Polly Finds Her Balance On Ice
A controlled fall you learn from.
Polly’s second album, Ice Skater, lands like a controlled fall you learn from, not one that knocks you out. Across eleven tracks, she maps the emotional physics of a breakup, from the sharp fury of Hate You Forever to the tentative release of Beautiful. It opens unsteady, fueled by anger and escape fantasies, then slowly steadies itself through longing, distraction, and repetition.
The record understands heartbreak as choreography. You wobble, you spin, you repeat the same move until it finally clicks. There is humor here, too. Eighties pop gloss, Disney-lite melodies, Thelma & Louise references, and self-aware winks keep the album grounded in the present. Ice Skater knows its own drama and refuses to drown in it. Even at its most tender, Polly’s songwriting stays precise, intimate, and emotionally literate, like someone narrating their healing in real time. From Heartbreak to The Turning Point arrives mid-album, where repetition gives way to resilience. Rockstar and Haircut shift the focus outward, toward friendship, support, and small acts of self-renewal that quietly change everything.
By the time Polly reaches What If and Beautiful, she is no longer skating in circles. She is gliding forward, softer but steadier, letting her voice carry what the sparse arrangements leave unsaid. Ice Skater is a breakup album that does not mythologize pain or rush closure. It sits with the awkward middle. It honors the process.
Polly emerges not unscathed, but balanced, offering a record that feels both deeply personal and universally familiar to anyone who has ever had to relearn how to stand after the ice gives way.
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