Kesha Sebert has described her sixth album . (referred to hereafter as Period) as “the first album I’ve made where I felt truly free”. It comes accompanied by a lengthy world tour, advertised by a photo in which the singer expresses her freedom – in what you have to say is a very Kesha-like manner – by riding a jetski while topless. Long-term observers of her turbulent career may note that this doesn’t seem so different from the way she framed her third album, 2017’s Rainbow, which she described at the time as “truly saving my life”, and featured her on the cover naked and was accompanied by a tour called Fuck the World.
But it would be remiss to deny her the ability to make a similar point again. Rainbow was released at the height of her legal battle with her former producer “Dr” Luke Gottwald. Kesha had accused him of sexual assault and other allegations, which he denied, resulting in a series of lawsuits and countersuits. Although alternative producers were found to work on Rainbow, she was still legally obliged to release the album – and its two successors – on Gottwald’s Kemosabe label. The two reached a settlement in 2023, her contract with Kemosabe expired shortly afterwards, and Period is now released on her own label.
While Rainbow and its immediate follow-ups regularly mined the legal disputes and resulting trauma for lyrical inspiration – a dramatic shift from the screw-you hedonism that powered her big hits in the early 2010s – Period signals a fresh start by, more or less, bringing back the Kesha who boasted about brushing her teeth with Jack Daniel’s and took to the stage accompanied by dancers dressed as giant penises. Only the piano ballad closer Cathedral seems entirely rooted in recent events – “Life was so lethal … I died in the hell so I could start living again”. Elsewhere, the occasional hint of something dark in the author’s past (“I earned the right to be like this”) is drowned out by the sound of Kesha reverting to type in no uncertain terms: “take me to the sex shop”, “bartender pour me up some damn fluid”, “I like chaos, dripping head to toe”, “gimme gimme gimme all the boys”.
And who can blame her? No one wants to be defined by trauma, and she’s doubtless keen to assert that the original Kesha persona was more to do with her than the svengali-like producer who discovered her.
Furthermore, it’s a weirdly timely return. In 2010, Kesha’s hot mess persona made her an outlier, albeit an outlier whose debut single TiK ToK sold 14m digital copies worldwide. The critic Simon Reynolds smartly noted that if the era’s predominant female star Lady Gaga saw her work as high-concept art-pop in a lineage that included David Bowie and Roxy Music, Kesha was more like their glam-era rival Alice Cooper. Fifteen years on, we live in a pop world at least partly defined by Charli xcx’s last album. Perpetually half-cut and lusty, open about her messy failings (“I like the bizarre type, the lowlife … God, I love a hopeless bastard,” she sings of her taste in men on Red Flag), Kesha could make a fair claim to be a godmother of Brat. Certainly, you couldn’t accuse her of jumping on a latter-day trend, just as Period’s diversion into vogue-ish country-pop, Yippee-Ki-Yay, seems less craven than it might. Kesha has done past work in that area – from her 2013 Pitbull collaboration Timber to her duet with Dolly Parton on Rainbow.
Yippee-Ki-Yay’s country-facing sound sits among a buffet of current pop styles: there’s synthy, 80s-leaning pop-rock you could imagine Taylor Swift singing on Delusional and Too Hard, and mid-tempo disco on Love Forever, while the spectre of hyperpop haunts the warp-speed Boy Crazy and Hudson Mohawke turns up glitchy Auto-Tune-heavy electro on Glow. It’s an album clearly intended to re-establish Kesha at the heart of pop, which means there’s no room for the appealing weirdness of her 2023 single Eat the Acid, and it’s only on the closing Cathedral that her voice really shifts into the full-throttle roar she unleashed covering T Rex’s Children of the Revolution at 2022’s Taylor Hawkins tribute concert.
That said, the songs are all really strong, filled with smart little twists and drops, and funny, self-referential lines: “You’re on TikTok / I’m the fucking OG.” You get the sense of the massed ranks of collaborators – including everyone from regular Father John Misty foil Jonathan Wilson to Madison Love, who counts Blackpink and Addison Rae among her songwriting clients – really getting behind her to make Period a success. Kesha, meanwhile, plays the part of Kesha 1.0 to perfection: for all the lurid lyrical excesses, it never feels as if she’s trying too hard. And why would it: she’s returning to a role she originated.
This week Alexis listened to
Lathe of Heaven – Aurora
Cognitive dissonance: Lathe of Heaven look weirdly like a new wave of British heavy metal band, but Aurora’s sound is equal parts smeary shoegazing and epic early 80s synth-pop. Great song regardless.
