When Kesha emerged in 2009 with “Tik Tok,” the insufferably catchy dance-pop song presented her as a Valley girl forever ready to party. Such a persona wasn’t going to sustain a music career, or any other kind of adult existence, but it remains a facet she often turns toward the spotlights on her sixth studio LP.
Having finished up a label contract with 2023’s frequently dark, challenging Gag Order, Kesha opens the inaugural release of her own imprint with “Freedom.” (the period appears at the end of every song title), evoking the gospel refrains from George Michael’s “Freedom! ‘90” and Aretha Franklin’s “Think.”
Kesha also incorporates rave airhorns, a 1990s club beat, and a comparatively quieter version of her “Tik Tok” cockiness. After appearing onstage and on record last year with, respectively, Reneé Rapp and Charli XCX—each a younger pop royal—she is obviously eager to be the queen of musical castles she and several collaborators (including “hyperpop” producer Zhone and her mother, Pebe Sebert) fit together like Legos from different eras.
On “Love Forever.,” she matures the narcotic of her 2010 hit “Your Love Is My Drug” into a more lasting high of organic feelings, robotic voice effects, and disco-throwback grooves. On “Yippie-Ki-Yay.,” she encourages neo-Nashville sentiments and hip-hop time signatures to knock boots and easily manages to be much more winsome than Colt Ford.
And, as shallow as she can be—“Boy Krazy.” races down computer-generated maglev tracks, while “Red Flag.” admits to her need for “bizarre types” and “lowlifes” while cranking up the tempo on early Avril Lavigne tunefulness—she holds onto much of the depth she sought with Gag Order.
She proves it with “Cathedral.,” a closing ballad of introversion soaring on feathers of piano notes, a brief conflagration of noise, and a blown-out, raw vocal. Kesha can still be the life of the party without being the death of her creative self.
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