks are likely to flaunt their artificiality: adding samples or sound effects, distorting her voice, suddenly deploying a big bass drop. âWish You Were Gayâ â a guy is ignoring her, and she wishes he was indifferent to her gender rather than her in particular â starts with just acoustic-guitar chords and her voice, tokens of pop sincerity. But the mix also includes a tittering audience and applause at the end, insisting that the song is archly theatrical. In Eilishâs digital-native universe, itâs impossible to pretend that anything is unobserved or unmediated; everything is self-conscious.
While albums in the streaming era arenât always made to be heard as a whole, âWhen We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go?â traces a clear arc: from bravado to melancholy. Early in the album are songs like âYou Should See Me in a Crownâ â an ominously assured, sustained and then slamming claim to power â and the mocking, music-hall flavored âAll the Good Girls Go to Hell,â as well as âXanny,â a ballad that disdains the trendy overuse of the anti-anxiety drug Xanax. But with a stretch of songs near the end of the album, Eilish turns to thoughts of grief, suicide and loneliness.
âBury a Friend,â with a pulsing, nervous undercurrent and sampled screams, veers between mourning, lashing out and self-destructive thoughts. âIlomiloâ has a briskly plinking, near-ska beat, but it worries over a suicidal friend: âI might break/If youâre gonna die not by mistake.â In âListen Before I Go,â a glacial piano ballad with looming reverberations, the narrator herself is suicidal; âSorry, canât save me,â she warns, and sirens at the end suggest the worst. Itâs followed by the whispery âI Love You,â a hovering, hesitant confession: âI donât want to, but I love you.â
Eilish began her career establishing what kind of pop star she doesnât intend to be. With her debut album, sheâs even tougher: tough enough to show some heart.
â
Billie Eilish
âWhen We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go?â
(Darkroom/Interscope)
This article originally appeared in The New York Times.