Katy Perry's new album title, “143,” is code for “I love you,” based on the number of letters in each word of the phrase. She may love us, but the album is more like 144 — “I made mush.”
Perry's first LP since 2020’s lackluster “Smile” is just as lackluster, an 11-track blur of thick electronic programming and simplistic lyrics. There's none of her past cheeky humor, virtually no personality. Even the title is filler.
The rollout has been snakebit from the jump, with the artist under fire for collaborating with music producer Dr. Luke and the video for “Woman’s World” emerging as a sloppy, puzzling attempt at satire. Then her video shoot on a Spanish beach for “Lifetimes” was investigated for potential environmental damage.
It doesn’t help that the first three singles are just OK. “Woman’s World” is a frothy Lady Gaga-esque arena pop anthem, the techno-stomper “Lifetimes” smacks of Calvin Harris from the 2010s and “I’m His, He’s Mine,” featuring Doechii, lazily lifts Crystal Waters’ “Gypsy Woman (She’s Homeless)” from 1991. It’s a trio of tunes that doesn’t scream 578 (“Katy's totally relevant”).
“Gimme Gimme,” featuring 21 Savage, just lacks bite, a nursery rhyme from a new mother masquerading as a pop song (with crib-adjacent lyrics like “Say the right thing, maybe you can be/Crawling on me, like a centipede”).
“Crush” isn’t bad, but it’s built on the repetitive, unyielding synths you’d find in Eastern European discos in the ’90s. That’s a complaint for all the Dr. Luke tracks, really — Perry may rue their reunion simply based on the ugly, unsophisticated production. “All the Love” has the phrase “back to me” repeated 23 times during its 3:15 length.
“My intuition’s telling me things ain’t right,” she sings on “Truth,” a lyric that may sum up her album and a song that includes a fake voicemail at the end. Other artists are incorporating real dialogue and recorded snippets of their lives. Perry is faking it.
She has always preferred gangs of songwriters, but “143” pushes it to an insane level, with “Nirvana” credited to an even dozen. Listen to it and see if 12 songwriters were necessary for a song that sounds like a warmed-over club track from La Bouche.
If the best song on “143” is “Lifetimes,” the worst is easily the closer, a sticky-sweet, wide-eyed plea for innocence in “Wonder,” sticking out like a sore thumb. This is a cynical attempt to have moms in the audience wave their hands in unison as balloons float up, even as it decries cynicism.
“One day when we're older/Will we still look up in wonder?” she sings, name-checking her daughter, Daisy, who also makes a cute appearance. But by this point, she's lost our trust, with the 10 previous songs a sonic slog. “143” has no soul or emotion; it's just a number.
