The track arrives wrapped in the comforting embrace of 2000s nostalgia—those distorted guitars that made Avril Lavigne a household name, the kind of danceable melancholy that defined a generation raised on MTV2. Yet Tratnyek isn't merely mining the past for easy hits. There's a sophistication to her songcraft that suggests she understands precisely why those sounds worked then and why they might work now, in our current age of performative authenticity.

The lyrical content is where "Loser Like Me" truly distinguishes itself. Lines like "no one calls me pretty except men over 50" and "I don't know where I should put my hands when we're kissing" possess the kind of unflinching specificity that makes one wince in recognition. It's the sort of brutal honesty that could easily tip into self-pity, but Tratnyek navigates these treacherous waters with what the press notes describe as "tongue-in-cheek confidence"—a quality that separates the genuinely vulnerable from the merely maudlin.

What's particularly striking is Tratnyek's decision to handle virtually every aspect of the production herself, from songwriting to cover art, with only mixing and mastering duties shared with Richard Carey. This level of creative control in someone so young suggests an artist who knows exactly what she wants to say and how she wants to say it. The result is a track that feels cohesive and intentional rather than cobbled together by committee.

The comparisons to Olivia Rodrigo are inevitable—both artists traffic in the currency of teenage angst wrapped in radio-friendly packages. But where Rodrigo's pain often feels operatic and all-consuming, Tratnyek's approach is more conversational, more lived-in. She's not screaming about her feelings; she's laughing at them, which somehow makes them more affecting.

"Loser Like Me" arrives at a curious cultural moment when authenticity has become another form of performance, when being "real" is often just another brand. Yet Tratnyek seems genuinely unconcerned with such calculations. Her song doesn't feel like a bid for relatability; it feels like someone actually being relatable, which is a rarer commodity than one might think.

The production, while polished, retains enough rough edges to feel human. Those "dance-able distorted guitars" mentioned in the press materials suggest a sound that doesn't shy away from its influences but doesn't slavishly imitate them either. It's pop-rock for people who remember when pop-rock didn't need to apologise for being catchy.

But as mission statements go, "Loser Like Me" is remarkably effective. It announces the arrival of an artist who understands that sometimes the most radical thing you can do is admit you don't have it all figured out. In a musical landscape crowded with manufactured rebellion and curated imperfection, that feels like a genuinely punk rock sentiment.

"Loser Like Me" is available June 27th on all streaming platforms.