Perry’s Smile is a message sent from her slightly outdated pop world, but at its best, it can indeed make you smile and make you dance despite your most cynical inclinations.
Smile is leaps and bounds ahead of Witness and even the splendidly boring Prism, which in itself is a miracle.
Smile still feels like the too-familiar work of a star committed to remaining pleasantly, fundamentally unchanged.
Katy Perry has grown up, but in doing so, she’s abandoning some of the best things about “Katy Perry.”
For all its good intentions, Witness felt tired. But on Smile, Perry sounds rejuvenated. It’s a relief to hear her double down on what she does best: fizzy bops, huge hooks and about as much emotional subtlety as a sledgehammer.
There’s still a bit too much self-help book redemption here ... But in the darker corners of this record, there’s a definite sense of a more mature and grown up pop star emerging.
On Smile, she stops trying to keep up with the Halseys and happily defaults to the fizzy bombast that is her stadium-size safety zone.
Pop music is escapism, which in this day and age is beyond needed, but Smile feels like it’s just kind of there.
Creatively, it is definitely a return to form for the pop superstar. Unfortunately, there is a staggering lack of growth present in this album, surprising considering most of the foundation for Smile’s marketing was focused on Perry’s career rebirth, coinciding with the star’s impending motherhood.
Think of Smile as Katy Perry doing the work to (eventually) get her groove back: she's recharging. Smile plays like a necessary centering exercise, indulging her insecurities and less surefire instincts.
She's not ready to yield the spotlight yet there's a distinct sensation that she's following fashions on Smile, not setting them.
Katy Perry’s bubbly, cliché-ridden pop feels especially unsuited for life in a pandemic. But despite all her garbled platitudes, she remains a master at executing chart-topping formulas.
The album falls around a narrative of self-growth and perseverance, particularly after the failure of Witness, but going back to Prism’s concoction of flavorless production and lyrical cliches doesn’t help anyone.
Smile is utterly committed to bombastic aphorisms and the soaring positivity — and anonymity — of a megachurch.
In July on Instagram Perry promised an album about her "journey towards the light". These are lofty ambitions for a star who cut her teeth on absurdist pop jaunts, and sadly the result is milquetoast, at best.
Everything pretty much goes downhill after Smile's opening track.
Taken as a standalone piece of art, 'Smile' truly isn’t worthy of your time. It’s a “Live, Laugh, Love” cushion, it’s a faux-inspirational quote over a stock image of a sunset, it makes “Do you ever feel like a plastic bag?” seem like a deep philosophical rumination on the transient nature of existence.
#14 | / | Idolator |