There comes a point in every great rock band’s career where volume alone is no longer enough, where the riffs can still hit like a freight train, and where the choruses can still fill arenas. However, longevity demands something heavier than distortion – it demands honesty. The Pretty Reckless’ “DEAR GOD” has reached that moment.
Five albums into a career that has seen Taylor Momsen evolve from one of rock’s most recognisable frontwomen into one of its most compelling songwriters, this album feels less like another chapter and more like a confession. The record strips away much of the mythology that has surrounded the band for over a decade, replacing grand statements with deeply personal reflections on grief, faith, identity and survival. It’s the sound of a band no longer trying to prove they belong among modern rock’s elite—they’ve already done that. Now they’re trying to understand themselves.
Across fifteen tracks, The Pretty Reckless expand beyond the muscular hard rock that first defined them, embracing blues, acoustic passages, gospel undertones and quieter moments that allow emotion to breathe. None of it feels experimental for experimentation’s sake, as every stylistic shift serves the same emotional purpose: exposing wounds that previous records often buried beneath towering guitar walls. The album’s themes of mortality, chaos, redemption and self-discovery remain remarkably cohesive throughout, making this album feel less like a collection of songs than a single emotional arc.
Taylor Momsen has described the album as the most honest record the band has ever made, and it’s difficult to disagree. There’s an exhaustion running through much of the record – not the exhaustion of creative burnout, but of someone who’s spent years carrying emotional weight and has finally decided to stop pretending everything is fine. Taylor has never hidden behind polished perfection as a vocalist, and her voice has always thrived because of its imperfections: the rasp, the cracks, the moments where emotion overrides technical precision. Here, those qualities become the album’s greatest strength. That vulnerability becomes even more significant when viewed against her own journey. Long before becoming one of modern rock’s defining voices, Taylor spent her childhood in front of cameras before ultimately walking away from acting to devote herself entirely to music—a decision she has repeatedly described as allowing her to finally become herself rather than another character.
Where much of the album wrestles with darkness, About You finds beauty inside emotional surrender. The arrangement slowly unfolds rather than exploding into life, allowing every instrument to serve the song instead of competing for attention. Ben Phillips’ guitar work is restrained but devastatingly effective, choosing atmosphere over technical exhibition. The result is one of the band’s most affecting performances to date.
Many rock ballads mistake volume for emotion, believing that louder automatically means more meaningful. However, The Pretty Reckless avoid that trap entirely. Instead, the album builds through patience. Every chorus feels earned because the verses refuse to rush toward it. The emotional payoff arrives naturally, making the final moments land with surprising force. Despite being the band’s fifth studio album, nothing about it feels complacent, as there is no sense that The Pretty Reckless are simply recreating previous successes or chasing another radio hit. Instead, they’ve embraced the uncomfortable reality that growth often means exposing parts of yourself you’d rather leave hidden.
