If 2021’s ‘Planet Her’ is a sparkling fantasy world of glossy pop and alien allure, then Doja Cat’s fifth album ‘Vie’ is meant to be its “masculine” musical sister: an intimate, sensual ride threaded with zappy synths and funk bass. The album rarely feels assertive in a traditionally male-coded way; instead, it thrives on texture, groove and vocal fluidity, creating a seductive, immersive experience that refuses to sit still. Doja’s metamorphic vocal delivery – shifting from fluttery falsettos to animated rap scratches – is the glue, scratching, spinning and looping over the beats like a turntablist teasing vinyl.
Early missteps highlight the album’s tension between intention and execution. Considering the album’s ’80s inspirations, the lead single ‘Jealous Type’ is a cliché interpretation with shimmery, upbeat melodies paired with romantic despair, making it feel like a weak introduction to the album. Similarly, ‘Couples Therapy’ and ‘Stranger’ slow momentum, offering quality production but little that compels movement.
But these minuscule slips are overshadowed the moment ‘Gorgeous’ blasts through your speakers – when groove, sensuality and clever playfulness reach full force. It exudes debonair confidence, making you want to slink around the world like you’re Jessica Rabbit. ‘All Mine’ demonstrates Doja’s vocal dexterity, her high, jazzy, bluesy register floating above the beat before she cuts back into it like a DJ spinning vinyl. In ‘Take Me Dancing’, the album’s sole feature SZA arrives as a cameo rather than a crutch, lending a multigenerational joy reminiscent of Cameo’s ‘Candy’ and ‘Word Up!’ but never overshadowing Doja’s command of the track. Across these songs, she proves that her vocals are both instrument and performer – seductive, playful and endlessly inventive.
Throughout ‘Vie’, Doja doesn’t lean into brute masculinity in the way you’d think; instead, seizing dominance through feminine-coded moves like jealousy, seduction, and emotional manipulation. She’s still authoritative, just cloaked in softness rather than swagger. There’s a glimpse on ‘Lipstain’, which is a perfect snapshot of women’s playful, biting power as she snarls over the nostalgic beat: “Every girl’s a queen, but I’m the boss / We gotta mark our territory for them dogs, girl.” But when she finally flirts with trendy casual misandry on ‘AAAHH MEN!’, she taps into something closer to true attack-dog masculinity, battling with the push-and-pull of being attracted yet repulsed by the male species.
Doja’s production choices amplify this effect. Powerful ’80s-style synths, slapping basslines and occasional modern 808s combine to keep the album moving and engaging. ‘Acts of Service’, ‘Make It Up’ and ‘Silly! Fun!’ layer lush, bluesy chords over warped synths to create sultry, body-forward grooves. By the cinematic closer ‘Come Back’, it feels like the credits rolling on an ’80s coming-of-age film: reflective, glimmering and full of resolution after a kaleidoscopic journey through love and desire.
‘Vie’ proves that Doja Cat remains pop’s ultimate shapeshifter, offering an album that moves, seduces and entertains on its own terms. Now using nostalgic power-pop as her vehicle, Doja’s voice – morphing, scratching, fluttering and crooning – drives it with full throttle, keeping every track alive. It’s intimate, playful, and downright fun, and once it gets its tenterhooks into you, it won’t let go.
