In the past, Doja Cat has had a complicated relationship with what kind of artist she is and what type of music she should make. Almost a year to date after releasing her first No. 1 hit “Say So,” she tweeted that she was “tired” of it. Just a few months before she released her last album “Scarlet,” a fiery rebuttal to her more polished pop, she referred to her breakthrough record “Hot Pink” and its successor “Planet Her” as “cash grabs” and “mediocre pop,” taunting her fans by saying they “fell for it.”
Related Stories
On “Vie,” her fifth album, she appears to have found some sort of creative equilibrium. This past weekend, she told CBS Sunday Morning that she’s “a rapper that makes pop music,” a tidy summation that gives her musical guardrails with pivot room. As such, “Vie” is an evolution of Doja’s strong suits as both a songwriter and performer at liberty to toy with the vestiges of pop’s past, making for a record that reframes the conventions of 1980s pop without losing herself in the process.
Popular on Variety
Doja has a clear appreciation for ’80s touchstones — her Marc Jacobs pinstripe bodysuit and plume of hair on the Met Gala carpet introduced this era in proper fashion — and she infuses them into “Vie” like she’s ransacking a vintage store. The album both begins and ends with bleating saxophones as if they’re openly flogging the notion of pastiche. And yet, Doja continuously taps the well while adapting it to her own aesthetic, moving fluidly between sweet harmonies and nimble raps in classic Doja form.
“Jealous Type,” the album’s lead single, was an appropriate table-setter for “Vie.” Produced by the ever-chameleonic Jack Antonoff and Y2K, the funk-popped tune was instantly flagged as a Song of Summer contender by the Internet, who complained that it would have been the victor had it not been released so late in the season. The same could be said for much of “Vie,” which tips its hat to everyone from Prince and Janet Jackson to Pebbles and Lisa Lisa & Cult Jam. Across the album’s 15 tracks, Doja coasts across Day-Glo synths and cavernous drum sounds, stacking vocals for electric choruses and lyrics so snappy that it makes you wonder why she ever disavowed a retro-leaning song like “Say So” in the first place.
Antonoff is a key ingredient for “Vie,” producing on nine of the tracks, and it’s no surprise that they’re the ones that adhere most to an ’80s sound. Antonoff is a studio technician in the purest sense, and every instrument is period specific, from the scrunchy underwater synths that lead into “Take Me Dancing” featuring SZA (the set’s only guest) to the 1982 “Knight Rider” theme song that’s flipped for the propulsive “AAAHH MEN!” Of course, references abound; it’s hard not to draw comparisons to Jody Watley’s “Looking for a New Love” on “Dancing” or Jackson’s “Control,” which feels like a general blueprint for “Vie.” The album only loses its momentum when Antonoff steps back, namely on the sultry “Make It Up” where she caters to her man with a caveat: “Did you hear about it? I’m a submissive top.”
Much of “Vie” is concerned with relationship dynamics, whether it’s enticing a man on the dance floor on the plucky “Cards” or wondering if she’s been cuffed yet on the dreamlike “Acts of Service” (“I just deleted Raya, that must mean that I’m your provider”). On album standout “Stranger,” she’s doe-eyed, flitting between alluring come-ons and frank admissions: “Girls can’t tell that he fine off rip / ‘Cause he don’t look like he like dick / But if he liked it I’d still like him / As a freak I can admit that and he likes it.”
“Vie” could easily cause whiplash as Doja cuts rap verses into pop songs, yet it doesn’t feel like patchwork. Doja is a gifted singer and rapper, two skills that few have mastered at this level, and she marries her worlds with full command. By the time she reaches the album’s concluding track “Come Back,” there’s no question that she’s rightfully earned her spot at the top of the pop-rap hierarchy, striking a delicate balance that requires scope and precision.
There’s a lot of that on “Vie,” a record that reinforces that Doja doesn’t need to fit into one box to become the artist she’s meant to be. It’s a notion that she herself seems to have come to terms with, however trying (or public) it may have been, and “Vie” is all the better for it.
