The story of Chappell Roan’s ascent is a familiar one among pop stars: When she was 17, the Missouri native signed with Atlantic and released an EP of dour pop ballads called School Nights. It didn’t take off, and it’s not hard to see why. Songs like “Die Young” and “Good Hurt” are sparse, broadly “dark” and “eerie” and find her contorting her exuberant voice into a deep, Halseyan mumble. In early 2020, in an effort to regroup, Roan began working with a man who was a lot less famous than he is now: Dan Nigro. Their first collaboration, “Pink Pony Club,” wasn’t good enough for Atlantic, and Roan was dropped. Nigro believed in her, though—and so did a lot of other people.
For those in the know, “Pink Pony Club” was an immediately memorable artistic statement; its narrative running parallel with Roan’s own experiences, though the protagonist of “Pony Club” becomes a stripper rather than a popstar. She lives for the stage, knowing all too well her uptight parents won’t accept her passion. Her mother’s horrified reaction—“God! What have you done?!”—acts as the powerfully sung chorus. There’s a great writeup in Vulture that made the case for the song to be 2021’s “Song of the Summer” despite the song having come out a year prior. It’s been more than three years since, and this perfect song is still worthy of that title.
Unfortunately for Roan, this momentum was put on pause as her newfound collaborator gained some of his own. The titanic rise of Olivia Rodrigo took up a lot of Dan Nigro’s time, leaving Roan to release stray single after stray single with no album in sight. Songs like “California,” a yearning ballad about leaving home, and “Naked in Manhattan,” a sparkling ode to debauchery, took “Pink Pony Club” and split the difference. In September, these sundry singles were given a proper home on Roan’s debut album, The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess. By the time the album was released, nine of its 14 tracks had already had a life of their own. Despite the unconventional rollout, Midwest Princess does an impressive job of establishing Roan’s bright, gaudy and commanding artistic vision. While we have had the privilege of watching her shape herself over the past three years, it’s still remarkable for an artist to arrive fully formed.
The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess opens with one of Roan’s most challenging songs, the whimsical and capricious “Femininomenon.” Inspired thoroughly by musical theater, it begins flanked by strings, as Roan echoes the romantic misfortunes of her friends. Men haven’t been cutting it, but she has a solution: a Femininomenon, whatever that may be. Before each chorus, an increasingly frustrated Roan cuts through the melodrama with a catty demand for a song “with a fucking beat.” That beat is ultimately metallic and sharp, as though she’s drumming on pots and pans. “Femininomenon” acts as a litmus test for the uninitiated listener. Does a song that features the line “get it hot like Papa John” repel you? Maybe stop now. But, if you’re sold, proceed. There’s plenty more moments of delightfully unserious pop to come.
“Femininomenon” is followed quickly by a pair of songs that highlight how much Roan shines when she’s singing freely about sex and desire. It was only in the last few years that she came out as bisexual, and that experience finds its way into songs like “Red Wine Supernova” and “After Midnight.” On the former, she’s aiming to make you laugh just as hard as she is trying to make you dance. The jangly, guitar laden romp is brazen, with lyrics like “I heard you like magic / I’ve got a wand and a rabbit.” It’s a song delivered with a comically large wink to the audience, but it’s spilling over with so much awkwardness and joy that you can’t help getting sucked into it. “After Midnight,” too, is personality forward; an ode to late night revelry, Roan dreams of causing drama, bar fights and making out with your girlfriend or boyfriend, if that’s alright. The disco-indebted song is sonically slight out of necessity. Roan soaks up all other space with her cooing, belting, and shouting about how much she wants your “Hot! Hands!” on her body.
Earlier this year, Roan told Variety that “Stay” by Rihanna was the song that got her interested in songwriting: “I was like, I want to make songs like this,” she said. In spite of this inspiration, Roan frequently falters when she tries her hand at similarly lovesick balladry. “Coffee,” a conversational, piano-laden song about meeting up with an ex, is conceptually interesting, but fails to land with any real impact. Roan sings about avoiding any situation where she might let her guard down and make a poor decision. Its wisdom bristles against the blind hedonistic energy found elsewhere on The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess. The contrast is clear as “Coffee” ends and “Casual” begins. Here, Roan’s wit isn’t sacrificed for a downtempo moment. Over hovering synths and echoing drum hits, she excoriates a man who won’t acknowledge the depth of what they have going on. During its bridge, she bellows “I fucked you in the bathroom when we went to dinner / Your parents at the table, you wonder why I’m bitter,” her voice melding with the string section. It’s scathing and delicious.
Though she is still an emerging figure, her album feels in conversation with recent works by her more established peers. Olivia Rodrigo’s GUTS, for instance, is an interesting foil to The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess. Two artists, both proteges of the same man, both unabashed theater kids. The difference is that when Rodrigo sings about her own mistakes, she does so in a way that can come across like regretful self flagellation. When Roan does the same, it’s cast off with a shrug. Olivia Rodrigo reads as a human being, while Roan comes off like a cartoon character. While she’s a long way away from reaching the kind of stardom as Lady Gaga, Chappell Roan does fill a void in the pop landscape left behind by Gaga’s distance. She’s a reminder that on some level, pop stars are supposed to be bawdy and ridiculous. Chappell Roan, the persona, feels like a drag character in the same way that Lady Gaga, the persona, once did.
