Poppy - Empty Hands
Poppy’s seventh studio album continues her ongoing excavation of metal’s terrain. Her ideas are often as ambitious as their execution is unwieldy.
To call Poppy’s artistic trajectory unconventional would be an understatement. She began as an enigmatic YouTube presence, uploading odd, deadpan videos whose intent felt deliberately opaque. Over time, that persona morphed into a hyper-online pop star, with early co-signs from Diplo and Grimes helping cement her status among internet-native pop devotees. Then something shifted. In 2020, Poppy abruptly detonated expectations with I Disagree, a metal-leaning release that opened an entirely new chapter in her career. Six years later, she returns with Empty Hands, her seventh full-length, co-created with former Bring Me the Horizon member Jordan Fish.
On one level, Empty Hands delivers exactly what fans of “heavy” Poppy have come to expect. The record crackles and combusts; she offers some of the most tuneful vocal performances of her career while still indulging in the feral screams that have become her trademark. Yet the album repeatedly stumbles over its own familiarity. Poppy begins to sink into a loop of self-imitation. Fish’s presence looms large here, ushering her toward a monotonous brand of metalcore that sands down her idiosyncrasies. Rather than sounding singular, she often comes off as another competent genre entry.
Take “Unravel” and “Guardian”, both released as pre-album singles. By Poppy’s standards, they feel overly cautious and disarmingly plain. When placed next to the striking audacity of her previous record, Negative Spaces, these tracks resemble unfinished demos—not bad songs, but ones that fail to offer a compelling hook or lasting impression.
The pre-release period fared better with “Bruised Sky” and “Time Will Tell”, two of the album’s stronger moments. Neither attempts anything revolutionary, but Poppy sounds more assured and direct. “Bruised Sky” channels the coiled intensity associated with Spiritbox, while “Time Will Tell” strikes a satisfying balance between melody and brute force. Elsewhere, “If We’re Following the Light” and “Dying to Forget” briefly recapture the adrenaline rush that once made I Disagree and Negative Spaces standout moments in her catalog. The album also closes on a high note: the title track “Empty Hands” is arguably its best cut—a final, cathartic eruption where Poppy howls, growls, and collides pop sensibility with nu-metal under pounding, martial drums.
The central issue with Empty Hands is that it’s simply dull. Poppy’s vocals have improved markedly over the years, but the music surrounding them has grown increasingly uniform. The dazzling genre alchemy that defined Flux is largely absent; most tracks operate on the same skeletal framework. None are outright failures, yet listener fatigue sets in well before the halfway point. Longtime fans will likely find plenty to enjoy, but for everyone else, Empty Hands risks blurring into a vague, indistinct mass.
There’s an uneasy sense that Poppy is beginning to lose the individuality that once endeared her to rock audiences—the experimental impulse, the hunger for unfamiliar textures. Her seventh album leaves her at an awkward crossroads. There’s always a choice: repeat what’s already worked, or push forward into the unknown. The former isn’t inherently wrong—you don’t fix a bike that still rides. But sometimes the chain slips, and progress becomes a struggle. Empty Hands isn’t a bad album; it’s just far too safe for an artist as multifaceted as Poppy.
6.3/10
