THE PRETTY RECKLESS 'DEAR GOD' REVIEW

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Fifteen years on from Light Me Up, The Pretty Reckless find themselves in a fascinating position. Over the course of five albums, they have evolved from one of rocks most promising young bands, into one of its most dependable forces, consistently balancing radio-ready hooks with genuine emotional depth. Last year saw them reflecting on that journey, celebrating their debut albums anniversary and revisiting another part of front woman Taylor Momsen’s past through their Christmas EP. Yet whilst Dear God carries traces of nostalgia, it is far from an exercise in looking backwards. Instead, it feels like a band taking stock of everything they have experienced and emerging with a renewed sense of purpose. 

If Light Me Up captured youthful rebellion and Going To hell weaponised religious imagery to challenge convention, Dear God strips away the armour and exposes the wounds underneath. The difference is perspective. The youthful rebellion that once fuelled those records has been replaced by something more nuanced. There is still anger here, still temptation, still defiance, but now those emotions are filtered through years of loss, growth, grief and self-reflection. The result is an album preoccupied with mortality, faith, isolation, addition, redemption, and the difficult task of finding meaning amidst chaos. 

What makes Dear God so compelling is that it never treats those themes as seperate ideas. Instead, they constantly bleed into one another. Death informs self-destruction. Self-destruction fuels isolation. Isolation sparks a search for faith. Faith gives way to questions of redemption. Every song feels connected to the larger emotional architecture of the record, creating an experience that unfolds less like a collection of tracks and more like a conversation with itself. That conversation begins with death.

The blistering lead single, For I Am Death, serves as the albums mission statement. Opening with a vicious guitar line that immediately captures your attention, the track finds Momsen personifying death itself as she grapples with grief, devastation and the passage of time. It is a bold conceptual move, but one that perfectly introduces the albums fascination with mortality. Rather than treating death as an abstract fear, she gives it a voice, allowing listeners to confront it directly. Yet the songs brilliance lies in how much space it leaves for interpretation. Whether listeners hear grief, addiction, trauma or the inevitability of ageing within its lyrics, the song remains hauntingly universal. 

From there, Dear God explores the ways people respond to that awareness of mortality. When I Wake Up barrels headfirst into self-destruction, capturing a life spiralling through excess, impulse and recklessness. Its vibrant energy and swagger make it one of the albums most deceptively dark moments. The song recalls the spirit of Going To Hell’s final single Fucked Up World, but beneath its infectious momentum lies the same existential anxiety introduced by For I Am Death. If death is waiting at the end regardless, why not race towards the edge? That question resurfaces repeatedly throughout the record. Rollercoaster Of Life later presents two competing paths: one defined by longevity and stability, the other by living fast and risking everything. Together, these songs create a recurring tension that runs through the albums core. The characters inhabiting Dear God are constantly standing at crossroads, pulled between survival and self-destruction, acceptance and escape. 

Yet for all its darkness, Dear God is ultimately less interested in death than it is in what people reach for when confronted by it. Faith has occupied a significant place within The Pretty Reckless’ catalogue, but here it feels more personal than ever before. Rather than using religious imagery as provocation, Momsen uses it as a framework through which to examine vulnerability and longing. The albums emotional centre emerges through the pairing of Love Me and the title track, both of which find her reaching beyond herself in search of connection.

On Love Me, that search manifests through raw desperation. Beneath its surface lies a profound loneliness, as Momsen wrestles with depression, isolation and a crisis of faith. There is no bravado here, only a plea to be seen, understood and loved. The vulnerability is startling, precisely because it feels so unfiltered. That emotional thread carries directly into Dear God, which serves as the thematic heart of the album. Here, the plea becomes even more urgent. Momsen sings from the depths of despair, bargaining with a higher power for salvation. Here, ‘God’ could become a stand-in for whatever force people reach towards when they have exhausted every other option. Whether interpreted through religion, hope or human connection, the song captures the universal desire to be pulled back from the brink. 

It is important to note, the album never remains trapped in despair. Running parallel to its themes of mortality and faith is an equally powerful thread of rebirth and resilience. Dragonfire embodies that idea. Beginning with acoustic momentum and blues-infused swagger before expanding, the song feels like a phoenix rising from the ashes. The central image of dragon fire transforms destruction into empowerment, suggesting that survival itself can become a source of strength. It is one of several moments where the album shifts away from merely documenting pain and begins exploring what comes after it. 

That sense of hard-earned perspective becomes even more apparent during the albums closing stretch. Devil In Disguise (Michelle’s Song) is among the records most striking moments. Its folk-leaning instrumentation creates a gentle backdrop for reflections on lifestyle duality. There is grief woven into every corner of the song, yet it never feels consumed by sadness. Instead, it acknowledges that joy and pain inevitably coexist. Likewise, Dark Days finds Momsen arriving at a place of reckoning. Wrapped in a seventies-inspired atmosphere that evokes Stevie Nicks at her most reflective, the song recognises that darkness will always exist somewhere on the horizon. Rather than fearing it, she learns to live alongside it. It is not a triumphant ending, but it is an honest one. 

The albums structure plays a significant role in making these themes resonate. The three Life Evermore interludes act as emotional checkpoints throughout the journey. Their focus on freedom, substance abuse and surrender mirrors the larger narrative arc whilst providing moments of reflection between the albums heavier emotional blows. That cohesion extends to the bands musicianship, which is arguably some of the strongest of their career. 

One of the albums greatest strengths is its refusal to rely solely on volume or heaviness. The Pretty Reckless understand the importance of dynamics, and Dear God thrives because of it. Songs breathe. They expand and contract. Acoustic passages are allowed to linger before electric guitars crash through them. Quiet introspection is followed by explosive catharsis. Every musical decision feels designed to serve the emotional trajectory of the record. Ben Phillips’ guitar work is particularly outstanding throughout. Wether delivering the razor-sharp riffs of For I Am Death, the bluesy textures that define Dragonfire, the eerie atmosphere of Dear God, or the folk-infused restraint of Devil In Disguise (Michelle’s Song), his playing consistently shapes the emotional identity of each song. He understands when to dominate a track and when to pull back, allowing atmosphere and storytelling to take precedence.

Equally important is the rhythm section. Mark Damon’s bass work provides a constant sense of weight and movement beneath the albums shifting mood, whilst Jamie Perkins’ drumming demonstrates remarkable versatility. From the driving urgency of the records heavier moments to the more restrained and nuanced performances that characterise its quieter songs, Perkins never overplays. Instead, he anchors the albums emotions ebb and flow with precision and purpose. Together, the band operate with the confidence of musicians who understand exactly what each song requires. There are no unnecessary flourishes, no moments that feel self-indulgent. Every instrumental choice contributes to the larger narrative.

At the centre of it all stands Taylor Momsen. The formidable frontwoman has spent years establishing herself as one of rocks most compelling vocalists, but Dear God may be the record that fully cements her status among the great vocalists of modern music. Her performance throughout the album is nothing short of extraordinary. She moves effortlessly between vulnerability and power, often within the same line. On For I Am Death, she becomes a chilling embodiment of mortality itself. On Love me and Dear God, she sounds heartbreakingly exposed. On songs like Dragonfire and When I Wake Up, she unleashes the kind of commanding rock-and-roll presence few singers can match.

What separates Momsen from many of her contemporaries is her ability to make every note feel emotionally necessary. She never sings merely to impress. Every growl, crack, whisper and soaring high note serves the song. Her voice has become an instrument capable of conveying enormous power without sacrificing intimacy, and Dear God repeatedly showcases both qualities at their absolute peak. In a genre constantly searching for its next iconic voice, Momsen has quietly become something rarer: an enduring one. Not simply one of rocks finest vocalists, but one of the most distinctive and emotionally affecting singers working in music today.

With Dear God, The Pretty Reckless have delivered one of the most complete statements of their career. It honours the spirit of their earlier work, whilst demonstrating just how much they have grown as songwriters, musicians, and storytellers. Through its interconnected themes, meticulous construction, dynamic musicianship and career-defining performances, the album achieves a balance that few bands ever manage. It is dark without becoming hopeless, vulnerable without becoming fragile, and ambitious without losing sight of its humanity. 

Dear God is out June 26.