Doja Cat has killed pop music. All bets are off now. Bad enough that her music is homogenised disco and R n B with neither R nor B, but her alleged homophobia, stripping for white supremacists and incels on a chatroom and general obnoxious behaviour is an insult to her fans.
She is the end of mainstream pop. It’s eaten its own tail now. Game over. All the piano and dance lessons that mommy can buy do not an artist make. She’s your basic spoilt bimbo, product of the Tik Tok generation: she will say and do anything for attention. She is the ultimate pop narcisssist-woefully inarticulate, loud, underdressed and overexposed.
No matter how ill-advised or vacuous, she will go there. Suddenly, Lady Gaga looks like a towering intellectual giant. It’s music generated by algorithms, mass- produced, generating outrage, all designed to grab headlines and up sales. But it’s empty product. She’s mediocre beyond belief. Pop has always been predicated on sex, but she is marketed to little kids. It is all kinda fucked-up.
The irony is not lost on me. I’m commenting on her, and I feel simultaneously annoyed and vindicated. Ahh, the sting of cognitive dissonance as you know you’ve been played, but are commenting on the vagaries of pop culture.
I may be an old Goth, but there is nothing wrong with decent pop. I like Beyonce, Billie Eilish, Lizzo, Jessie Ware, even a Dua Lipa track here and there. Yeah, throw me outta Coolsville. I was only ever a visitor.
Doja Cat, however, proves that when you stare into the void, there’s a *kerrr- chinggg!* sound emanating from there. Integrity, hope and strength? Not here. Back to your litter tray, love. You can create your next magnum opus there.