You remember Teenage Dream, right? No, not the singular pitch-perfect exercise in sleek, radio-friendly pop-rock that topped charts worldwide. Nor am I even referring to the album of the same name. Katy Perry’s sophomore effort can only be discussed in terms of its campaign, a seemingly interminable but ultimately enjoyable stretch of twenty-six months, encompassing five Billboard number ones, a sell-out tour and the not entirely vomit-inducing documentary “Katy Perry: Part of Me”. The album itself may have been textbook example of cynical hit-chasing, but one thing the era couldn’t be accused of was a lack of conviction from Perry herself. Whether shooting cream from her breasts, attempting laughably high notes or trying to out-Gaga Gaga when even the Lady herself knew her ‘wacky’ style was becoming passé, she did it all with a knowing wink and a cheesy grin.
That this steely façade should show signs of degeneration on Perry’s third effort is one of the record’s most pleasant surprises. Make no mistake – PRISM is a purpose-built set, designed to keep Perry on top of the charts while simultaneously laying down the infrastructure to bring her back to her roots as a quasi-credible singer/songwriter. The album houses a plethora of hits, most of which breeze by with unexpectedly nuanced production from pop mob bosses Dr. Luke and Max Martin. There are inevitably a few ‘emergency button’ singles should things turn sour – “This Is How We Do” bumbles along like a Ke$ha track on valium, while “International Smile”, with its skittish guitar riff and fizzy synths, could’ve been ripped straight from Teenage Dream – but Perry’s strained, passionless delivery gives you hope that she’s over this brand of cookie-cutter pop.