At one point during the neon, candy-coated video for single “California Gurls,” Katy Perry is shooting icing straight at the audience while wearing a rehearsed, cheeky grin. Welcome to Teenage Dream. This is the perfect visual metaphor for her entire new release: an automated provocateur recklessly spraying too much sugar on her listeners.
The opening, eponymous track immediately signals hazy misadventures. Thumping beats and poppy-sweet synths are sprinkled throughout the album, lending an undeniably summery feel.
Perry’s libido fuels much of the content in Dream. There’s the completely non-genius innuendo track, “Peacock,” and the anthem to blackout evenings, “Last Friday Night (T.G.I.F.).” It is easy to say that none of the tracks aim for demure.
The biggest problem with the album is that it doesn’t work as a whole. Perry went a little wild with the bin candy, and now everything is too jumbled and synthetically sweet.
Her few attempts at serious material are the album’s more successful tracks. “Circle the Drain” deals with a significant other who has a drug addiction, and its poppy punk lyrics and pounding beats work well. The album ends with the emotionally resonant “Not Like the Movies,” a slow demi-ballad about unmet relationship expectations.
Most of the songs are genuinely enjoyable, just not memorable. They push the boundaries of decency and appeal to massive audiences, but no more. It’s like waking up from a dream, but as soon as you try to remember what happened, it just slips away.
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