.png)
ALBUM REVIEW: Taylor Acorn - Poster Child
- Rebecca McDevitt
- 11 minutes ago
- 2 min read
Contributed by Rebecca McDevitt
Taylor Acorn isn’t new to the scene, but she’s definitely started redefining it. With her latest album Poster Child, she surpasses the expectations she’s built. The record feels like flipping through pages of her diary, every lyric blurring the line between strength and softness, heartbreak and healing.
“Poster Child” delivers everything you’d expect from Taylor — upbeat, infectious melodies — but it’s the vulnerability underneath that hits hardest.
The title track sets the tone: energetic, catchy, and deeply self-aware. Instead of heartbreak, Taylor turns inward; exploring the complexities of self-worth and the process of finding peace with who you are.
Nostalgia, Reimagined
“Home Videos” instantly stands out. It’s intimate, reflective, and achingly relatable. When she sings, “There’s not one thing I would change, if I could go back for a day,” it’s like hearing someone finally make peace with their past. In a genre that often leans into angst, Taylor’s decision to celebrate her history, even the complicated parts, feels refreshing.
She captures the ache of missing home without drowning in it, giving voice to the quiet kind of homesickness that lingers long after you’ve grown up.
Anthem Energy with a Personal Edge
The album’s first single, “Goodbye, Good Riddance,” brings back the electric pop-punk energy we love her for. It’s a danceable, cathartic track made for both your bedroom mirror and a summer festival crowd. The production mirrors that post-breakup chaos, both steady and logical one moment, wild and emotional the next, like the sound of moving on before you’ve fully let go.
Why Poster Child Matters
Taylor Acorn has always known how to turn personal moments into shared ones, but Poster Child feels like her boldest statement yet. It’s proof that pop rock is alive, well, and evolving, and that Taylor is helping lead the charge.
From festival stages to late-night drives, this record feels like a companion, one that grows with you every time you hit replay.