“Orgies are fun because that’s where pop music comes from,” Babymorocco recently quipped. The Moroccan-born English creative, a.k.a. Clayton Pettet, is certainly no stranger to desire’s creative potential. For a specific subset of chronically online queers, his transformation from Tumblr-famous performance-art twink into beefy pansexual party boy has been a decade in the making. The playfully outlandish himbo facade belies a tender heart beating under a big chest (just barely) covered by a trackie. This Venusian eroticism has been central to Babymorocco’s whole schtick since he was posing naked with flowers and serving Caravaggio it-boy.
On Amour, Babymorocco’s aptly titled first full-length, the romance (and raunch) are turned up until the speakers burst. Between link-ups with producer dear cupid and frequent collaborators Frost Children, he chiseled the electro sleaze of debut EP The Sound into uber-horny electropop of the highest grade. Babymorocco is caught somewhere between Snow Strippers, early Crystal Castles, and the Dare (if he had sex appeal). It’s music that wouldn’t at all feel out of place in a Skins episode, the soundtrack to a rave where a bunch of young Brits are getting absolutely fucked.
On its slick surface, Amour is an uncomplicated party album. Given the state of the world, leaning into playful hedonism isn’t unwelcome—see the massive 2024 Charli XCX had with Brat. In the same vein, Babymorocco zeroes in on the human desires and concerns tied to raving until sunrise. For every song about dancing next to someone with “big boobs and a tiny little waist” (a cheeky line from self-referential “Rocco”), there’s another about a search for real connection—dare I say, love.
Babymorocco is high on a number of things on Amour. He’s on flights, he’s in love, he’s snorting whatever’s on the table at the afties. On soaring club track “Red Eye,” which channels old-school EDM, he confronts a former beau over a blaring drop bolstered by handclaps and vocoder distortion. The emotional reflection comes about halfway, after an onslaught of tracks that double as a shamelessly fun masterclass in electroclash revival. “Really Hot” channels the vanity Babymorocco embodies into a confident anthem bursting with chugging bass and synth. The lyrics might be more insufferable (“When they look at me I’m hot/I get paid cause I’m attractive”) if the song itself wasn’t exactly what you would want to hear in the background as you tighten your corset and put on your heels before a night out.
Given Babymorocco’s frequent trips to Paris during the making of Amour, it’s worth noting the sheer amount of French electronic influence here, from Discovery-era Daft Punk reduction “Babestation”—possibly a sacrilegious comparison, but tell me you don’t hear the echo of “Aerodynamic” in that opening guitar riff—to the Parisienne partygirl’s monologue “Homosexuelle? / Interlude” and irreverent Eurotrance of closing track “No Cameo.” How could a record with that name not have some tie to a place sometimes called the City of Love?
Opening yourself to the emotional highs and lows of loving someone is always a risk. How many of us who have had our hearts broken went straight to the club for absolution—whether seeking a hottie willing to have a compliment screamed into their ear or to simply sweat out the sadness? On Tailtiu-produced “Left u on the Track,” Babymorocco grinds up against that feeling as he talks about a love that only survives in the song: “Felt the time just slip away when I looked into your eyes/Then you broke my heart in three, but to me, that’s no surprise.” These hidden glimmers of real feeling save Amour from being more than just another party album; it’s inviting and sensual, like the sexiest person in the smoking area who, after a good conversation and a cigarette, grabs your hand and leads you into the fog.
