As a frequent Pitchfork contributor, I don’t get involved in Pitchfork review discourse, but I had to when I read Shaad D’Souza’s disappointing review. D’Souza is a talented writer, but his review lacks the empathy of his exemplary Ethel Cain profile and instead blasts the album purely on aesthetic grounds. Much like the Tweets dunking on every promo shot, it feels more like dispassionate executive feedback than a good-faith take, critiquing a marketing campaign instead of an album. That’s not inherently bad — the impersonation gimmick may serve a purpose, but it is a gimmick funded by Columbia Records and that’s worth noting too. But there’s a fundamental lack of respect surrounding this album. It’s not far off from the lack of respect shown to Chappell Roan or, indeed, Ethel Cain. Hayden Anhedonia, the woman behind Ethel, made a wonderful Tumblr post about earnestness as an autistic trans woman, and how nobody takes her seriously either. In Anhedonia’s words, “everything now is ‘cringe’, or "doing too much’, or "not that serious’. Actually, it is that serious.”
To her point, the worst thing you can do with what’s left of modern pop criticism is try hard and miss. Pitchfork gave Sabrina Carpenter a glowing review because it’s intentionally frothy and fun. But that’s why stans defend her — it’s a fight against misperception by people who’ve felt equally misperceived, no matter how misguided and frankly awful that fight gets. It’s especially difficult to be heard now. We’re in a backlash to the moody therapy-pop of the late-2010s and early-2020s, and a backlash to sincerity unless it comes in lo-res arial font on a green background. If we’re giving grace to pop stars, why not give Halsey the same benefit of the doubt we give Sabrina Carpenter? Just because they’re a little intense? That’s exactly what makes me like them; the total lack of irony when they draw from different inspirations, the lack of pretense in their lyrics even when the concepts behind their albums fall short. For Halsey, there’s zero difference between Bjork and Blink-182, Kate Bush and Evanescence, just more things to draw from. The pastiches are earnest tributes, no self-conscious memes to hide behind, and that’s largely why the album’s surprisingly divisive.
Maybe it’s because I’m trans, and few groups are as willfully misunderstood, but a lot of my writing involves fighting for earnest, misunderstood artists. That gets me some shit from editors when I give some British folkie no one’s ever heard of a 7.2, but I wear it proudly. It’s not just me: Kristen S. He (also trans!) proudly gave Great Impersonator 5 Stars over at NME, and she is the type of person who praises the infamous tinny snare on Metallica’s reviled St. Anger. But sticking up for that snare is contrarianism with purpose; in those ugly overtones, you can hear the hell the band went through to make the record. That doesn’t make St. Anger any good to my ears, but doesn’t make it worth dismissing either.