Every song, every outfit, every move Lady Gaga's made since 2008 has been scrutinised within an inch of its life. She held our collective attention like few popstars before her – until our expectations became impossibly high, and the bubble burst. Her last solo album, 2013's ARTPOP, wasn't the musical disaster it was made out to be, but its release was drowned out by noise, much of it by her own creation.She spent the next two years in retreat, singing jazz with Tony Bennett, belting showtunes at award shows. She was clearly enjoying herself, she was damn good at it – and it felt like she was admitting defeat. Since when did Lady fucking Gaga stand for reverent tributes to the establishment? From a distance, Joanne, with its list of male rock collaborators, looked much the same. Was Lady Gaga finally revealing herself as the middlebrow traditionalist she'd always threatened to become?
Not exactly. Joanne is the sound of relief, like the weight's been cast off her shoulders. Joanne's cover casts Gaga as Carly Simon; her black-and-white The New York Times portraits evoke James Dean, Kristen Stewart. She hasn't lost her glamour; only the accoutrements. We see Superwoman for who she is – and she's vulnerable.
Somewhere in L.A., Kesha and Miley Cyrus are mad they didn't record this album first. Joanne is the Americana pop-rock album those two – with their Bob Dylan covers and Nashville roots – have been threatening to make for years. The Alabama Shakes, too, would slay this material. The South doesn't run in Stefani Germanotta's blood; she'll always be a good Italian girl turned New York theater nerd. But originality be damned, Gaga's more believable the more she leans into country or soul. The more tied she is to a musical tradition, the more she's part of something larger than herself.
Once you hear "A-YO", Joanne's second track and third single, it all starts to come together. "A-YO"'s appeal is instant – it's fun and unpretentious. Gaga's performance-art pretensions were all well and good, but pop is a lowbrow art form – it's nothing without pleasure. There's a slyness in Gaga's delivery we haven't heard in years; her bluesy inflections sound natural, unforced. Josh Homme adds a goofy lead guitar part, Mark Ronson brings his signature Motown/Stax horns, and BloodPop, co-producing, makes "A-YO" sound just current enough. It may not be a future number one, but who cares?
Now that Gaga's songs are no longer built around pop hooks or beats, it's become apparent: her songwriting isn't sophisticated, but her singing is heartfelt. When the two are in sync, you get perfection – "Bad Romance", "Marry the Night" et al. When they're out of sync, Gaga's vocals claw attention away from her songs. Both ring false. It's a trap many proud, self-identified "singers" fall into – do you love music, or just the sound of your own voice?
"Diamond Heart" should be one hell of a Bruce Springsteen album opener, but it never fully takes flight – the song's undercooked, the arrangement's too leaden. It's not enough to just borrow Born to Run's New Jersey imagery. For Springsteen, songwriting comes first – even his poppiest singles have precise emotional narratives. But Gaga's lyrics are images, statements of intent; cliches she tries to power through with her voice. "Diamond Heart" might be autobiographical, but it's not a photo of her memories – it's a staging.
"Perfect Illusion" is even more dissonant – it aims for transcendence, and hits more like a trainwreck. The song's pop-rock styling fits better on Joanne than as a single, but no other song goes nearly as big, and it has no business being an abrupt climax midway through the album. Still, the video is beautifully disorienting – everything the song aspires to be.Joanne's at her best when the songs speak for themselves. Joanne is Stefani Germanotta's middle name, and that of her father's beloved sister, who died eleven years before Gaga was born. The title track is delicate – fingerpicked Paul Simon balladry, sung with a Stevie Nicks warble, with a simple, haunting chorus – "Girl, where do you think you're going?" But Gaga can't resist going just a little too big. It would be so much more moving if she crooned the whole song, a la Karen Carpenter.
"Hey Girl", a duet with Florence Welch, puts everything into perspective. Florence and Gaga are two women who've endured tumultuous fame, learned similar lessons in life and music. They're two singers known for their sheer volume… on a duet that could be sung by the Muppets. And it's adorable! It's no Broadway-riot grrrl anthem, just a gentle hug between friends. And there's "Come to Mama", a call for peace that might have been insufferable on ARTPOP. But Gaga's let go of her messianic Mother Monster, save-the-children persona. She just radiates emotional generosity, and it sounds like Christmas.
Lady Gaga has not renounced dance-pop, synthesisers, or her stage name. There is no binary between Lady Gaga and Stefani Germanotta, between "real" rock music and mainstream pop. She can't outrun her artistic choices any more than she can renounce her heritage. On Joanne, Gaga confronts her lifelong Catholic guilt by embracing tradition. It comes to a head on "Sinner's Prayer", a Father John Misty co-write, where she confesses – but never apologises for – her sinful nature. She's at peace.
Even on Joanne's weaker moments, there's a purity of spirit that was drowned out on ARTPOP. Joanne is not a blockbuster record, and it's better for it. Gaga feels like an underdog for the first time in years. All that's left is to reclaim her identity as a songwriter. She still hasn't recaptured the lightning-in-a-bottle inspiration that possessed 2009's The Fame Monster – especially "Speechless", which rocked with more wit than anything on Joanne.
Lady Gaga turned 30 in March. Her cohort brought back pop as event, as an art form that could be pretentious and ambitious – and now they're ageing out of youth culture. There's a freedom in that. You don't need to chase number ones when you're already a household name.Death and loss hang over this album, even when they're not explicitly acknowledged. Joanne Germanotta, David Bowie, Amy Winehouse – Mark Ronson's last significant female collaborator, ten years ago. Trayvon Martin's murder inspired the mournful "Angel Down", which ends Joanne mid-phrase. It sounds like unfinished business. Lady Gaga will never be dull. That is, as long as she doesn't spend the next fifty years singing jazz standards.Image: InstagramRichard S. He is a pop musician and award-winning critic. You can tweet your grievances to @Richaod.
Advertisement
Not exactly. Joanne is the sound of relief, like the weight's been cast off her shoulders. Joanne's cover casts Gaga as Carly Simon; her black-and-white The New York Times portraits evoke James Dean, Kristen Stewart. She hasn't lost her glamour; only the accoutrements. We see Superwoman for who she is – and she's vulnerable.
Somewhere in L.A., Kesha and Miley Cyrus are mad they didn't record this album first. Joanne is the Americana pop-rock album those two – with their Bob Dylan covers and Nashville roots – have been threatening to make for years. The Alabama Shakes, too, would slay this material. The South doesn't run in Stefani Germanotta's blood; she'll always be a good Italian girl turned New York theater nerd. But originality be damned, Gaga's more believable the more she leans into country or soul. The more tied she is to a musical tradition, the more she's part of something larger than herself.
Once you hear "A-YO", Joanne's second track and third single, it all starts to come together. "A-YO"'s appeal is instant – it's fun and unpretentious. Gaga's performance-art pretensions were all well and good, but pop is a lowbrow art form – it's nothing without pleasure. There's a slyness in Gaga's delivery we haven't heard in years; her bluesy inflections sound natural, unforced. Josh Homme adds a goofy lead guitar part, Mark Ronson brings his signature Motown/Stax horns, and BloodPop, co-producing, makes "A-YO" sound just current enough. It may not be a future number one, but who cares?
Now that Gaga's songs are no longer built around pop hooks or beats, it's become apparent: her songwriting isn't sophisticated, but her singing is heartfelt. When the two are in sync, you get perfection – "Bad Romance", "Marry the Night" et al. When they're out of sync, Gaga's vocals claw attention away from her songs. Both ring false. It's a trap many proud, self-identified "singers" fall into – do you love music, or just the sound of your own voice?
"Diamond Heart" should be one hell of a Bruce Springsteen album opener, but it never fully takes flight – the song's undercooked, the arrangement's too leaden. It's not enough to just borrow Born to Run's New Jersey imagery. For Springsteen, songwriting comes first – even his poppiest singles have precise emotional narratives. But Gaga's lyrics are images, statements of intent; cliches she tries to power through with her voice. "Diamond Heart" might be autobiographical, but it's not a photo of her memories – it's a staging.
Advertisement
"Perfect Illusion" is even more dissonant – it aims for transcendence, and hits more like a trainwreck. The song's pop-rock styling fits better on Joanne than as a single, but no other song goes nearly as big, and it has no business being an abrupt climax midway through the album. Still, the video is beautifully disorienting – everything the song aspires to be.Joanne's at her best when the songs speak for themselves. Joanne is Stefani Germanotta's middle name, and that of her father's beloved sister, who died eleven years before Gaga was born. The title track is delicate – fingerpicked Paul Simon balladry, sung with a Stevie Nicks warble, with a simple, haunting chorus – "Girl, where do you think you're going?" But Gaga can't resist going just a little too big. It would be so much more moving if she crooned the whole song, a la Karen Carpenter.
"Hey Girl", a duet with Florence Welch, puts everything into perspective. Florence and Gaga are two women who've endured tumultuous fame, learned similar lessons in life and music. They're two singers known for their sheer volume… on a duet that could be sung by the Muppets. And it's adorable! It's no Broadway-riot grrrl anthem, just a gentle hug between friends. And there's "Come to Mama", a call for peace that might have been insufferable on ARTPOP. But Gaga's let go of her messianic Mother Monster, save-the-children persona. She just radiates emotional generosity, and it sounds like Christmas.
Lady Gaga has not renounced dance-pop, synthesisers, or her stage name. There is no binary between Lady Gaga and Stefani Germanotta, between "real" rock music and mainstream pop. She can't outrun her artistic choices any more than she can renounce her heritage. On Joanne, Gaga confronts her lifelong Catholic guilt by embracing tradition. It comes to a head on "Sinner's Prayer", a Father John Misty co-write, where she confesses – but never apologises for – her sinful nature. She's at peace.
Even on Joanne's weaker moments, there's a purity of spirit that was drowned out on ARTPOP. Joanne is not a blockbuster record, and it's better for it. Gaga feels like an underdog for the first time in years. All that's left is to reclaim her identity as a songwriter. She still hasn't recaptured the lightning-in-a-bottle inspiration that possessed 2009's The Fame Monster – especially "Speechless", which rocked with more wit than anything on Joanne.
Lady Gaga turned 30 in March. Her cohort brought back pop as event, as an art form that could be pretentious and ambitious – and now they're ageing out of youth culture. There's a freedom in that. You don't need to chase number ones when you're already a household name.Death and loss hang over this album, even when they're not explicitly acknowledged. Joanne Germanotta, David Bowie, Amy Winehouse – Mark Ronson's last significant female collaborator, ten years ago. Trayvon Martin's murder inspired the mournful "Angel Down", which ends Joanne mid-phrase. It sounds like unfinished business. Lady Gaga will never be dull. That is, as long as she doesn't spend the next fifty years singing jazz standards.Image: InstagramRichard S. He is a pop musician and award-winning critic. You can tweet your grievances to @Richaod.