Scarlet

Doja Cat has always been a troll. This is her first record that truly reflects that.

For those who haven’t followed, Doja has recently been engulfed in a swarm of controversy above her usual levels. She’s lost a million followers on Instagram and legions of her fan base after a series of tweets about their relationship. What started as replying to a fan asking her to say she loved them eventually led to her accusing her fans (especially those most devoted) of needing to get a life off the internet (a bit of an ironic statement coming from one of the most online stars in music).

Some fans have taken this as her being ungrateful and rude, and some as her simply messing around on the internet. I was of the second variety, considering her history. Doja came up through a meme and has spent the last 5 years regularly stirring up intentional controversy. You can tell she grew up on the internet in a way that is only starting to be seen on this scale as Gen Z becomes adults. She’s a classic online troll–it’s hard to trust anything she says. That’s why, through the chaotic album rollout and all the recent controversy, I had a feeling it was mostly a big joke. I even made myself a “Scarlet Bingo,” featuring such boxes as “every song is actually silence” and “Demons [the third and most divisive single] is actually an entirely different song.” If the album went in the other direction, I was also prepared, with “it actually redeems her reputation” and “it gets above an 8/named Best New Music [by] Pitchfork.” The one thing I wasn’t expecting is what I found when I finally got to hit play on the record: exactly what it seemed like.

Scarlet is the project of an internet troll who’s been given a mic. Most of the songs have no clear purpose or subject and each one is fueled whether subconsciously or explicitly by a hatred for everyone around her, or at least everyone on the internet. The first half of the record is full of childish insults (Pitchfork highlighted the line “you look like a butter face, butter body, butter toes”) and at most serious, brash flipping-offs of everyone she interacts with online. For all her talk on each song of not needing her haters, she sure seems to think about them a lot. She mostly tries to get back at them with the usual route of bragging about her wealth and success and how she doesn’t need them, but it comes off as emptier than usual when they’re the subject of the entire album.

There are a few exceptions to this as things calm down in the second half. The pivotal track is Agora Hills, a bedroom-Soundcloud-rap-pop song and one of few that feels musically unique from her previous work. It initially comes across as a sweet love song about wanting to show off your partner, but even on this song you can hear undertones of the same thing that has driven the rest of the record. As you listen, you realize that all Doja’s actually done is add her lover to the list of things she’s trying to show up her haters with. The following track, Can’t Wait, is more subtle but far more genuine, as she self-describedly gushes about her partner with, for the only moment on the record, no real energy given to their critics.

From there on, the songs are more positive. But by the end of the first verse, Doja always manages to remind you that the people she’s talking to are the haters no matter how much it seems otherwise. Take Love Life, a song that (despite my bingo box entitled “Love Life is in an ironic way”) at first seems like a grateful reminiscing on the good parts of her fame and relationships. That is until she says “y’all never had friends like this,” and suddenly we’re reminded that she was never talking to the people who support her. All of the love for life she’s willing to share is only to rub it in the face of her ex-fans.

Musically, it’s fine. Doja Cat has never been untalented, and she brings out more of her rap skills on this record than she ever has before. The beats are generally good, although often dragged down by the lyrics. This record features only one song with her frequent collaborator Y2K (the lead single Attention) and none from Dr. Luke, marking a shift in who she’s working with. The most frequent production credit appearances are from Kurtis McKenzie, Earl on the Beat, and Jay Versace, all but one of whom are new to working with her. She talked a lot of talk about a major genre change before the album’s release, which was a statement immediately voided by the first single. Although there are few moments of newer influences, none of the songs (at least musically) would be out of place on 2019’s Hot Pink or 2021’s Planet Her, beyond maybe being one of the more forgettable tracks on either album.

It would be impossible to leave this review without mentioning her most recent antics. A few days ago, Doja Cat came under fire for posting (and later deleting and reuploading a cropped version with many eye-roll emojis in the description) a picture of her wearing a shirt featuring comedian and neo-Nazi supporter Sam Hyde. For many, myself included, this feels like the final straw, but I’m sure more will show up anyway. It’s hard to tell whether what she does is her exposing her genuine beliefs or if it’s simply some sort of persona meant to get attention and turn away her fans. But at this point, it feels like the answer to that doesn’t really matter–she’s going too far either way.

In the past, Doja’s been saved through controversy after controversy by her undeniable talent. But when she stops catering her performances and music to the fans who may have not kept up with her antics on the internet, what happens? Can we keep around a celebrity who is interested in pissing people off above all else, even at the cost of her music? It will be interesting to watch the development of the new Doja Cat. In the meantime, I’ll be moving on. Scarlet can sit gathering dust on the back of the record shelf for all I care.