Katy Perry's 143: A failed firecracker
Katy Perry delivered 143, her seventh album, to a public primed for a disaster. The stench of failure started to spread the moment she released "Woman's World" back in July. A dance-pop hall of mirrors, "Woman's World" deliberately evokes 21st-century revivals of vintage neo-disco, sounding slightly like a response to "Born This Way," Lady Gaga's retort to Madonna's "Express Yourself." Where Gaga's 2011 smash is steeped in post-modernist playfulness, "Woman's World" is devoid of any self-awareness, confusing forced gaiety for empowerment.
Perry's inability to indulge in introspection is evident in Perry's choice of collaborator for not only "Woman's World" but the rest of 143: Dr. Luke, the producer behind the majority of her biggest hits. The last time the pair collaborated on a hit single was on "Dark Horse," which reached number one in 2014, the same year Kesha leveled a civil suit against Dr. Luke accusing him of sexual assault and emotional abuse, among other transgressions. (Kesha and Dr. Luke reached a settlement in June 2023). Perry severed professional ties with the producer beginning with Witness, the 2017 sequel to her 2013 hit Prism. A mangled attempt to capitalize on the success of how "Dark Horse" co-opted trap, Witness was heavy on club rhythms and light on pop melody, a combination that left audiences cold: after its lead single "Chained to the Rhythm" rode into the Billboard Top Ten on career momentum, the album failed to generate another Top 40 hit.
Witness sent Katy Perry into the cryogenic chamber of American Idol, where she served as a judge from 2018 through 2024, a period where she essentially was absent from the pop charts. Little wonder she raced back to Dr. Luke; he's her proven hitmaker and it had been a full decade since she'd been at the top of the charts. It's safe to assume a hunger for hits, along with the cultural relevance they bestow, is the sole reason Perry revived her partnership with the producer but it's odd she didn't consider optics. Dr. Luke may have settled the Kesha lawsuit and he may even have had great recent success with Doja Cat but he's still considered a pariah by a large portion of the pop audience—a portion that contains a considerable number of Katy Perry fans.
143 suggests that the notion that she could alienate listeners and critics by reteaming with Dr. Luke never crossed Perry's mind. He produces all but one of the album's eleven songs, dressing the throwback dance-pop with digital accents, finding spots for guest stars that attempt to give the album a veer of modernity, all to no avail. 21 Savage seems as if he was rousted out of bed to punctuate the nagging sing-song hook of "Gimme Gimme." JID rallies for rapid-fire verses yet still manages to fade into the background of "Artificial." Kim Petras—another one of a handful of pop stars who've had hits with Dr. Luke in recent years—wades into the trap murk of "Gorgeous;" while Doechii gets the unfortunate task of attempting to refurbish the overly-familiar sample from Crystal Waters's "Gypsy Woman" on "I'm His, He's Mine"
"I'm His, He's Mine" is one of a handful of odes to domestic bliss littered throughout 143, which may be appropriate for an album named after old-school texting lingo for "I love you." "Lifetimes" and "All the Love" are celebrations of lasting, enduring love given insistent, glittery arrangements when they yearn to be ballads. A similar trick is performed on "Wonder"—the lone track produced by Stargate—whose mawkishness can't be disguised underneath a Eurodisc throb, not when Perry enlists her four-year-old daughter to sing the chorus as the song reaches a close.
Songs about long-term romance and motherhood may reflect the reality of a singer swiftly approaching her fortieth birthday but their intent is buried underneath an amorphous digital sheen, one that superficially is for the dance floor but seems suited for solitary streaming listening. A paucity of melodic and rhythmic hooks means the surface glassiness becomes the record's defining characteristic, turning it into a unified and monotonous listen. Ultimately, that's why 143 seems worse than Witness, an album whose lows were fathomless. There are no lows here, just endless, stultifying lulls.