Society Has Progressed Past The Need For Katy Perry: A Review/Rant

Graphic by Adelaide Russell

By Bennett Himmel

I take pop stars very seriously. Some of my first clear memories consist of blanket-ladden parades around the house, shouting the lyrics to my favorite Top 40 pop radio hits by artists like Rihanna, Lady Gaga, Kesha, and of course, Katy Perry. It’s hard to believe, but at one point in the not-so-distant past, one could make the argument that Katy Perry was the biggest pop star in the universe. Her 2010 sophomore album Teenage Dream was a certified smash, a cotton-candy-coated pop delicacy with winking, high-camp lyricism and spunky production to match. I still remember the summer that Teenage Dream took over the world, don’t you? The sun seemed to shine brighter. Everyone knew every word to “California Gurls,” in all its smooth-brained glory. In that moment, Katy Perry was unstoppable. How did we get to where we are now?

A few years later, Perry released Teenage Dream’s follow-up album, 2013’s PRISM, a generally enjoyable, if dull, collection of tracks. It generated two major singles, “Dark Horse,” and the song that seemed to define Perry’s career for the next decade, “Roar.” The song aimed to capture the all-encompassing positivity of her hit song “Firework,” yet instead only delivered broad and hamfisted lyricism. After “Dark Horse,” Katy Perry would never have a major hit single again. The pop landscape changed considerably in 2014, with Lorde releasing the sparse, moody “Royals” and Lana Del Rey achieving major chart success without radio play. Suddenly, bubblegummy, sweet, dopamine injection pop was on its way out. The world was getting hotter. The recession had mostly ended. People had other things to worry about. 

In 2017, Katy Perry released the album that most people consider to be the death rattle of her career, Witness. She hoped for it to be “purposeful pop,” a horrible idea for a pop star who’s defining quality was her inherent emptiness. Her music was like the cotton candy cloud decorating the cover of Teenage Dream. It was sickeningly sweet, but it dissolved upon impact. “Witness” was bogged down by boring production and mind-bogglingly horrible lyrics, such as “Your words are like Chinese water torture.” After “Witness,” her career was done. She was a legacy act. However, there remained a loud group of proponents for her return to the cheap, bubbly thrills of Teenage Dream. To grow back the long black hair, put on a stupid, neon outfit and just make fun music. Maybe that was a mistake.

“If you couldn’t love me in my ‘Witness’ and ‘Smile’ eras, you can’t love me in my KP7 era!” Katy Perry howled on stage during one of the final nights of her somewhat successful Las Vegas residency in which she inexplicably danced with a giant anthropomorphic toilet. Over the next few months, Perry would tease this album as a return to form. She had long black hair. She was making a fun, feminine pop record. She was working with Dr. Luke again. Fuck. For those not already familiar, Dr. Luke is a producer who is responsible for nearly all of Katy Perry’s hit songs, as well as a metric fuckton of hit songs from the early 2010s. Dr. Luke was also accused of sexual assault by pop star Kesha in 2014. The lawsuit is pretty damning, and Dr. Luke faded into obscurity from 2015-2020. In recent years, however, he’s had something of a comeback, producing for artists like Kim Petras, Nicki Minaj, and Doja Cat. In response to fans’ criticizations of this decision, Perry offered a babbling, rambling response on a podcast, exclaiming that she “created an entire new set of organs.” Despite all this criticism, Katy Perry’s seventh studio album 143 arrived this week and…woof.

The general public can usually put up with pop stars transgressions as long as the bangers keep coming. If literally any song on 143 approached the greatness of a song like “Teenage Dream” or “Last Friday Night,” I think this album would have had a shot at being successful, predatory producers aside. However, nearly every song on this album lands with a swift thud. The opener and lead single “Woman’s World” is a lazy, sloppy attempt at a feminist anthem that features trite lyrics such as “She’s a flower / She’s a thorn” over a lobotomized retread of Lady Gaga’s better-than-you-remember “Stupid Love.” The single “I’m His, He’s Mine” features the otherwise incredible Doechii, but there’s no excusing the desecration of Crystal Waters’ “Gypsy Woman” on the beat. I understand house music is having a moment right now in the mainstream pop field, but Katy Perry’s voice is not what it used to be (I actually think the Katy Perry of yore would have made a delightful diva house album), and the lyrics are once again inane. Katy Perry was never much of a lyricist, but it was delivered with enough wink-wink-nudge-nudge sass that it worked. In 2024, Katy Perry is dead serious. 

There’s also “Artificial,” a song with a clunky AI metaphor and production that is maybe 1% better than the rest of the album. It features the lyric that might be Katy’s worst, “I’m just a prisoner in your prison,” which is ironically how I felt while I was listening to this relatively short album. There’s just truly no highlights on this thing. The closest thing would be “Lifetimes,” which I’m sure is going platinum in H&M fitting rooms and the Love Island villa as we speak. The only thing I can give that song is that it’s just mid, rather than truly atrocious. Of course, that song can’t have a smooth landing either, because she’s being sued for environmental damage for filming the video in a sand dune without permission.

The only thing I could think while listening to 143 was…do we really still need Katy Perry? I spent the latter half of the 2010s wishing that pop music could return to its glory days of the late 2000s and early 2010s, but honestly, pop music is in pretty good hands right now. Artists like Chappell Roan, Charli XCX, and Sabrina Carpenter are making delightful, fun, campy pop music with more tact than Katy Perry ever had. There’s always going to be a place in my heart for that run of singles back in 2010, but 2010 was fourteen years ago. Maybe it’s time for Katy Perry to pass the torch. Maybe she already has.