Toronto singer GRAE has the kind of voice that could instantly fog up a window, exhibiting the sort of calm composure and breathy sighs that make even her boldest declarations feel as soothing as a whisper. But she uses that voice less as a seductive affectation than as a necessary balm for all the aching lyrics she sings on her full-length debut, Whiplash. GRAE is, of course, no stranger to tales of love and longing—her breakthrough 2020 single, “2725,” was a poignant bedroom-pop portrait of a long-distance romance playing out over FaceTime. But on Whiplash, the tension between GRAE’s breezy songcraft and heartbroken sentiments is heightened to discomfiting extremes: “Grenade” likens a precarious relationship to the namesake explosive, with a restless drumbeat cutting through its dream-pop tranquility; “No Lovey Dovey” feels like a beach-cruise celebration for a doomed union whose principals have decided “we’re better off friends.” However, not every story on Whiplash leads to an unhappy ending: Atop the ’80s New Wave propulsion of “Spinning,” GRAE commemorates a love pact sealed over Elton John records and matching tattoos.