I love pop music. I love it because it's a genre that is, at its core, meant to bring together the most loved qualities of its neighboring genres and smushing them together into one beautiful, perfect alien. The interesting thing about pop music, however, is that if its neighboring genres don't evolve, then it won't either. Pop music as a life force depends entirely on its adjacent genres because without them there is no reference point; no qualities to smash, and no alien to make.
One can argue that pop music has hit that point in the last couple of years, and while many adjacent genres have weaved in and out of mainstream relevance the contents of those genres have remained relatively static. There has been very little revolution (or even evolution) in rock, R&B and country; only small refinements along the way. Electronic music, interestingly, is probably the only major genre that's been shapeshifting its own identity, but its more experimental evolutions haven't affected the pop scene quite as much as it should.
In other words, pop music has reached a point now where everyone has sort of rested on formula and structure. That's not necessarily a bad thing (and in many cases is actually quite necessary since it enforces a sort of one-upmanship that leads to better quality songs), but when material starts resting on similar qualities across the board, we begin to rely so much more on the musician behind the microphone to take that formula and make it feel new again.
I would like to say this very true statement: Katy Perry and her team of writers and producers have discovered, unequivocally, how to make perfect pop songs. In the game of one-upmanship Katy Perry and her team have that formula down PAT. They've discovered how to merge the right chords with the right hook, how to weave the right vocals in and out at the right times and how to pace the song so that it's tense at its high points and vulnerable at its low points.
So by the criteria above, Prism is a perfect pop album.
And therein lies the problem with Prism. It has no dimension. It's an album that spent all nighters studying pop music and how to perfect it, but in doing so it forgot why pop music is what it is. The lesson I learned with Prism is that when you let pop music be comfortable in its own universe, it loses itself a bit. This album is filled with so many by-the-numbers pop tunes I ended up wondering what the point of it all was.
Katy Perry seems to be saying everything and nothing in Prism. She seemed more comfortable letting those great hooks do their work than realizing that, as the ship's captain, you need to steer those hooks with your commanding presence. If you don't, you as the headline gets lost in the contents of your work and you end up just not mattering. Katy Perry might as well have not shown up.
And that's honestly always been my problem with Katy Perry. I can't help feeling with these songs that she and her team wanted to make an album that can be so easily consumed and digested by the buying public that they didn't bother focusing on an artistic motive or any long-lasting reverence. These perfectly glistened songs are like supermodels you see at the bar; they attract you on the most shallow and least challenging level, but once you get closer you realize that they're actually quite hollow inside.
I end up trying to stop myself from investing much of my energy as a listener into these songs because I find them hollow. Something about Katy's delivery is so strangely predictable and un-nuanced that even her most vulnerable material to date (Unconditionally, Love Me, Grace of God
barring Thinking Of You of course) comes off as cookie cutter. Even during her slightly edgier moments like Dark Horse, I find myself guessing the next chord, vocal riff or melodic transition before it happens because Katy as the ship captain doesn't inspire much confidence otherwise. She has charisma, but doesn't have edge, uniqueness, or even any IMPACT on her own songs.
There are many songs that excel even when Katy tries to hold them back, like the 90s dance-inspired Walking On Air, which is very formula but still wonderful if only because it's a perfect emulation of a style I just genuinely miss. And I suppose that's another point to make here, which is that Katy's presence is so unimpactful on Prism that the very obvious reference points she uses in her songs become all the more obvious. You can hear some Cyndi Lauper, C+C Music Factory, Technotronic, Mariah Carey, Kylie Minogue and even Robyn sprinkled through Katy's vocal delivery and production choices
and she seems unable to take those influences and channel them into something completely her own. Even worse, it reminds us that the references she tries to emulate are still better than her own emulations, which makes most of these thinly veiled throwbacks that much harder to listen to. Birthday sounds like a song that has already existed a few hundred times, and Katy's version probably wouldn't rank on any "all-time" list of 70s-disco-throwback songs.
Prism may have big tits and perfect skin, but when it opens its mouth to speak you realize that there isn't much else there. It's pop music for the sake of being pop music, and when there's no purpose here other than to glisten and be perfect, you're probably not going to make the impact you want to make. Prism will sell well because it's designed to sell well, and that is probably the closest thing to any "influence" the album might have on Katy's contemporaries now or in the future.
C
Favorite tracks: Walking On Air, Legendary Lovers