By Colin 
Lola Young built her reputation on imperfection. Many listeners first encountered her through ‘Messy’, last year’s unflinching portrait of self-sabotage, but by then she had already released two albums and carved out a loyal following. With her third record I’m Only F**king Myself, she confronts expectation directly and refuses to offer neat answers.
The single ‘Post Sex Clarity’ stands as one of the album’s most affecting moments. It begins with restraint, letting her voice linger over sparse chords before swelling into something chaotic and unresolved. That structure mirrors the contradictions of intimacy itself: fragile in one instant, overwhelming in the next.
Confrontation and conflict
This album thrives on confrontation. Lola writes about desire, addiction, and toxic relationships without disguising their mess. Some tracks are deliberately abrasive, charging forward with jagged riffs and shouted refrains. Others pull back, exposing fragility through cracked vocals and hushed instrumentation.
The contrast works in her favour. ‘F*CK EVERYONE’ is brash and unapologetic, built to rattle speakers. By comparison, ‘why do i feel better when i hurt you?’ strips everything down to near silence, amplifying the weight of her words. That willingness to swing between extremes makes the record unpredictable yet consistently gripping.
Lyrical honesty
Lola’s lyricism cuts deepest when she writes about contradiction. In ‘D£aler’ she captures the frozen instant before change, a moment suspended between wanting to break free and fearing the cost of doing so. ‘One Thing’, while catchy, occasionally falters with clumsy turns of phrase that undercut its power. These missteps, however, highlight the risk she takes in aiming for total honesty.
What elevates the writing is her refusal to polish away the raw edges. She does not conceal anger or longing beneath metaphor. Instead she speaks plainly, often to the point of discomfort. That rawness gives the record its sting.
Vocal range and delivery
Her voice remains her defining strength. Lola snarls, croons, and whispers, moving between vulnerability and defiance with ease. On ‘Spiders’ she sounds urgent and forceful, balancing melodic clarity with sharp grit. The closing track ‘who f**king cares?’ pares everything back to guitar and voice, showing how much intensity she can conjure with minimal support.
That performance is crucial to the album’s impact. Even when the production threatens to overwhelm, her delivery slices through. She sounds equally convincing in moments of nihilism, rage, or fragile hope, and that range anchors the whole record.
An album in motion
Taken as a whole, I’m Only F**king Myself feels restless. Styles shift quickly, moods rise and collapse without clear warning. Some listeners may wish for more cohesion, but the turbulence feels true to its subject matter. It is an album about chaos, and the structure mirrors that chaos.
Rather than sanding down rough edges, Lola chooses to reveal them. The result is sometimes messy but never dull. The ambition to capture everything at once-pain, joy, fury, relief-means the record occasionally stumbles, yet those imperfections are central to its power.
Beyond ‘Messy’
For listeners who only know her through ‘Messy’, this album shows how wide her range can be. She is not confined to one sound or one narrative. Across these tracks she explores grit, tenderness, humour, and despair, often within the same song.
That willingness to shift voice and style suggests an artist still shaping her identity. The fact that she does not settle into one lane is less a flaw than a sign of restlessness. Rather than mimic what came before, she is intent on carving her own ground.
Review verdict
Lola Young has created an album that is chaotic, vulnerable, and unflinchingly bold. I’m Only F**king Myself is not always even, but its best moments are undeniable. Tracks such as ‘Post Sex Clarity’, ‘D£aler’, and ‘Spiders’ highlight her ability to combine lyrical honesty with commanding vocal delivery.
The unevenness of the record mirrors its themes. It is about contradiction, confusion, and the struggle for identity, and it never tries to tidy that into something neat. That refusal is what makes it resonate. In its flaws, it finds truth; in its chaos, it finds strength.