The Unglamorous Sadness of Katy Perry
From the biggest name on the planet to B-list. What happened to Katy Perry?
A decade ago Katy Perry had been one of the biggest names in the business. For eight long years the Californian singer had been churning hit after hit; her name a staple on music charts.
And then it all stopped. Since the late 10s, Perry has been nothing more than a blip on the radar, making news for her private life shenanigans rather than her music.
What was the reason behind Perry’s demise? And how it could be prevented?
Katy Perry was an overnight success. She reached №1 with her very first single “I Kissed A Girl” and stayed there for seven constructive weeks. Within a few singles, she became a dominant presence in the music industry; her first major-label album, One of the Boys went platinum. And One of the Boys was only a prelude to what was yet to come. Her next album 2010’s Teenage Dream not only evaded the common sophomore slump but eclipsed her previous effort. Teenage Dream became only the second album in history to produce five number-one singles. Prism released two years later was another commercial success, with both “Roar” and “Dark Horse” reaching №1 on Billboard Hot 100.
And then Witness happened. The 2017’s release marked the first time Perry’s album couldn’t produce a №1 single. It was also the first one without platinum certification — a far cry from her prime.
Unsurprisingly, the fall from grace from one of the decade’s leading artists has been the topic of many think-pieces and snarky comments.
A remarkable number of them chalked the singer’s underperformance to her new haircut: the platinum blonde pixie cut. The new short hair, a far cry from her famous dark locks, was said to negatively impact her sex symbol status. As strange as this reasoning may sound it wasn’t entirely off base. Katy Perry’s haircut was a big deal. She spoke about this on Ellen and had beauty magazines like Vanity Fair and Allure run a feature. Finally, it was huge for the star herself. Perry, who suffered from mental health issues, explained it was an attempt to strip away her celebrity persona and return to her own true self.
But even if we agree that cutting her hair made Katy Perry less attractive, putting the blame solely on her hair paints Perry as nothing more than a sex symbol — an opinion I cannot co-sign.
It’s a disservice to the singer and her carefully crafted image. I previously wrote how difficult it is to sell sex — Katy Perry and her team did it just right. That’s because other than her debut single, the male fantasy that was “I Kissed A Girl ‘’, Perry was never just sexy. Her image wasn’t that of a sultry seductress, but of a fun girl-next-door, who just happens to be the prettiest person in the room. The very second single, “Hot N Cold ‘’ had her chase after a groom in tear-streaked makeup, while wielding a baseball bat. Whereas it was shooting whipped cream from a sequined bra or showing off a million dollar grill in Ancient Egypt-inspired “Dark Horse” — the cartoonish image followed her through the best part of her career.
Perry cemented her place on the stage as an embodiment of a pin-up girl, with all the cheeky attitude and the campiness. It was sexiness with a wink; tame enough for the conservative moms and their children.
But there was another side to Katy Perry. A big part of her popularity was built on uplifting anthems: “Firework”, “Part Of Me” or “Roar”. It’s not a coincidence her 2016’s single “Rise” was chosen to promote the Rio Olympics. As much as her penmanship received criticism (Do you ever feel like a plastic bag?), Perry’s music resonated with a large group of people, which helped her to rise above other pop stars of the era.
The problem is during the four years when she was gone, the world changed dramatically. The global economy fell into yet another slump, right-wing politicians took over the cabinet seats and a soap opera called Brexit happened. For the young generation, pop music’s main target group, it has been a rough couple of years.
The technological side of the music industry also went through a shake-up, as streaming services became the main music providers. With music more accessible than ever, listening habits changed: a large part of casual listeners started using songs as background noise.
All of this impacted the music landscape, which got progressively moodier as the years went by — to put it simply there was a whole lot of mumbling and whispering going on. Dance music might have not disappeared, but it had new people at helm — DJs, who’ve had enough of staying in shadows. Suddenly their names took over the artists section; the vocals were relegated to features. Singers had to scramble to get a part on tracks produced by the likes of The Chainsmokers, Zedd, Diplo or Calvin Harris. The producers became bigger names than the singers.
It was a tough time for a pop genre as a whole. For Katy Perry, it was even worse. Not only her image wasn’t right for the new era, but self-love themed songs were out of fashion as well.
She was an antithesis of what was trending at the time. I imagine she and her team had a very difficult choice to make. Perry could either stick with an old image and risk getting replaced by trendier acts or try something new and potentially alienate her fanbase.
Perry and her team did neither; instead, they chose option c.
The idea was simple: take Perry’s cartoonish image and use it to portray real issues — a dark comedy kind of situation. Gone were silly things like sharks and cat statues — in 2017 the singer was joined on the Brit Awards stage by two giant skeletons, representing Theresa May and Donald Trump.
The changes weren’t contained to the stage, the whole promotion rollout was something different. In a heartfelt interview, Katy Perry admitted to suffering from depression and struggling with reconciling her private life with an on-stage persona. She held a 96 (!) hours long live stream documenting her life, had science-ish discussions with Neil Degrasse Tyson and performed at Hilary Clinton’s fundraiser.
Perry’s growing interest in social issues was made clear on the Witness’ first single. Max Martin-produced “Chained to the Rhythm”, was a song about the apathy that touched society; its music video even used Hunger Games-inspired imagery. Musically, the mid-tempo, dance-hall-inspired number was a departure from Perry’s previous leading single, “Roar” — a powerpop uplifting track with an explosive chorus. The new direction brought mixed reactions, with some praising the catchiness of the chorus, while others criticized it for lack of memorability.
The single debuted at №4, which shows the public was (at least initially) interested in Perry’s musical output, but it soon dropped off the charts.
Many expressed distaste for the track due to its supposed “political nature” — I didn’t mind it, I just thought the lyrics didn’t make any sense. While Perry crooned — So comfortable, we’re livin’ in a bubble, a bubble / So comfortable, we cannot see the trouble, the trouble — all I could think of was how untrue the lyrics were. I remember 2016. The post-election mood wasn’t one of optimism; half of the country was in mourning. Nobody on the Democratic side pretended things were going to be alright.
The song felt like the equivalent of going on Twitter and asking “Hey, does anyone else dislike Trump?”.
Now, I don’t think lyrics were necessarily the reason behind the song’s underperformance. The real problem was that Perry and her team vastly overstated how much people care about lyrics in popular music. The songs like Foster The People’s “Pumped Up Kicks’’, Kendrick Lamar’s “Swimming Pools” or the classic “Hey Ya” by Outkast have shown people (including me) will dance and sing-a-long to anything as long as it’s catchy.
The second single “Bon Appetit” shared the same problem. Perry advertised the song as a female empowerment anthem but the publications and fans alike saw it as a departure from the “SJW thing” and return to mindless bops. To be fair to Katy, she did try to convey the message — the corresponding music video had her cooked in a pot and kneaded like a pizza dough by a bunch of men. I can see how it was meant to criticize patriarchy and the male gaze in particular.
But without watching the music video, or by treating it as a love song we’re left with a lacklustre effort. The song’s sexual metaphors stick like a sore thumb next to atmospheric love songs of that era, like Selena Gomez’s “Good For You” or ZAYN’s “Pillowtalk”.
Despite the feature from Migos, who were at their highest commercial peak, “Bon Appetit” bombed on the charts, marking the first time Katy Perry didn’t make it to Top 50 on Billboard Chart.
Another problem was Perry not selling the “woke” image particularly well. For all her political engagement, she was surprisingly flippant about Obama leaving the office and keen to work with Migos even after they were exposed for their homophobic remarks. Plus, mocking Britney Spears’ mental breakdown just a month before talking about her own mental issues wasn’t a good look.
Music also left a lot to desire. The combination of sad and happy wasn’t thought-provoking; it wasn’t just unexciting. If anything, both songs gave me an uncanny feeling of a Youtube singer attempting to do an acoustic cover of “Toxic”, to give it more depth, and in result stripping the song of all its joy.
The second half of the 10s showed sadness can sell very well, but it has to be relatable (Billie Eilish, Lorde) or romanticized (Lana Del Rey). Katy Perry’s issues with stardom weren’t something average Joe cared about.
At some point in time, it’s clear Perry’s team realized their image reinvention had bombed and the album wasn’t making any noise. They needed to bring the public’s attention. And so came the third and the last single — 90s house-inspired “Swish Swish”. The song was an attempt to go viral — something Perry had excelled at in the past. The team behind the music video threw everything at the wall, making an obnoxiously stupid clip featuring a bloated starring list.
It seems that Perry’s label, Capitol Records lost the trust in her hit-making abilities. Instead of trying to create something new they relied on already established Internet phenomena: employing Brazilian meme legend Gretchen for the lyrics video and inviting the backpack kid for an SNL performance. The end result gave strong “How do you do, fellow kids?” vibes.
“Swish Swish” was the last American single off Witness.
With all that said one question remains: What was the remedy?
I believe there wasn’t one. As much as I can nitpick at the imperfections plaguing this roll-out I don’t think there was a way to salvage this. In 2017 there was no place for Katy Perry — old or new persona. Over the years we’ve seen pop stars struggle with trend transition: Christina Aguilera did, Cher did, and even Madonna turned to movies in the 90s. Hell, even Perry’s biggest rival, Lady Gaga went through a slump.
Reinventions are hard.
I strongly believe that even if Katy Perry came out with an excellent electro-pop record she would have a difficult time in that era. Her loud persona and abrasive humour would get her in trouble in no time. If you don’t believe me just look at how quickly the public turned against Jennifer Lawrence.
It doesn’t mean it’s all over for Perry. In the post-corona world, her bubbliness might just be what the public needs. Her Smile singles: brilliant “Never Really Over”, disco-infused “Smile” (which is begging for a TikTok trend) or “Harleys in Hawaii” (which did go TikTok viral) proves she still has an ear for hits. And with the Y2K aesthetic on the rise, there’s no better time than now.
