Kitchen Feedback

A reminder that finding your voice can sometimes save you

I haven’t written an album review in eight years.

That isn’t because I stopped listening to music. If anything, music became more important over that time. What disappeared was the writing. Writing had always been how I processed emotions, anxiety, made sense of difficult experiences, and found clarity and calm amidst the noise. When I stopped, I lost a part of myself.

So returning to album reviews feels both intimidating and exhilarating. It is perhaps fitting that my first review back is Amy Shark’s soft pop, an album that feels like its own exercise in rediscovery.

There are very few songwriters who can turn the contents (made-up or otherwise) of their diary into compelling music. Many artists attempt confessional songwriting and end up sounding either self-indulgent or awkwardly overexposed. Amy Shark has always possessed a rare gift: the ability to write about intensely personal experiences while making listeners feel as though she’s telling parts of their story too.

That intimacy is hardly accidental. soft pop marks a notable return to basics for Amy, who wrote the album herself without outside co-writers or featured artists. The result is a collection of songs that feel personal, cohesive and deeply connected to her voice as a songwriter.

One of the album’s greatest strengths lies in its restraint. The songwriting and production adopt a noticeably stripped-back approach, allowing the lyrics and melodies to take centre stage. Rather than chasing oversized choruses or glossy pop spectacle, Shark trusts the songs to stand on their own. The arrangements are spacious and thoughtful, creating an intimacy that makes the listener feel less like an audience member and more like a confidant. That confidence in simplicity pays dividents throughout the record.

My favourite track is “The Biggest Dick.” On paper, the title promises a tongue-in-cheek novelty song, but Amy is far too clever a writer for that. Beneath the humour lies a sharp observation about attraction, impulsiveness and the irrational choices people make in the name of love. The track is elevated by a wonderfully playful bassline that gives it swagger and momentum. It bounces through the song with confidence, providing the perfect counterweight to Amy’s lyrics. It is cheeky, catchy and endlessly replayable.

“Movies” is that song that stayed with me the longest. It captures the space between expectation and reality, examining the romantic narratives we create for ourselves and the inevitable messiness that follows. Amy has always excelled at finding universally in specific details, and she does so beautifully here. The catchy melodies truly work their magic on this track.

Then there is “Like a Doll,” perhaps the album’s mostly quietly affecting moment. The song unfolds patiently, revealing its emotional depth over repeated listens. Amy wisely avoids over-singing the material, allowing the lyrics to carry its weight.

What I admire most about soft pop is its sense of clarity. Amy has described the album as a creative reset, created after a period in which she felt disconnected from the joy of songwriting. Listening to the record, that renewed sense of purpose is palpable. The songs sound lighter, freer and more comfortable in their own skin. Rather than trying to be bigger, soft pop succeeds by being more honest.

Not every song announces itself immediately. Some tracks reveal their strengths gradually over repeated listens. But that consistency becomes one of the album’s defining virtues. There are no dramatic missteps, no moments of unnecessary excess, and no attempts to manufacture significance. The record succeeds because it understands that vulnerability does not need a loud soundtrack.

Perhaps that is why soft pop resonated with me so deeply.

At a time when I was rediscovering writing, an activity that helped me save me from myself repeatedly in recent times, Amy Shark delivered an album built around the simple act of trusting one’s voice again. Listening to these songs reminded me why I started writing in the first place. Sometimes finding your voice is not about discovering something new. Sometimes it is simply about remembering who you were before you stopped speaking.

For me, soft pop arrived at exactly the right moment.