I’m Only F**king Myself by Lola Young

Lola Young, the 25-year old South London-born singer/songwriter whose third album I’m Only F**king Myself is #26 this year, follows in the same mold as Amy Winehouse and Sinead O’Connor: generation-defining artists who battled mental illness and rode a roller coaster of emotions in the public eye for all to mock and criticize. As a refresher, Winehouse was afflicted with addiction and the chaos that surrounds it, leading to her death in 2011 of alcohol toxicity at the age of 27. O’Connor had a long, tumultuous relationship with her fame, was diagnosed bipolar at 33 and suffered from the illness that led her to attempt suicide many times throughout her life before finally succumbing to it when she was 56.

Watching troubled, raw performers like Winehouse and O’Connor is a form of spectator sport, not unlike watching an F1 race solely for the major accidents and sometimes death that follows. It’s a sick transfixion, the three-car pileup on the opposite side of the highway that you can’t look away from, and it’s impossible to separate that fixation from the beauty of the songwriting.

The fame and trouble that surrounds Lola Young started early on. She was diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder and ADHD at 17, just after she was appearing on British television and winning a televised open-mic under-16 competition. She released her first EP when she was 18, and her debut album, My Mind Wanders and Sometimes Leaves Completely, at 23. Her follow-up album, This Wasn’t Meant For You, came out in 2024 and contained the single “Messy” that blasted her to the top of the charts and brought an unexpected level of scrutiny and fame that wore her down even more. (If you’ve not heard “Messy” before, I suggest pausing here and clicking the link above – it’s a fantastic, gut-wrenching song.)

Whereas the latest Taylor Swift album has lyrics that make me cringe and skip a song or two when I’m in the car with my daughter, Lola Young’s excellent third album, I’m Only F**king Myself¹, has the exact opposite problem – it’s raunchy enough that I can’t listen to it in the presence of my family at all. There’s maybe two or three songs that I’d feel comfortable playing in my living room. But there’s no denying the artistry. Young has an ability to sound big and every bit the pop star you’d expect at her level, but then brings you down to earth quickly with her deeply raw, direct, and self-deprecating lyrics.

It’s interesting, learning where these unstated internal parenting lines are drawn for me and my family – Kendrick Lamar (last year’s #1 album, GNX, has been played in my house and car weekly on average for over a year now) can drop multiple expletives in every song he records, and I don’t give it a second thought. His use of “fucking” is rarely (if ever?) about the act itself. And my aversion to the use of that word in certain instances is not itself about the act of sex (I’m happy to field any and all questions that may arise around that topic with my 8-year-old), but, as I’ve learned via Lola Young, is specifically about the crude, often degrading and horrible use of the word to describe sex-without-love that gives me a visceral negative reaction. It’s similar to hearing the c-word, which also features a couple times on the album. You can call someone a cunt all day long and it won’t phase me. But if you use to refer to human anatomy, in a negative and crass way, then it hits differently.

This is a great album, but consider yourself warned. There’s an immense amount of pain and suffering spelled out in these songs, and while I truly hope Young is able to continue her career while avoiding the pitfalls of her illnesses and addictions, I fear the worst. She’s released a video for every song on the album, so there is no shortage of watching Young and learning what she’s all about. I chose “who f**king cares?” to feature above because the lone acoustic guitar and the internal-dialog-as-lyrics are exactly what I love about Young’s songwriting. But know that the rest of the album is much more raucous. I suggest starting with “Not Like That Anymore” or “d£aler” for a taste of Young at her biggest and brightest.

how long will it take to walk a mile? (interlude)
F**K EVERYONE
One Thing
d£aler
SPIDERS
Penny Out of Nothing
Walk All Over You
Post Sex Clarity
SAD SOB STORY! :)
CAN WE IGNORE IT? :(
why do i feel better when i hurt you?
Not Like That Anymore
who f**king cares? (featured above)
ur an absolute c word (interlude)

Find some headphones and put I’m Only F**king Myself on. You’ll be pleasantly surprised, until you start hearing the lyrics, and then you’ll likely be horrified. But if you’re like me, the juxtaposition of the two emotions mixes into a cocktail of aural greatness that will keep you engaged and coming back for more.

^{1. Note the asterisks in the album title are hers – I’m not censoring the title myself, the title is inherently censored by Young.↩}