Although it adds charm and is consistently amusing in her style, Lady Gaga has a history of over-embellishing her art. Anyone who has tracked the progression of her career understands that she defines each period by a theme, leveraging — at times excessively — the importance she assigns to it. Frequently, it succeeds, as seen in the political anthem “Born This Way” or the path to recovery in “Chromatica.” However, it’s when she obstructs her own path that her vision wavers — last year’s “Harlequin,” for example, served as an impressive lesson in surrendering to impulse; “Artpop” attributed significance where there was little.
Gaga didn’t particularly create a mythology around “Mayhem,” her seventh album, or its songs prior to its launch. “I truly put in the effort [while] creating ‘Mayhem’ to avoid that and not attempt to dress up my music,” she shared with Apple Music. On “Mayhem,” she returns to her most authentic self by referencing the straightforwardness of “The Fame,” her 2008 debut that employed the façade of pop music to explore its significance. This is the dance floor Gaga we remember, liberated from the pretense that frequently obscures her discography, and throughout “Mayhem,” she appears to be enjoying herself, for the first time in quite a while.
A comeback album usually thrives on familiarity; loyal fans from the beginning will continually seek the excitement that the artist’s initial success provided. That method can be challenging, however, if it becomes too focused on the past. In the past year, Justin Timberlake and Katy Perry accomplished this, utilizing traditional themes to create unstable routes ahead.
However, Gaga manages to refresh the foundations of her initial work on “Mayhem” without it coming across as nostalgically imbalanced. There are nods to past brilliance — “Don’t Call Tonight,” for example, acts as the spiritual heir to “Alejandro” — yet it feels refreshingly current, aligned with today’s pop while not pursuing its most evident norms. This is mainly due to her adherence to the essence of what has established her as one of the most lasting superstars of this century. “Mayhem” is delightful fleeting entertainment, as sharp and straightforward as it is elegant and exact.
“Abracadabra” implied that she would deliver on the commitment to create significant yet low-risk art; “Mayhem” fulfills that promise while maintaining a modest perspective. It’s conveyed in songs that stay closest to the style she created with RedOne on “The Fame” and “The Fame Monster,” particularly on “Garden of Eden,” a catchy delight so in tune with that vibe that it might have fit perfectly on either of those albums. (Little Monsters are speculating that it’s a revamped version of “Private Audition,” a demo produced by Darkchild from that time.) “Shadow of a Man” boasts the kind of swagger that comes from wearing sunglasses after dark; the David Bowie-inspired “Vanish Into You” escalates to its chorus with a similar intensity as “Bad Romance.” In her lyrics, she frequently returns to her beginnings, stumbling in her nine-inch heels on “Eden” and exploring the negative aspects of fame on “Perfect Celebrity,” reminiscent of “Paparazzi.”
Gaga took the lead for “Mayhem,” serving as executive producer with her fiancé Michael Polansky and Andrew Watt, who previously collaborated with Miley Cyrus and has rejuvenated classic rock for Elton John, the Rolling Stones, and Paul McCartney. She collaborated on the 14 tracks with Watt, Cirkut, and Gesaffelstein — all creators who have consistently pushed the limits of their individual genres. “Mayhem” thrives due to its polished team, and its tracks are always diverse, never convoluted. It mixes elements of funk, gritty grunge, and Antonoffian synth-pop, and Gaga is open about her inspirations: “Killah” featuring Gesaffelstein bears the industrial pulse of Nine Inch Nails’ “Closer”; “Zombieboy” is drawn straight from the Chic playbook; and “How Bad Do U Want Me” is clearly shaped like Taylor Swift’s “Blank Space.”
However, it undeniably captures the essence of Gaga, in ways that only Gaga’s music can, even when it’s at its most self-indulgent. That’s why, naturally, “Mayhem” wouldn’t be a Gaga album without a few of those instances. “Die With a Smile,” her collaboration with Bruno Mars, is featured at the conclusion of “Mayhem,” the final entry in a trio of songs that indulge her penchant for theatrical ballads. (“Blade of Grass” even incorporates a theatrical shift in key.) “Smile” became her most significant success in years, a kitschy lounge song indicating that what her audience desired most was a toned-down version of herself, one who can effortlessly glide on palatable (and frankly clichéd) themes.
“Mayhem” mainly gains from competing against that kind. The album serves as a re-centering, reminding us that despite the artifice and intellectuality in her catalog, Gaga shines brightest when she distills concepts to their most appealing essence. “Mayhem” isn’t excessively complicated or elaborate; Gaga appears liberated, unburdened by the high expectations that both she and her fans have imposed on her. Achieving fame is challenging, and sustaining it is even harder — few understand this better than Gaga, who realizes that staying authentic to oneself is the optimal method to accomplish it.
