143

A brash dose of colour for a drab post-Millennial pop scene, she was the bulldozer through the critics doors. On ‘143’ however, there’s a feeling that the world has moved on – with Chappell Roan’s tour sparking Beatlemania-esque scenes of adoration and Sabrina Carpenter maintaining a stranglehold on the charts, you struggle to see where this playful yet unsatisfying record fits into pop’s firmament.

Aside from some fleeting hellacious decisions, like the jump scare of a warbling child’s voice that opens the cloying final track “Wonder,” 143 is mostly just…there.

All that glitter gets dull after a while, and 143 is so lacking in fresh ideas and human touches that it accidentally slips into the AI Uncanny Valley; even if no AI was involved, it gives you the same queasy feeling in your stomach.

A mediocre album from a pop star past her commercial peak, “143” probably would have come and gone without much notice were its rollout not prone to so many cringe-inducing gaffes.

This is flat, formulaic and forgettable.

The album is flat, coasting on cascades of lyrical cliches and musical ideas that rarely crest.

There are a few bright spots on 143, though none of them reach Perry’s peak output. .... But despite those moments, and the album’s generally upbeat vibe, 143 feels surprisingly joyless. Coming from one of pop’s premier hitmakers, who once roared with apparent confidence and invincibility, it shouldn’t be so hard to dig up more gems.

A record that sometimes hits the target but rarely leaves a lasting impression.

The sense of fun that propelled Perry to international stardom has been replaced by a weariness (or perhaps wariness) of the industry she once dominated.