The microphone dangling from the sky above the Instagram Reels page can feel like a dare: How long before you scroll past this pastiche of a rapper you’ve heard before? So when a light-skinned young woman with curly hair and freckles named Cortisa Star appeared one day behind that microphone, rapping, “He like my body, he know I’m a tranny,” it felt like a glitch in the system. Her choppy vocals sounded like they were coming through a walkie-talkie that was too far away, and her ad-libs were delivered in a Star Wars robot monotone. Everything felt out of place, especially for the beige world of Instagram Reels rap video content, and this experimentation was the hook that drew in fans, haters, and queerphobic bigots. Such is the polarized landscape of contemporary viral rap fame. Another Instagram account posted a quote attributed to Cortisa: “I’m like SOPHIE if she got posted on Worldstar.”
“FUN,” the song featured in the infamous From the Block video, blended regional and internet rap scenes, collapsing Jersey club bed squeaks into comedic levels of distortion. The dominant sound of E.M.O. (EVIL MOTION OVERLOAD), Star’s debut EP, is more aligned with PC Music-branded hyperpop, a shift that positions her as a pop diva working on the borders of club music. But Star rarely sings, preferring to explore these soundscapes through her usual bratty punch-ins. While E.M.O. retains Star’s quick verses and head-turning one-liners, it lacks the adventurousness of A.G. Cook’s pop productions, or the dizzying flows of Azealia Banks’ hip house, focusing more on Star’s piercing, Kesha-like delivery.
Take “ALOT,” a runway-ready track built off a rumbling four-on-the-floor pattern. The jumpy percussive bassline evokes the excitement of Charli XCX’s SOPHIE-produced “Vroom Vroom,” but there aren’t enough moving parts for the track to fully develop; it keeps stalling, teasing some rhythmic shift or standout hook but never quite making it there. “FITS” suffers the same fate, grabbing attention with earthquake bass stabs that overwhelm Star’s performance, which settles in the same pocket without stretching out. The massive proportions and pristine finish of the sound design present as larger than life, but the songs wind up feeling like they’re all facade.
Star is at her best when her blisteringly ironic wordplay is bolstered by production that’s equally self-aware. On “Cortisa Crump,” originally released in 2024, the tongue-in-cheek medieval chant sample and bowling-ball 808s help her unserious lines land. “Working these bitches like my name is Benson” sounds just as trashy as the low-bitrate choir recordings surrounding it. “Misidentify” works similarly; the high-drama buildup is so long it becomes funny. By the time she gets to “Mastered rapping high up, in the mountains with a samurai,” it’s like she’s poking fun at the entire hip-hop spectacle.
In a recent interview with The Fader, Star reflected on growing up as a queer rap fan: “I didn’t know too many queer rappers just because there wasn’t too many openly on the song saying, ‘I’m a tranny, I’m gay, this, this.’” What makes E.M.O. (EVIL MOTION OVERLOAD) more than a passing moment is its unabashed queerness to the point of vulgarity, a preemptive dismissal of any demand for respectability. When Star raps, “Fucked on that trade hoe and now I’m embarrassed” on “Paris,” it has an authentic bite; she’s not trying to make a statement, just talking to those already in the know. E.M.O’s abrasive sine waves, blown-out drums, and overproduced textures are familiar tropes of queer internet music that Star uses as a launchpad to explore her unique position as a transfemme in rap spaces. All she needs now is a sound palette that’s as distinctive as her vision of nonconformity.
