Scarlet (2023), a review

Doja Cat goes splat.

Doja Cat’s latest and most controversial release begins with a croon from Diane Warwick, encouraging the listener to “walk on by”. I’m not saying that’s a warning, but it seems especially damning as the album debuts with numbers equivalent to the second week of ‘Planet Her’ (2021). Quite bad numbers for a pop star who felt ascendant even just 18 months ago, and has just had a number one single on the Billboard Hot 100. That is not, however, an indication of quality. For that, you’d have to look at the singles…which I’ve written about previously.

To summarise, ‘Scarlet’ (2023) is a sonic reset from a pop artist who wants to be taken more seriously in the hip hop space. Whether you believe Doja Cat deserves the moniker of rapper or not, she clearly sees herself this way. And after a rocky few years of playing to and against an increasingly volatile fanbase, along with backlash against her latest relationship, we are at a statement of intent. An album that mostly lacks pop hooks, fails to make itself distinct from previous outings, and mostly just circles the drain.  

There are two camps of Doja Cat enthusiasts online: those who think she’s a mad genius, and those who think she’s very talented, but has limits. I’m personally the latter, and this project exemplifies why. Doja Cat, as a persona, is distinct from whoever Amala Dlamini is behind the scenes. This is a character in pop that has been defined by a lightness that makes the pop songs pop, and the rap sounds bounce. She has been able to explore depth and seriousness before, but rarely for more than a few tracks.

The beats are often great, and individually, the tracks almost work. You could easily throw some of these tracks onto a workout playlist and be happy enough with them. But an album is not a playlist, it’s a track list. A statement of intent. Good records indicate a theme, great albums explore one, and the worst hammer it into the ground. Doja Cat’s repetitive and often insecure bragging sits in the last category.

The first song on the album that you haven’t heard yet is ‘Wet Vagina’, a braggadocious track that takes a shot at the Met Gala and…not much else of note. You get a chorus that feels like it owes a lot to the silliness of Lil Nas X (and early Doja Cat), but in a way that feels forced. It isn’t fun, it’s oddly harsh. The vague, defensive bragging from ‘Paint The Town Red’ is back in force with this one. And most of the rest of the album. Which is where the problem comes in.

‘Fuck The Girls (FTG)’ feels like the clearest statement of intent. In a rap landscape that has felt, outside of notable exceptions, defined by a level of female solidarity, she very pointedly defines herself as not a girl’s girl – at least towards her fans. It’s arguably the best song on the album, if for no other reason than it has a clear target. A broad one, but at least she’s looking directly at something. It works because, for once, she’s focused for a while 2 minutes and 31 seconds. But the trouble is, it just isn’t enjoyable to listen to. You will not hear this bitterness on the radio.

‘Agora Hills’ is the opposite, thematically at odds with the rest of the tracks, sonically pleasant and maybe her only chance for a second hit. That is a love song (for her alleged pedophile boyfriend) where she hilariously claims “boys be made that I don’t fuck incels”. But in isolation, it’s a fine track. A solid continuation of her best instincts in writing romance. The fact that she only dips into this bag of tricks once is a crime. For all her ambition, this is the song that indicates what ‘Scarlet’ could have been, had she just been at least a little confident in her ability to make a hip-hop record.  

There is very little actual fun to be had here, at least compared to her previous work. She’s always produced music that had a smirk to it, but ‘Scarlet’ sneers. ‘Ouchies’, something that appears to be (in part) a Remy Ma response track, uses a Minaj-esque vocal affection – without Minaj’s genuine manic energy. ‘Demons’ does the horror-rap, rock inspired thing in a way that wavers between Rico Nasty at her best and worst by being very loud and shallow. ‘97’ goes for something akin to the hip hop of the late 1990s, but in that, lacks bite. Have you noticed a theme?

So much of the album doesn’t sound like Doja Cat.

You don’t really get to know who Doja Cat is through this album, except in her influences. Listen through and you’ll hear Lil Wayne, Rico Nasty, Nicki Minaj, the Beastie Boys, JPEGMAFIA and countless others, but very little of Doja Cat. I shouldn’t walk away from a first listen only thinking of better songs that are doing the same thing you’re presenting to me. The listener is getting a series of impressions and masks, the likes of which she rarely has had to lean into before. As a pop artist, this is a woman who rises above her influences. As a rapper? She’s often just replicating styles and attitudes that don’t feel authentic.

You especially get a lot of Eminem on this album. ‘Attention’ is the most obvious point of reference, but so much of this record is just as anxious and mean as early Slim Shady, without his fire. He was able to name names, clearly articulate what about the industry upset him, and still keep the hooks sticky. She’s angry, but it’s flaccid. Some artists have the ability to sell a persona built around paranoia and rage.

The ‘Say So’ lady is not one of them.

And none of this touches upon the horror aesthetics she’s paired the album with, which suggest a darkness that she just does not have the ability to communicate. Throwing terms like “demons” and “666” around to give yourself a satanic vibe doesn’t work when the music isn’t doing anything particularly evocative. If Scarlet is an alter ego, she isn’t a demon, she’s a girl who mods on reddit. Covering yourself in blood only works when we can’t tell its food colouring and corn syrup.

‘Scarlet’ might seem fun on the outset. It’s an album with a lot of talent thrown behind it. But the end result isn’t brimming with personality like ‘Hot Pink’, or skilfully built to hide the underlying hollowness, like ‘Planet Her’. If there is a record in Doja Cat’s discography this recalls, it’s the EP ‘Purr’. A series of songs made in absolute seriousness, that hold ambition towards a sound and style that this woman simply isn’t suited for in her current state.

Like I said early on, it’s well produced. That isn’t enough. Particularly when you zoom out and take into context who Doja Cat is in 2023. You’re not working with a pop artist making a record that’s just vaguely bad. It isn’t just disappointing. This is a woman who actively ties herself to white supremacists and regularly passes the point of bad taste, into just plain nastiness.

This isn’t going to kill her career. We don’t do that anymore. In an era where record labels struggle to find genuine superstars, an artist with this proven of a track record will get plenty of chances to right the ship. She’ll let the era play out, go on tour, and have every opportunity to have more hits. But the ascendency feels like it’s over. An empire fell when the album dropped.