Alessia Cara: Love & Hyperbole Album Review

What does an artist who has already won a Grammy, earned multiple platinum certifications, and even scored a Disney hit do next? If you’re Alessia Cara, you don’t chase trends or try to recreate past successes; you evolve with intention.

A decade after her breakout, Alessia Cara returns with a fourth album, Love & Hyperbole, her most mature and refined yet. Across 14 tracks and 46 minutes, she unpacks love in all its messy, fleeting, and transformative forms. In a pop landscape that often favors instant trends and made-for-radio hits, Love & Hyperbole offers something richer: a fusion of confessional songwriting and lush, cinematic production that feels both deeply personal and universally resonant.

The album opens with “Go Outside!” a doo-wop-infused track that builds on thick drums and rich harmonies. “How can I come back to Earth when I can't go outside?” sings the Canadian artist, caught in a cycle of isolation and longing. It’s a fitting prelude to “Left Alone,” which plays the wiser, more self-assured counterpart, acknowledging that some things are best left untouched. The lead single, “Dead Man,” is a clear standout, blending orchestral flourishes with syncopated beats and punchy horns. “This is the first time I recorded most of an album live with musicians in the room—bringing back the energy of 50s, 60s, and 70s music,” says Cara. The da-da-da, da-da-da refrains lend a retro sheen of classic pop and soul, while Cara’s soaring vocals inject a sense of urgency. There’s weight behind her words when she sings, “He’s slipping through my hands, but I can walk right through him.” The ghost metaphor is obvious but effective; Cara is reaching for something that no longer exists, and she knows it.

Love & Hyperbole brings together an eclectic mix of collaborators, with Mike Elizondo (Linkin Park, Fiona Apple, Nelly Furtado) as a key creative force across multiple tracks. Other familiar names include Greg Kurstin (Adele, Beyoncé) and hitmakers like Ammo (Britney Spears, Katy Perry) and Yeti Beats (Doja Cat). The album cover itself hints at the themes within: two versions of Cara holding each other, symbolizing both duality and self-reliance. “Hyperbole plays two roles: it softens heavy emotions through humor, but also reflects the extreme highs and lows of love—how it can feel like the most important thing in the world,” she explains. 

Cara moves fluidly between sonic textures, drawing from live instrumentation and personal influences like Stevie Wonder, Billy Joel, and Joni Mitchell.Things slow down with the beginning of “Subside,” a song built on hushed vocals before swelling into something more cinematic. It harkens back to Cara’s YouTube covers that first propelled her to fame, making it a fitting touch for an album that arrives more than a decade later. Lyrically, it resonates with most of us – time slipping away and getting stuck in the past – but the violins make this one stand out. They weave in and out, adding layers of emotion that Cara doesn’t need to over-explain. The album’s rawest moment comes with “Run Run,” a song that leans into Cara’s raspier vocal register. It’s also the only explicit track on the album, an uncharacteristic move but one that suits the song’s unfiltered emotion: “This briefcase of old shit is heavy in my hands.”

The boldest collaboration comes on “(Isn’t It) Obvious,” which features an extended guitar solo from the one and only John Mayer. It’s a seamless fit, sliding into the album’s more organic, instrument-heavy aesthetic while adding a bit of late-night, slow-burn rock energy. Love & Hyperbole really shines in the production choices that push Cara beyond her usual comfort zones. The tenth track, “Nighttime Thing,” is sleek and mature, both sonically and lyrically, dipping into a fun pop sound with a pulse reminiscent of Doja Cat’s “Ride.” This comes as no surprise since both tracks were produced by Yeti Beats. It’s a song about wanting something deeper and more meaningful, and the track mirrors that sentiment with instrumentation and dynamic vocal delivery. 

Then there’s “Fire,” which Cara herself describes as a breakthrough. “It’s the first time I’ve written a love song without fear attached to it,” she explains. Sonically, it echoes “Stone” from her debut album, “Know-It-All,” but with a newfound ease. This track is a safe-haven on Love & Hyperbole, a place to retreat when the rest of the album gets too heavy.

While Cara has always been skilled at making universal sentiments feel personal, she’s never been one to throw in fillers. Every track here serves a purpose, even when they diverge stylistically. “Clearly” closes things out with a shimmering, pop-rock moment that underscores the album’s themes of clarity and resolution. 

Overall, Love & Hyperbole is a mature pop record that doesn’t rely on gimmicks but instead builds on rich instrumentation, sharp songwriting, and emotional depth. It’s the rare kind of pop album that values storytelling as much as melody, proving that growth doesn’t mean sacrificing accessibility. More than anything, Love & Hyperbole is the kind of album that deserves proper recognition. At the very least, it’s a clear contender for Best Pop Vocal Album at the next Grammys.

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