Melanie Martinez - K-12 (LP) - Violet Vinyl

Melanie Martinez’s second album is the rare pop project that actually feels lived in. K-12 arrived on 6 September 2019 through Atlantic, and it didn’t just come with a concept, it came with a full-blown world. Martinez wrote and directed the companion feature film herself, screened it in cinemas for one night on 5 September, then put the whole thing on YouTube the day the record dropped. That kind of confidence sets the tone. You’re not just dropping the needle on a collection of tracks, you’re stepping into a pastel school with rules, villains and a heroine who has more agency than her porcelain voice might suggest.

The songs play out in sequence like chapters, and that’s part of the fun. Wheels On The Bus opens with sly, sing-song menace, the bus rumbling under a melody that sounds almost innocent until the lyrics bite. Class Fight and The Principal sketch the pecking order, but it’s the detail that sells it. Martinez has a knack for turning nursery-rhyme cadences into dispatches from a hostile schoolyard. Show & Tell is a standout, her vocal caught between breathy coos and frustration as she frames the grind of public scrutiny through puppet strings and camera flashes. It’s theatrical, but it never tips into hollow cosplay.

Orange Juice might be the album’s most tender cut. She doesn’t sensationalise the subject of eating disorders, she speaks to it with compassion and clarity, the chorus turning a common kitchen image into something that sticks. Strawberry Shortcake pushes just as hard, taking aim at how easily people blame girls for the ways they’re looked at. Then you hit Teacher’s Pet, which creeps along like a late-night confession, and it lands with a thud. There’s a grim story there, and she refuses to sand it down.

Musically, K-12 keeps the toybox textures that made Cry Baby memorable, but the palette is bigger. You get rubbery bass and trap-leaning drums, music box keys and woozy synths, bright choral stacks and the occasional string flourish. Martinez co-wrote and co-produced the set, and you can hear her control in the way songs pivot from sugary hooks to something a bit darker. Detention slinks with heat-haze percussion. High School Sweethearts blooms into a chant that feels communal, then cuts back to something intimate. Recess closes the album like a deep breath after the bell.

The numbers backed up the ambition. K-12 debuted at number 3 on the US Billboard 200, which is no small feat for a concept album tied so tightly to a single creative vision. Critics were split on just how arch the theatrics were, but most agreed the project’s scope was impressive, and fans embraced the film and record as two halves of the same story. It helps that Martinez doesn’t just play at satire. When she sings about body image, consent, or power dynamics, she writes from a place that feels painfully familiar to anyone who ever felt small at school.

If you’re the sort who judges records by how they play on a turntable, this one earns its spot. The K-12 vinyl pressing suits the music, the low end is warm, the highs are clear, and those layered vocals feel close enough to touch. The artwork looks ace in a 12-inch sleeve, which matters when you’re building a shelf of Melanie Martinez albums on vinyl that actually tell a visual story. I’ve seen copies move fast at my local Melbourne record store, and it makes sense. This is a record people want to live with, not just stream and forget.

Hunting around online, you’ll find plenty of options if you want Melanie Martinez vinyl without leaving the couch. The usual suspects let you buy Melanie Martinez records online with a couple of clicks, and there are often coloured variants floating about if you like your shelves to pop. For folks in vinyl records Australia circles, it’s worth checking local shops first, especially if you prefer to eyeball the jacket and corners before you take it home.

K-12 works because it marries craft to concept. The songwriting holds up even if you never watch the film, but the film deepens the songs if you do. That balance is harder than it looks, and Martinez makes it feel effortless. If Cry Baby built the character, K-12 gives her a campus and a cause. File it under pop with a spine, and if you see K-12 vinyl in the wild, don’t leave it behind.