Doesn’t everyone dream of becoming famous when they’re a little kid? Of course, you only imagine the glitzy aspects; the custom fashion, riches beyond your wildest dreams, and entertaining an undying, passionate audience. It’s the type of fame Addison Rae sings about often on her debut album. She achieved 21st century celebrity as an online personality first, racking up 88 million TikTok followers with quirky dance reels and a wide smile. But like many women before her, overexposure and unending scrutiny nearly led to her downfall. Addison’s 2021 debut single “Obsessed,” an inoffensive, at worst just uninspired, dance-pop track designated her the punching bag for zoomers’ fixation on vanity and stupidity, and an appearance on The Tonight Show had older generations bemoaning the rapid degradation culture, with Rae as one of the creators at the forefront.
Despite what naysayers critiqued her for in the past, the past year saw her recast from flop star to the next left of center diva. Rae put her scrunched up nose to the grindstone after “Obsessed,” at which point unreleased tracks leaked online (a handful which were eventually released in 2023 on her debut EP AR), revealing she had more to show than the old heads were giving her credit for. A tireless dedication to achieve her pop star fantasy from years as a competitive dancer (plus a blooming relationship with producers Elvira Anderfjärd and Luka Kloser) reanimated Rae’s career, resulting in the neverending party that is Addison. It’s an album filtered through a rose tint, too blissed out on the present to worry about what might have happened and what comes next. It makes for one of the most exciting and escapist pop records of the year.
AR yielded mostly middle of the road pop reminiscent of Disney stars gone wild, with a standout in the one-time Lady Gaga demo “Nothing On (But the Radio).” In comparison, Addison (produced almost entirely by Anderfjärd and Kloser) plays with reckless abandon, and that audacious approach is at the core of the album. Lead single “Diet Pepsi” features a smattering of early Lana Del Rey-isms, and leans into the equal silliness and sensuality of a car hookup. Rae whispers in her high register, pleading with her beau to declare his love for her while tangled up in each other’s limbs, while the synths glide overhead. She makes it sound like the difference between life and death. This also isn’t the only song that calls Del Rey to mind; “Summer Forever” recalls vignettes of sun-kissed, sticky skin and the wide-eyed awe of Lust For Life’s “Groupie Love,” where both artists swoon over the mere company of their lovers.
This earnestness threads throughout Addison. “New York” is about the millionth love letter written about the Big Apple, but pulling from Charli XCX’s electroclash school of thought sets the album off on a high note. Rae’s gliding harmonies and hyperventilating breaths layer over a ticking bass drum as it mutates from an early FKA twigs demo to a saccharine sibling of Underworld’s “Born Slippy (Nuxx).” Some may say money can’t buy happiness, but Addison raises an eyebrow at that idea. The hedonistic anthem “Money Is Everything” inquires: What would it sound like if Britney Spears and Kreayshawn made a song together? Rae plays off the track’s cheekiness with such sincerity, giggling through lyrics about requesting the DJ to queue up some Madonna, that it’s irresistibly charming.
Even in the more melancholic scenes of the record, she spends them in a meditative, optimistic state. The R&B forward standout finale “Headphones On” functions as a succinct mantra for when times get tough; grab your earbuds, strut to the corner store for some Marlboros, and weather the storm. “You can’t fix what has already been broken,” she sings, manifesting brighter skies. “You just have to surrender to the moment.” Maybe pop music can learn a thing or two from Addison’s radical optimism. So much of the genre has been defined by highly manicured records that market themselves as windows into the private lives of our world’s biggest stars (minus recent bright spots in Charli XCX’s BRAT and PinkPantheress’ Fancy That). But influenced by the Charli school of messiness, Rae vows to never take herself too seriously. “Fame Is a Gun” views stardom as a Faustian bargain, something that once attained can skyrocket or nosedive in an instant. Rae knows this all too well, but given her commitment to ultra-exuberance, and promise to always show you a good time, she knows you can’t take your eyes off of her.
Rae often speaks about her pre-music career in fatalistic terms: Something nagged at the back of her mind in Lafayette, Louisiana: “How am I just going to get out of here?” she told The New York Times’ “Popcast.” She remains a bubbly Southern belle, yet her debut album is an unearthing of the pop student in her that was always there, one who needed more time incubating in her cocoon. In ELLE’s cover story on the budding star, Rae expressed gratitude for her innate drive to succeed, albeit by posting paid sponsorships videos in order to build up a resume. “I can appreciate that girl and say that was a girl who was going to make it happen,” she said, “no matter what that meant doing.” Addison simultaneously feels like a coronation and a make or break moment, and Addison Rae has brilliantly cemented herself among pop’s newest faces.
Jaeden Pinder is a writer based in Brooklyn, NY by way of South Florida. She has written for Pitchfork and Stereogum.
