Remi Wolf begins Big Ideas with “Cinderella,” a Soul Train-inspired disco-funk number about her everyday mood swings. Bursting with jazzy horns, triangle dings, and chirpy whistles, it’s the feel-good chromatic commotion we’ve come to expect from the Palo Alto artist. The opening track and lead single is saturated with her signature brainworms (“Cinderella making babies on the company’s dime”), but Wolf finds space for the first of many existential questions she poses on her second album: “Is there something wrong with the way I am designed?”

Following in the footsteps of her 2021 debut, Juno, “Cinderella” leverages danceable beats and one-liners to mask an undercurrent of vulnerability. The rest of Big Ideas scales back the gimmickry but maintains the infectious energy, mixing Wolf’s DayGlo disco pop with detours into ’60s soul, ’90s indie folk, and psych-y prog rock. “Wave” ebbs and flows between a reggae-ish groove and emo-rock eruptions. On the surface, it comes across as a moody love song, but the Flaming Lips-inspired chorus plunges into Wolf’s anxious mindset. The heart of Big Ideas comes to light in the outro, where she verbalizes her greatest fear: “If I get too fucked up, if I get drunk all night, will you still love me?” The question could be meant for a loved one, an old flame, or even herself: Nothing cuts deeper than self-disappointment.

Wolf peppers her songwriting with confessions and anecdotes, like the taste of someone she kissed at Chicago’s Empty Bottle on Halloween (“Cherries & Cream”). She’s refreshingly frank on subjects like sexuality, mental health, and sobriety. “Alone in Miami” recounts a hazy Art Basel week in Miami, cluttered with crypto bros, cocaine, and Cubano sandwiches. In “Toro,” Wolf lets her freak flag fly, spinning unflattering images like “I’m drooling like a rabid dog” into sexy come-ons. It’s no “Eating my ass like the human centipede” (from “Quiet on Set”), but it still hits.

“Motorcycle” stands out as a soulful ballad that elevates a mundane premise to the stuff of fantasy. Wolf cosplays as a modern housewife who yearns for secret escapades on her Harley. “I love my motorcycle/It gets me around this funny town,” she sings, syrupy vocals floating over slow, bluesy guitar, “Pass the chaos by in this great big world/Where no one knows what they’re talking about.” Torn between the comfort of stability and the thrill of escape, Wolf ends the song on a poignantly unresolved note.

Big Ideas plays like an eclectic compilation of scattered thoughts from her journal. Songs grapple with big questions but offer few answers: “Are you fearful? Do you regret?” she seemingly asks a paramour at one moment. Even “Toro” carries a tinge of melancholy, hinting at the imminent end of a euphoric night. But weaker moments can feel like half-baked ramblings (“The thing about the chase is it plagues the human race”) mistaken for storytelling. “Frog Rock” and “Pitiful”—which sounds like the Teletubbies’ version of “Buy You a Drank”—come off as lightweight goofs.

If Juno was a hallucinogenic wonderland that painted the self-declared “Sexy Villain” as a comic figure, Big Ideas works to humanize Wolf’s music without sacrificing its theatricality. Closing disco fever dream “Slay Bitch,” allegedly a bonus track, is the pick-me-up to counteract all the album’s nerves and insecurities. Wolf sounds like she’s commanding you to vogue through your own dress-up montage, somersaulting through the melody with the whimsical attitude of a young Cyndi Lauper. She’s a little bit scattered, and she sounds right at home.