Porter Robinson thought he was in for some fun. After the exploratory vulnerability of the 2021 album Upbringing—disillusioned after years of trying to complicate the candy-painted sheen of his EDM experiments—the North Carolina-raised musician set out to reconnect with the pleasure-seeking that was his first job. His new album SMILE! :HEY it's incredibly nostalgic and unapologetically happy, full of maximalist catchphrases that glow like Blingee gifs and tender vocal melodies that vibrate with the youthful abandon of suburban skate shop songs.
On one level, it's a cathartic release, a relieved exhalation after a creative block leading up to his latest album. With a guest spot from alt-pop pranksters Frost Children and a barrage of silly stunts to promote the album's singles, he signaled his goofy intentions. (At a pop-up event for “Kitsune Maison Freestyle,” he checked out every fan who showed up and gave away clothes from his own closet.) But what's actually in the songs is more complex and emotionally raw than the reckless abandon suggests of .
For the first time, Robinson reveals more of his sense of humor—”Bitch, I'm Taylor Swift,” he croons on “Knock Yourself Out XD”—but beneath the bright colors and silly jokes, he wrestles with heavier themes. “Cheerleader,” though built around a synth pencil as sickeningly sweet as the dust at the end of a Smarties die, grapples with the dynamics of parasocial relationships between fans and artists. Grateful yet anxious, lighthearted yet fractured, the track's tone is a tightrope walk made all the more dizzying by the sugary rush of its instrumentals, which are as reminiscent of the impossibly glossy emo pop of late Warped Tour staples as subway station and the post-hyperpop experiments of singer-songwriters like glaive and aldn.
Throughout, Robinson contemplates aging and becoming almost a pop star and an increasingly public figure. Even when he wraps his thoughts in colorful, caffeinated traps, they hit hard. On “Year of the Cup,” he sings about a desperate, self-inflicted desire to be liked: “I can't sleep/'Cause my mind keeps pounding with moments I've put everything wrong with me on stage/It's embarrassing. ” “Easier to Love You” ponders the loneliness of aging, finding frustration in the distance between the person you are and the person you thought you could become. Meanwhile, he favors the most brilliant arrangements he's ever planned: Tempos stay high and jingling guitars float skyward in the mix.
The energy is never more impressive than on “Russian Roulette,” a bittersweet song that grapples with career burnout and suicidal ideation — and makes a famous retrospective joke from the early Pitchfork days — before ending with one of the most impressive moments in the entire album. After an emo-laden chorus – “I wanna live/I don't wanna die” – leads into a bouncy trance outro, a primitive computer-generated voice lectures on dance music clichés (“The kick drum and bass suggests that the song is coming to an end — that's the format we're used to'' before scolding, 'Don't kill yourself, you idiot'. Amidst such stark contrasts in tone, the sudden vulnerability is oddly affected.
The separation between the effervescent sound and the fallen mood is terrifying. Robinson has been smiling through pain since at least the days of the raucous but revealing “Sad Machine,” but something is different. SMILE! :HEY, as if he were under less pressure to grasp the big, sweeping emotions. He's willing to be chaotic and a little all over the place, and while this occasionally results in moments that are difficult to process, Robinson proves that he's as adept at twisting poignant moments from pop tropes as he is at creating alien worlds.
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