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The arduous summer rollout ofKaty Perrys seventh studio album was a rare gaffe-only product launch.
The lyrical simplicity on display felt better suited for daytime pharmaceutical ads.
The music videos absurdist gestures soconfusedits feminist intent that Perry later claimed it was satire.
Two years sinceRenaissanceand ten since Taylor Swifts bubbly, electronic juggernaut1989 neat, unobstructive synth-pop feels perfunctory.
Everybodys doing it because everybodys doing it.
It takes a village to craft and tackily market a misguided sorta return to form slash capitalist copycat bonanza.
This is music that aims for the club but … its the rewards club.
143doesnt seem anxious to get its hands dirty, with Perry farming out its raunchier lines to other voices.
/ Can you touch me in a simulation?).
Even with threeSlutpopalums present Luke, Ryan OG, and Rocco Did It Again!
143is sonically and thematically conflict-averse; it makesWhale Cocksound visionary.
Production sticks to well-trod musical pathways, while the album avoids digging too deeply into uncomfortable subject matter.
Its fitting for a banner season in pop-star evasiveness.
It floats the posi-vibes everyone serves to Zane Lowe.
It explores the same tempos and genres as everyone fromBillie EilishtoLil Yachty.
It shows the same deference to collaborators with concerning pasts astoo many artistsin 2024.
(People have overlooked combinations of these faults;143stacks an entire deck with them.)
Do we really want to relive that crash?
Correction: An earlier version of this story misstated the month Perry released her album Smile.
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