Despite her fascinating—sometimes questionable—transformations, one thing has remained consistent with the No Doubt frontwoman and sonic shapeshifter: her unparalleled ability to write the saddest songs about breakups and romantic longing. As she unveils her latest solo album, Adam White celebrates the pop patron saint of tear-stained anthems.
The Ever-Evolving Gwen Stefani
At some point, everyone wanted to dress like Gwen Stefani. As the lead singer of the pop-ska-punk band No Doubt, she embodied a holiday-themed Debbie Harry, sporting bindis, adult braces, and layered sweat on stage. When she ventured solo, she became a David LaChapelle portrait brought to life—a surreal songstress and pop queen rapping about bananas alongside giggling Japanese dancers whose presence raised eyebrows. Today, she’s a country-pop singer married to Blake Shelton, with vintage Vivienne Westwood corsets making cameo appearances in her music videos like Easter eggs nodding to her past. Her transformations are seamless, natural as slipping into a new skin. Perhaps that’s because one thing has remained constant: her unparalleled ability to channel heartbreak into music.
“Somebody Else’s,” the lead single from Stefani’s new album Bouquet—released this past Friday—marks a celebratory shift. “Leaving you saved me, oh Lord,” she sings. “Look at me bloom / You’re somebody else’s problem now.” A stark contrast after 28 years. Back in 1996, Stefani cemented her role as pop’s patron saint of tears. No Doubt’s debut hit, “Don’t Speak,” was an angry yet sorrowful ballad about losing a best friend and lover, turning the band into a late-’90s phenomenon. In the song’s video, Stefani portrayed three versions of herself: a rebellious rock star on stage, a glamorous solo artist adorned with diamonds, and a vulnerable young woman, whose only hope for recovery was confiding her heartbreak. The song topped the UK charts for three weeks and became an instant classic.
The Evolution of Her Chart Success
Stefani’s greatest chart successes—both as part of No Doubt and as a solo artist—never again came from that same emotional well. Instead, they stemmed from her most unapologetically pop and chaotic moments, like No Doubt’s messy dancehall track “Hey Baby” or her marching-band-inspired “Hollaback Girl.” Yet beneath the glossy surface lay Stefani’s turmoil, much of which she transformed into pop brilliance.
The seeds of her genius were planted early. “Just a Girl”—initially released in the UK in 1996 to little fanfare before gaining fame post-“Don’t Speak”—is remembered as a sonic eye-roll, or a sarcastic kiss-off, to male condescension. Stefani exuded defiance and combativeness, but by the video’s end, patriarchal pressure visibly cracks her. The song doesn’t build to a triumphant conclusion but instead retreats, with Stefani’s expression shifting from resolute to anxious as she belts out one final, suddenly hopeless cry: “I’ve had it up to here.” In that moment, she laid the groundwork for much of her best work—offering the illusion of escapism while giving glimpses of harsher realities.
Stefani’s finest songs are tragic love stories—tales of all-consuming romances that crumble. She crafts them as psychological dramas where heartbreak—on some level—feels akin to dying. Her teenage romance with No Doubt bassist Tony Kanal fueled 1996’s Tragic Kingdom, the album that catapulted the band into the stratosphere. Her tumultuous relationship with Bush frontman Gavin Rossdale—which began in 1995, led to marriage in 2002, three children, and ended in divorce in 2016—became the foundation for much of her remaining work.
