Review: Lily Allen — West End Girl

Lily Allen
West End Girl
BMG
Street: 10.24.2025
Lily Allen = Avril Lavigne + HAIM + Olivia Dean

My heart truly belongs to the pop girlies of the early 2000s and among the most underrated is Lily Allen. Post-90s, there was a sudden wave of women musicians and singer-songwriters, which I feel in some ways mirrors today’s musical landscape. Women are absolutely dominating the field with Sabrina Carpenter, Charli xcx and Doechii to name a few. So this album feels aptly timed, like it came out exactly when it was meant to — the girls have never been tighter. It’s as if Allen dropped this knowing that it would be received the way it was supposed to, like her comeback was inevitable. Is it embarrassing to have a boyfriend right now? Is it possible that platonic female friendships are just as important as romantic relationships? If reality TV shows are one of the most consumed types of media, why not capture and transform that same drama into a new medium entirely? West End Girl is truly the album that no one (except for maybe me) was asking for, yet everyone needed.

In a tell-all operatic pop record, Allen has managed to reignite and reestablish the reputation she had at the start of her career. Every track is a simple reminder of her world-building prowess and instinctual sense of melody. The title reference to the Pet Shop Boys is nothing short of pop culture perfection. Elegantly lacing drama with upbeat indie-tronica, there is so much heart and personal affection in the sound. There is something cathartic about hearing such a well-done and artful project that is proof within itself that one can know heartbreak and live afterwards. The lyrics breathe and echo, they shape and shift the narrative to create a crystal clear image of her pain. The story is of the ending of her marriage with Stranger Things star David Harbour and the earth-shattering spiral that ensued. Many of the details are left ambiguous, like a pseudonym being used for the person that allegedly Harbour was having an affair with. While others are clearly stated, like a reenacted voice-recording of a Facetime call with only Allen speaking being in the center of the first song that is titled after the album. The outcome is a distinguishably earnest recollection of the separation that is akin to revealing sordid facts to friends at Sunday brunch.

The release of this album reminded fans of an Architectural Digest video from 2023, showing Harbour and Allen’s home in New York City. The interior design was deemed busy and wild, with many different patterns, some clashing and some harmonious. It seems as though the choices were mainly Allen’s; I feel as though they could be reflective of a want of hers for an escapist environment amidst a distressing internal world, while navigating distrust with her husband. Like a storybook romance gone wrong, the colorful walls grow dull and deluded as the days go on. The visual representation of this album is therefore much attributed to this house tour, as well as the album cover art. The cover is a painting which depicts Allen donning a polka dot puffer jacket, sitting in a fashion as regal as Catherine the Great or Tiger Woods’ wife. She’s like the Princess Diana of pop music. There is a baroque, almost platitudinous statement being made within the art — all while being brand new. 

Let’s talk about Allen’s specialty: lyrics. Being known for refreshingly barefaced and candid writing, Allen delivered in the honesty department. In “Ruminating,” she says “And I can’t shake the image of her naked / On top of you and I’m dissociated,” which reads like half jealous confession and half desperate devotion. Later while discussing the games played during an affair in “Tennis,” she writes, “So I read your texts / And now I regret it / I can’t get my head ’round how you’ve been playing tennis / If it was just sex / I wouldn’t be jealous.” In her expose about repeated patterns, “Relapse,” the lyrics read “You’ve made such a fucking mess / I tried to be your modern wife / But the child in me protests.” The truth is spilling out of the seams of these songs, which is highlighted in “Dallas Major,” when she sings “You know I used to be quite famous, that was way back in the day / Yes, I’m here for validation and I probably should explain / How my marriage has been open since my husband went astray” she’s expressing an alter ego seeking a sense of recognition. Other notable titles that tell of Allen’s talent with wordplay are Pussy Palace,”  “4chan Stan” and “Nonmonogamummy.”

The last I had heard about Allen previous to this anthology was that she said on a podcast that she started selling foot pics on OnlyFans. They say one is only as good as their last performance. Allen is committed to being transparent in many aspects of her life; she understands the power of presence and how timing is everything when it comes to making a statement. The only thing that is different about this record in comparison to her previous is that it was clearly made to fit contemporary audible tastes. With as much cheeky bite as Smile, as much comic-fueled rage as “Not Fair” and as much tactical brilliance as “The Fear,” it is evident that old honest habits die hard. In the words of the Sheezus herself, “Fuck you very, very much.” —Marzia Thomas

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