Claud had already amassed a rabid fanbase when, in 2020, they hit the jackpot, becoming the first artist to sign to Phoebe Bridgers' Saddest Factory Records. Their subsequent album Super Monster cemented their place as an important voice in Gen Z’s queer-pop canon. “My story isn't shown in coming-of-age movies about straight cis couples,” the nonbinary singer told Apple Music in 2021. “I wrote this record to be very visible.” Here, on their heart-on-sleeve follow-up, they zero in on relationships—platonic and romantic, successful and otherwise—and the myriad ways they consume you, especially in your twenties. But even though Claud, now 24, feels all the feelings—delirious adoration (“Crumbs”), bitter heartache (“The Moving On”), the nagging pangs of knowing they’re repeating the same mistakes (“Every Fucking Time”)—Supermodels is more than just a tour of the wreckage. Tucked into each entry are hints of resistance—a refusal to let those mistakes define them—that give each song, even the weepy ones, cathartic forward momentum. On “Screwdriver,” they wrestle with a disappointing affair, but mostly resent how it’s changed the way they see themselves. “You caught me looking at photographs of supermodels/Trying not to cry when I look back at myself,” they sing. “Can’t draw the line so I put vodka in my orange juice/And I'm thinking about moving out of New York.” Claud is a skillful songwriter, and it's within these sorts of brutal confessions that listeners can't help but see themselves. Their gift is in making that reflection feel beautiful, hopeful, and important, like reassurance from a wiser friend that it’s all part of growing up.