Content warning: this piece contains brief mentions of sexual abuse.
The first playthrough of Katy Perry’s new album 143 (2024) is, in short, confusing. Wait, this is the same Katy Perry that put out “Last Friday Night (TGIF)?” “California Gurls?” “Teenage Dream?” Yes, that one. The second time around it doesn’t get much better. By the third playthrough, if you’ve made it that far, 143 begins to feels like a cold sweat; feverish and droning all at once, Perry’s eleven-track album has pushed her to the pop culture graveyard alongside YouTube’s Dramageddon and Slapgate at the 2022 Oscars, instead of rekindling her 2010s glory days.
143’s unfortunate pop culture debut was doomed by its lead single, “WOMAN’S WORLD,” which was released in July to scathing negative reviews. Pitchfork’s Shaad D’Souza said it was “too dispiriting to even approach camp,” while Laura Snapes from the Guardian called it “a song that made me feel stupider every sorry time I listened to it.”
Indeed, the single is an awful throwback to an era where oversimplified feminist ideas were passable as productive discourse. In the song’s disjointed music video, Perry feigns satire in her portrayal of whiskey, boobs, tiny jean shorts, and sex toys, claiming that “it’s very slapstick and very on the nose…we’re like, ‘we’re not about the male gaze’, but we really are about the male gaze.” Presumably, the intention is to be satirical about the way that men oversexualize women. But she only exaggerates one manifestation of femininity in this process, implying that the way that women look is inherently connected if men will choose to objectify them. She effectively says, men mistreat women who look like this, and that’s wrong.
There’s no doubt that women who dress and look the way that Perry does in her music video are oversexualized; they are dehumanized into objects of male gratification. But women will be dehumanized whether or not they adhere to traditional femininity. The oppressive framework of the male gaze abuses women regardless of how they present themselves. Plus, what about the women who choose to appeal to male desire? Does wanting men to want you make you less of a feminist? Perry’s reductive music video thus promotes a singular definition of femininity and of feminism, one that enables the perpetration of misogyny in a less visible, but deeply profound way.
As if this tacky, inauthentic display of “girlboss shit!” wasn’t enough, she simultaneously seems to claim that women’s empowerment stems from discovering their ability to be strong and sexy. This is no doubt an impactful aspect of feminist work when done right, as is the case with rugby star Ilona Maher. But Maher simply means to inspire; she doesn’t suggest that a “WOMAN’S WORLD” can be built simply by being proud of one’s multifacetedness. Jumping straight from 0 to 100, it feels like Perry willfully ignores the intricacies and deep-rooted, systematic problems that lie at the heart of women’s oppression.
Somewhere between the music video’s emphasis on beauty and destruction, it becomes evident that Perry is attempting to rebrand herself in the same vein as Charli xcx, Sabrina Carpenter, and Chappell Roan—huge artists who have embodied the reclamation of sexuality and joviality in the female gaze. Tearing their identities away from a male-oriented perspective, these women are dominating the pop industry. But Perry’s feeble attempt at constructing a similar trademark aesthetic comes up short when all she does is piggyback off tired clichés. It seems as if she’s trying to hop on a trend that she doesn’t quite understand.
Adding fuel to the fire is Dr. Luke’s involvement on the record. The producer rose to infamy after singer Kesha sued him in 2014 over allegations of sexual, physical, and verbal abuse. Perry recently addressed the controversy on an episode of the Call Her Daddy podcast, saying that she was working with people that she has “collaborated with from the past, from the ‘Teenage Dream’ era” on this project. Perry chose to ignore the evident irony of working with Dr. Luke on “WOMAN’S WORLD,” which is a decision made with horrifying hypocrisy and blatant disregard for survivors of sexual assault. It’s a fact that puts a grimy filter over the entire rose-colored ideal of it all; once you know it, you can’t unknow it.
The song’s only saving grace is that it’s catchy. It’s really, really catchy. Amped up by danceable beats, the synthy melodies are sure to get stuck in your head. It’s not the best song ever written, but it’s not bad if you can look past just how performative and insubstantial it is—but that’s a big if.
As the lead single and first track of 143, “WOMAN’S WORLD” sets the tone for the other ten songs. Most of the other tracks are a bit kitschy on their own, but following suit after “WOMAN’S WORLD,” they all come off similarly artificial. None of the songs are particularly strong or impactful; they just take after the vague, general vibe of everything else.
Half of “GIMME GIMME” is Perry singing repeatedly: “Gimme, gimme, baby, stop wastin’ my time / Kitty, kitty, wanna come party tonight / Trippy, trippy, daddy, take me on a ride / If you want my body, stop wastin’ my time.” “GORGEOUS” is a kind of “fuck it, we ball” anthem as Kim Petras half-sings-half-raps, “Pretty girlies get whatever we want, you know we take advantage / Hands on the couch, fuck up the club, ain’t paying for the damage.” After the disaster that is “WOMAN’S WORLD,” instead of just being bold, outrageous party songs, these songs also come off as cheap retellings of female liberation.
Aside from the tracks that try to espouse this skewed, performative feminism, the album continues to be lackluster. The songs are repetitive and don’t really say anything about, well, anything. This lack of substance isn’t necessarily what makes 143 a rough album, though. Not all art needs to have some deep meaning, nor does art need to have justification to exist. Some music can exist simply for fun. The problem with 143 is that it has none of the above. Each song loops a strong beat over a boosted bass, accompanied by shallow metaphors that repeat into oblivion. “CRUSH” seems AI-generated in how tired it sounds, both musically and lyrically. “LIFETIMES” feels like a filler song meant to increase the length of the album. Both “ARTIFICIAL” and “TRUTH” are so bland that it’s hard to remember what they sounded like, even after three listens.
“ALL THE LOVE” is no better than these hyper-energized tracks, although it attempts to be more tenderhearted and emotional. With less generic EDM influences, it’s closer in sound to some of Perry’s older hits, like “Unconditionally.” Unlike her older music, the instrumentation doesn’t let Perry’s voice shine. All of the vocals on 143 are heavily autotuned, which can be an innovative way to create new sounds and add some texture into the music. But in this album, all it does is mask Perry’s rich belt, erasing the imperfections that come with the vulnerability of more raw recordings. It’s a shame because Perry’s vocal ability was never in question—lost in the overproduction, her talent goes to waste.
Another song that sits slightly higher above the others is “NIRVANA,” which stands as a somewhat solid EDM track. Rather than mimicking the sounds of current house or techno, the song sounds vaguely outdated, like watered down Calvin Harris hits from the 2010s.
The same “watered down” quality permeates through the ultimate track, “WONDER.” On it, Perry sings her hope that her daughter will hold onto her childlike wonder even as she grows up, reflecting on her own life in tandem. She even begins and ends the song with her daughter Daisy singing, “One day, when we’re older / Will we still look up in wonder?” What could have been a sweet moment that reflects on Perry’s femininity in motherhood—especially alongside her daughter’s voice making it onto the song—is immediately ruined by placing the same autotune on her daughter as she did to herself throughout the record. Effectively, her daughter’s voice is strangled into a robotic, pitch-corrected melody. But the choice does it have its symbolic implications. What does it mean to artificially alter the voice of your child in a song meant to represent childhood freedom?
And perhaps that’s what the entire album feels like—an attempt to be human, whether it be through talking about love, womanhood, or childlike wonder, that simply lacks all authenticity. “I’m very proud of everything I accomplished, and I don’t feel like I have anything to prove,” Perry told Audacy studios. In that case, maybe the album wasn’t meant to dazzle; maybe it wasn’t meant to be a hit. Perhaps Perry just wanted to fulfill her own artistic desires. But in terms of proving herself, she’s right in not expecting much—143 just proves Perry’s reign as a pop star is over.
