But there’s nothing subversive about “Teenage Dream.” Perry’s notion of how teenage girls behave – or what they want from their pop music – is pretty depressing. It shares a lot in common with the major-label executive who once said he signed Britney Spears so he could market her not just to the overdriven libidos of adolescents but to the dirty imaginations of older men.
In Katy World, teens spend “Last Friday Night” this way: drinking shots, streaking, skinny-dipping, breaking unnamed laws, engaging in three-way sex and then passing out, determined to do it again next week. “Peacock” repurposes the beat from Toni Basil’s “Hey Mickey” into a naughty metaphor that barely qualifies as an off-color joke let alone a song.
The summer hit “California Gurls” is relentlessly mechanical, a chant masquerading as a song. The vocal performance, such as it is, sounds like a series of syllables digitally stitched together. Her summer fantasy isn’t nearly as sexy or sensual as she claims it is – unless Snoop Dogg’s molasses-smooth beach-blanket-pimp cameo qualifies.
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