On ‘Period,' the old Kesha is back. Again.

Washington Post

6 hours ago

Kesha burst onto the music scene with a distinctive brand of blunt, electrifying pop that seemed designed to take the dance floor by sheer force. Then came the genre-hopping.
It's nothing new for a pop star to pivot. Claiming maturity, sonic growth or the need to express something raw, musicians from Beyoncé to Lana Del Rey to Post Malone have recently asserted their indie, country or rock bona fides. It's rare for these pivots to go off without a hitch. For Kesha, a string of such sonic shifts have led to 'Period,' a semitransparent bid for yet another career reset.
'Period' is particularly confounding after 2023's 'Gag Order,' on which Kesha abandoned her party girl persona and reinvented herself as a purveyor of haunting, minimalist art pop. (Her earlier surprises include dabbling in rock on 2012's 'Warrior' and a collaboration with Dolly Parton on 2017's 'Rainbow.') The guttural, Rick Rubin-produced album marked Kesha's furthest jump from the Obama-era electropop that made her famous.
It also marked the end of her association with former producer Dr. Luke, with whom she had been embroiled in a years-long defamation lawsuit, and his Kemosabe Records. Her first release on the newly founded Kesha Records, 'Period' seemed poised to get back to massive-sounding pop, with help from some of the producers behind recent smashes 'Brat' and 'Renaissance.' Instead the scattered, occasionally enthralling effort raises an awkward question: What happens when your influence is all over today's pop, but you don't have anything new to say?
When 'Joyride,' the lead single for 'Period,' arrived last July, we were in the thick of 'Brat' summer. Kesha can confidently claim to be proto-' Brat,' but she still struggled to keep up with Charli XCX when adding a verse to the remix of 'Spring Breakers' this past fall. 'Joyride' thankfully isn't an attempt to blend in with the pop of the moment — just look at its strange klezmer-hyperpop instrumental. It does fall apart, though, when Kesha announces 'I am mother' in the second verse.
The other explosive songs on 'Period' are stronger, especially when Kesha leans into the slapstick of seduction. Decorated with New Order-esque kick drums, the so-wrong-its-right narrative of 'Red Flag' thrills when Kesha's speak-singing recalls her breakthrough hits. With its bubbly keys and chirping vocal filters, the song's exuberant bridge could have been lifted from peak-era Black Eyed Peas or Addison Rae's latest. Before whispering that she's going to 'Eat 'em up like amuse-bouche,' Kesha ups the tempo on 'Boy Crazy,' a similarly bouncy, carefree anthem.
Although advertised as a return to form, 'Period' is strikingly low on club-ready sing-alongs. Recent single 'Yippee-Ki-Yay' turns Kesha's long-standing interest in country music into a Shaboozey-like abomination. And she retreats to self-help clichés ('I've got a soul nobody can break') on 'The One,' over horns shrill enough to grace one of Jason Derulo's hits. Most frustrating is how headachingly loud the programmed percussion is across the album, often threatening to overwhelm whatever bland sentiment arrives in the lyrics.
Despite those missteps, Kesha manages to chart at least one fresh path back to the party. She sounds firmly at home on the opener, 'Freedom,' which begins with a slap bass part and erupts into an unexpected hook featuring an inspiring gospel choir. With slinky pianos and Kesha's devious delivery of lines such as 'I only drink when I'm happy/ And I'm drunk right now,' it eventually wanders into house territory, a new destination for Kesha. As the only 'Period' song produced by frequent Father John Misty collaborators Jonathan Wilson and Drew Erickson, 'Freedom' rings like an opportunity. When it's time for Kesha's next pivot, she knows who to call.