Listening to
Katy Perry
's litany of belched alphabets, fruity boyfriends, Vegas hangovers, and lesbian lip-locks on her debut,
One of the Boys
, it's easy to assume she'll do anything for attention, and a close read of her history proves that suspicion true. Prior to her transformation into a teen tart,
Perry
was a Christian singer operating under the name
Katy Hudson
-- an appellation a little bit too close to
Kate Hudson
, so she swapped last names and started working with big-name producer after big-name producer, cutting sessions with
Glen Ballard
and then
the Matrix
. That was enough to get buzz touting her as a next big thing in 2004, but not enough to actually get a record into the stores, a nicety that often proves invaluable for wannabe pop stars. Given this long line of botched starts, maybe it makes sense that the 24-year-old starlet is singing with the desperation of a fading burlesque star twice her age, yet
's shameless pandering on
is startling, particularly as it comes in the form of some ungodly hybrid of
Alanis Morissette
's caterwauling and the cold calculation of
Britney Spears
in her prime. This fusion is no accident, as
works once again with
Ballard
, the producer behind
Morissette
's breakthrough
Jagged Little Pill
, and
Max Martin
, the writer/producer of "Baby One More Time" -- and that's just for starters. She also brings aboard
Desmond Child
to give "Waking Up in Vegas" an anonymous, anthemic pulse,
Dave Stewart
to give "I'm Still Breathing" a Euro sheen, and
Butch Walker
to amp up the amplifiers, giving her a different sound for every imaginable demographic.
All the pros give
a cross-platform appeal, but there's little question that its revolting personality is all down to
, who distills every reprehensible thing about the age of The Hills reality show into one pop album. She disses her boyfriend with gay-baiting; she makes out with a girl and she's doesn't even like girls; she brags to a suitor that he can't afford her, parties till she's face-down in the porcelain, drops brands as if they were weapons, curses casually, and trades under-the-table favors. In short, she's styled herself as a
Montag
monster.
is not untalented -- she writes like an ungarbled
and has an eye for details, as when she tells her emo metrosexual boyfriend to hang himself with his H&M scarf on "Ur So Gay" -- but that only accentuates how her vile wild-child persona is artifice designed to get her the stardom she craves. Maybe if the music were as trashy as the style, she could get away with it, as it would have a junky thrill, but that's where all the high-thread-count producers actually work against
. They flatten everything out, turning the stomping
Gary Glitter
beat of "I Kissed a Girl" into a leaden stumble and burying
's voice underneath Pro Tools overdubs so it all winds up as a faceless wash of sound designed to be placed in TV shows, movie trailers, and malls -- which is of course part of the plan, as this is music designed to be everywhere after
's taboo flirtations break down doors. The problem is not with
's gender-bending, it's that her heart isn't in it; she's just using it to get her places, so she sinks to crass, craven depths that turn
into a grotesque emblem of all the wretched excesses of this decade. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine