On “Celeb,” from her 2019 self-titled debut mixtape, Slayyyter sarcastically sings “I’ve made it onto the D-Listing.” Virtually unknown on the time, her music captured a type of edgy Y2K futurism, as if the sultry raspiness of Britney Spears and Timbaland’s knocking percussion had been fed via an industrial grinder. This sound was sufficient to propel her to area of interest web music fame, snugly becoming into the hyperpop nook, even when her music didn’t replicate any explicit camp. However “Celeb,” aside from the ironic posturing, looks like a foreshadowing of her new album, Starfucker, a pristine work of pop nostalgia that dives into the glamorous underworld of Hollywood.
Within the context of Slayyyter’s album, the phrase “starfucker” could be taken actually or metaphorically: somebody who seeks out intercourse with celebrities, or just a fame chaser. “I Love Hollywood!,” the album’s forbidding opener, explores each these views. She stumbles right into a drug-fueled journey of carnal need, raucous events and luxurious extra, separating her Hollywood self from her common self (“Don’t convey Cathy, she’s a c*** / That b**** would embarrass us”). A brash, virtually atonal housey bassline drives the tune, with greater frequencies that really feel like they’re gripping onto your pores and skin. The tune sounds as bloodcurdling as it’s off-the-wall exhilarating.
Starfucker is filled with these bizarre and complicated feelings and experiences. The remainder of the songs replicate the intro in that method — she’s not not having enjoyable, but it surely exists alongside bouts of heartache. “Rhinestone Coronary heart” channels Ava Max’s wounded nu-disco as Slayyyter grieves over somebody that used her and broke her coronary heart, whereas “My Physique” begs somebody to bop to alleviate her loneliness via howling excessive notes over dizzying electro. Then there’s “Dramatic,” which by some means makes infidelity sound alluring (it isn’t!); flashes of weeping synths dance round her voice as she yearns for a person, capturing the divide between the flashy aesthetics of Hollywood life and her puzzling realities.
The aesthetics do make for some fairly incredible music, although; Starfucker is pop at its finest, a concoction of disparate influences working in sync to supply groovy earworms. Slayyyter takes notes from French contact, EBM, Eurodance and even the Drive soundtrack. It looks like a pure development from 2021’s Troubled Paradise, which launched extra easy takes on pop alongside her grittier sound. However Troubled Paradise, for its few fulfilling moments, felt clunky and void of any actual identification. Starfucker, then again, is polished and teeming with ardour, giving Slayyyter all of the markings of a pop diva. Take “Miss Belladonna,” the second single; though it’s sitting at a bit over two million Spotify streams, the tune looks like a pop second. Replete with throbbing basslines and dazzling, technicolor synths, it’s straight out of the ’80s, detailing the titular Belladonna as a femme fatale. Slayyyter’s vocals are incredible, effortlessly shifting between breezy falsettos, her signature raspiness and thunderous, operatic excessive notes. It’s elegant and assured, the music of a budding star.
Starfucker’s inspiration is extremely classic, each sonically and visually. The visuals for this album are impressed by outdated Hollywood; in a Rolling Stone profile, Slayyyter mentions being “entranced” by ’80s thrillers like “Physique Double,” which additionally serves because the direct inspiration for the “Erotic Digital” single cowl. These classic aesthetics are additionally mirrored within the sound, but it surely often falls inside tiring revival tendencies, fueled by nostalgia; “Recollections of You,” arguably the weakest tune, is a bouncy Euro home tune weakened by a dated trance synth line in its refrain. However for its temporary dullness, Starfucker stays a shiny exploration of the inside workings of celeb. The joys and horror of dropping your self via fame is underpinned by an unsubtle layer of irony: “I really like Hollywood!”
Day by day Arts Author Thejas Varma could be reached at thejasv@umich.edu.
