In the summer of 2015, Carly Rae Jepsen was looking to the future: “My desire now,” she told an interviewer, “is to see how far I can stretch pop.” Her latest moves had evolved from the good-enough charm of Kiss—the album that contained her unexpectedly planet-dominating hit “Call Me Maybe”—into glossier, vintage-inspired territory: gated drums, squealing synths, a couple saxophone solos. ’80s pop rehashed for the new millennium feels staid in its omnipresence today—but remember when it actually felt like a bold new idea, when embracing that moment, in all its schmaltz and sentiment, could represent a genuinely surprising artistic turn?
The first step in claiming Jepsen’s future was E•mo•tion, a record of diamond-sharp songs—now a decade old, re-released as a deluxe 10th anniversary edition. In countless interviews, she has rejected the notion that pop music—hers or anyone else’s—ought to be considered a “guilty pleasure,” and E•mo•tion is, fittingly, a record of full-on pleasure: unselfconscious, effervescent, no irony to be found. These are songs about big feelings, matched by big-budget production, evincing a shameless devotion to pure pop: uptempo, tightly structured, stuffed with singable hooks and lyrics that don’t exactly hold up perfectly under scrutiny yet nonetheless scan as immediately relatable. “Run Away With Me” is the aural equivalent of a confetti cannon, the sonic translation of the way a crush makes you feel invincible. “Boy Problems” is neon and buoyant with its groovy bassline, chorus of na na nas, and percussion stabs like the kind of text you send with 15 exclamation marks. The exceptions to the bubblegum bangers formula are equally rewarding: The brooding, breathy “Warm Blood” and the poised ballad “All That” gently widen Jepsen’s sound without becoming a distraction.
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