The 22-year-old California songwriter turns romantic collapse into a visceral 34-minute diary with Early Twenties Torture, released on 24 October 2025. It is not another breakup record. It is a study of how easily we unravel when love turns on us and how much of that damage we inflict on ourselves.
The title sets the stage. Jean digs into the growing pains of early adulthood, the first real attachments, the first real losses and the first time you admit you chose someone who was never good for you. She sits in the jealousy, the warped self-worth, the mistakes you swear you will not make again and somehow repeat anyway.
“I Tried” opens everything in a hush. Spare piano, vocals held deliberately steady, the kind of restraint that tells on itself. Jean wrote the song in July 2023 while still inside the breakup and the immediacy leaks through every line. She is not only mourning what fell apart. She is mourning the version of herself she offered to someone who did not want it.
“Somebody’s Everything” follows like a slow collapse, guitar-led, intimate and blunt about the disorientation of going from essential to forgettable. Jean puts words to a psychological shift most people avoid admitting: the way losing that status destabilises your sense of self.
“Slow Burn” pulls apart another romantic myth. Jean once loved the idea of long-simmering affection, the kind you wait for because books and films insist it is worth it. Her version sounds drained rather than hopeful. Weighted minor keys and vocals that feel rubbed raw from months of overthinking someone who was never truly present.
“Move On First” is the album’s emotional strike. It captures the private panic of watching the person you loved drift towards someone new and wanting just a little more time to stop hurting before it happens. The hook lands like a confession people only make in cars or at two in the morning.
“I Do not Know Better” turns inward. Strings swell around her, creating a suffocating atmosphere as she admits she is staying in something she knows is unhealthy. It is love as fixation and she does not pretend otherwise.
“She’s Dating My Boyfriend” shifts the tone without losing weight. The conversational delivery and subtle country edges make it sting even more. Jean scrutinises the new girl with a mix of envy, curiosity and self-critique that feels almost too accurate to read comfortably.
“Out Of My Body” is quieter but heavier. Simple piano lines and near-bare vocals mirror the numbness she describes. It is about using relationships as hiding places and realising it only delays the inevitable crash.
“The One That I Want (But I Do not Know Why)” jolts the album awake. Brighter production, layered harmonies and a restless pulse match the confusion of wanting someone who objectively makes no sense. Jean leans into the chaos instead of explaining it away.
“I Miss My Friend” drops back into stillness. The ache here is not just romantic. It is the void left when you lose the person who knew your routines, jokes and fears. The grief feels doubled and the arrangement gives it room to settle.
“This Time Around” is bittersweet in a very adult way. The melody lifts but the melancholy remains underneath as Jean accepts she was part of someone else’s development rather than their future. The track’s soft glow makes that acceptance feel grounded.
“Know You Forever” arrives like warmth after a long winter. It is a love letter to steady, platonic connection, the kind that does not demand performance or self-sacrifice. After so much turbulence, its simplicity feels almost restorative.
The closer, “See You on Sunday”, ends the album on a careful inhale. Saxophone threads through a gentle, nostalgic arrangement as Jean lets herself lean into possibility without forcing promises. After everything she has admitted and endured, the willingness to try again feels like the album’s quiet triumph.
Early Twenties Torture encapsulates the envy, the fixation, the denial and the bruised longing, and they are all treated as worthy of attention. Her influences, from Coldplay to Joni Mitchell to Taylor Swift to Phoebe Bridgers, appear not through imitation but through the seriousness with which she approaches emotional storytelling.
Across twelve tracks, the production stays purposeful and uncluttered, allowing the writing to speak. It sounds like a debut from someone who already trusts her instincts.
The takeaway stretches far beyond heartbreak. Love in your early twenties might feel catastrophic, but it does not finish you. You find steadier people. You learn your limits. Eventually, you give yourself permission to try again.
Sadie Jean has not only delivered a strong debut. She has captured the emotional texture of an age most people spend years trying to forget or rewrite.