The other Katy Perrys

She’s surprisingly replaceable.

This is not a review of ‘143’ (2024).

If I were to write a full-blown review of Katy Perry’s seventh record, it would probably sketch out the cultural landscape of pop music in 2024, touch on Dr Luke as a mythologised figure, then outline why his current limpid approach to production fails to capture the highs of previous eras. It could have included a random kick at Max Martin for returning to Luke for a collaboration on a knock off of ‘Unholy’, which is pathetic in many ways.

Maybe I would have discussed pop’s dwindling number of competent songwriters, and how the lack of Bonnie McKee and Benny Blanco suggest that the significance of Luke’s production have been massively overstated. It may have even led to some golden “Poptimism is dead” wrap ups. They’re very popular at the moment.

I didn’t write that in full for a number of reasons. It feels reductive to punch down at the record, which is already an embarrassing stain on so many people’s records. Perry isn’t the only person who felt comfortable working with alleged rapist Dr Luke, and it does feel somewhat unfair to punish her for a crime most ignored in other projects.

But mostly? The album is boring as shit, and I only have so many minutes in this world to waste. I gave her one listen. My life is worth more than a record of rejected Kim Petras songs and whatever beats Doja Cat rejected.

Which brings me to my actual point of interest, which is the people who have taken over the space Perry left in her wake. With this new record definitively closing the book on the Katy Perry story, the public have clearly already filled the hole she’s left behind. And to give credit for her, it took two starlets to make up space.

First up, Sabrina Carpenter, the easy sell.

Carpenter has spent her recent career (correctly) compared to Taylor Swift and Ariana Grande. I even pulled those comparisons out for my ‘Short n’ Sweet’ (2024) review. But in the back of my mind, I’ve been considering another inspiration behind her recent persona.

Think about it for a second. The pin-up aesthetics and bright, California-esque sonic landscapes. The bright and goofy stage persona that is arguably more invested in being fun than it is being impressive. The humour and snark glazed in a coy femininity. This is prime Perry in a tiny, blonde package.

Take ‘Taste’ for example, which tackles the 2000’s pop-punk vibe almost the same way the first Perry album does. The meanness of the lyrics is glossed over with a big smile – both figurative and literal. In many ways, it reminds me of ‘Hot n’ Cold’, which is just as snarling beneath the surface. That juxtaposition is often funny for obvious reasons, and both women play on it very well.

Or you could look at the balladry and see certain similarities. ‘because I liked a boy’ leans into the dramatics of a song like ‘Unconditionally’, while ‘Dumb & Poetic’ might not have the rock-adjacent edge of ‘Circle the Drain’, it does have the same sense of distaste for the subject. They two have an ability to tear down a man.

If I had to point to a key difference between the two – outside of aesthetics – it would be Carpenter’s love of the artificial. Her recent music often feels like play-acting, but more than that, there’s a theatrical element that is at odds with the theatre of Perry, the Queen of Commitment to bad or cringy ideas. Her cynicism is personal, Carpenter’s is part of the package. Carpenter descends from the rafters onto the moon and playfully makes out with an alien. She winks at the audience. Perry simply is the alien queen.

Which brings us to Chappell Roan.

If Carpenter is the goofy and often snarky side of Perry, Roan feels like she has fully subsumed the theatrical, melodramatic, and often too sincere side of Perry’s output. Regularly and rightfully compared to Lady Gaga, I do think Roan’s aesthetic and playful energy read more Perry than Gaga – particularly when removed from her visuals.

‘Good Luck, Babe’ is arguably the first ballad in a decade that pulls from the same vein of confessional singer-songwriter bangers that Perry was emulating with ‘Thinking of You’. A little less Lilith Fair leaning and a little more Madonna (specifically 1980s Madonna), but the end result is a power ballad with a human touch. In an era where most sad songs rely on production and poetry to get across the emotion, it feels distinct that both these women can holler their way through a bridge.

Perry has often been called a bad singer, and I don’t think she’s great, but there are very few modern singers who can match her vulnerable wailing. It isn’t clean, nor consistent, but it read incredibly well when compared to her contemporaries. Roan’s voice is cleaner, and her sense of pitch is nowhere near as troubled, but that same depth of emotion sits behind their singing.

Sincerity is what links the two of them. Again, while the Gaga comparison makes sense, Roan’s loyalty to her aesthetic vision and world-building feels way more in line with peak-Perry. Gaga tends to run between her influences without thought, but Perry’s comparative singularity (with the exception of ET, which remains a mystery to me) feels way more intentional.

That sincerity also leads to their less desirable traits. For example, Roan’s somewhat awful ‘Femininomenon’ is basically her version of ‘Woman’s World’. Perry and Roan also share a habit of melodrama that overreaches from their comfort zone. Both would benefit from an iota of early Gaga’s pretension, rather than matching her ambition.

But ultimately, Roan lacks Perry’s tendency to sneer through her music, which leads us back to Carpenter. It’s as if the two halves of Perry have emerged, refined by time, and the public has their new pop princesses to enjoy. Hopefully this isn’t cursing these two women to Perry’s fate, but I have faith that their differences will lead to new outcomes.

Or at least that they’re currently taking notes on how not to establish yourself as a viable pop star in your middle age. Because the answer has never been to shamelessly pander to a parody of gay men, while making boring music. It literally never works.

And no, Madonna doesn’t count.