Three brightly colored images transition on the cover page of the “Miley Cyrus & Her Dead Petz” website.
The first image is Cyrus, full of glitter, with light blue and pink smoke-like paint surrounding her. The next image shows Cyrus and a bright orange background with what appears to be caramel streaming all over her face as waves of sprinkles surround her.
The last shows Cyrus’ head pushing through a large liquid waterfall of milk. A bright barrage of colors covers all of Cyrus’ face, with her mouth wide open, in each of the three portraits. The three images already tell half the story, and represent what Cyrus’ new album, “Miley Cyrus & Her Dead Petz,” is; a sticky loud mess.
The album begins with “Do It,” Cyrus’ attempt at a new anthem. “Yeah I smoke pot,” she declares, “Yeah I love peace But I don’t give a ****, I ain’t no hippie.” These four lines illustrate Cyrus’ attempts to become her own individual in the past few years.
Cyrus is trying to prove that by smoking weed she’s been awakened, and no longer cares what anyone says or thinks about her. Cyrus has relied on controversy to attract attention and to come off as groundbreaking. But “Miley Cyrus and Her Dead Petz,” released Aug. 30, would have only been ground breaking if it was released 50 years ago.
The whole album comes off as a facade. She seems to take whatever electronic sound she can find, showing off her five-note vocal range that goes from yodel-like whining to a scratchy cat-like shrill and layers it on to a loud clash of noises; repeating the same process with each track.
The entire album is uninspired, lazy, and what makes it worse is that it contains a whopping 23 tracks, which is more than 90 minutes of Cyrus’ born again, flower-child nonsense.
“Miley Cyrus & Her Dead Petz” offers nothing to the progression of music. It is full of recycled, overproduced sounds that are jumbled haphazardly together. Cyrus’ lyrics come in groups of pseudo-deep forgetful words; the kind you can hear from any local stoner with a guitar.
Cyrus attempts to show off her lyrical abilities in a piece dedicated to her dog, “The Floyd Song (Sunrise).” Here she laments her dog’s death, “The sunrise insists on gladness/But how can I be glad now my flower is dead.” While heartfelt, it is opaque and tries far too hard be poetic.
As the album progresses, her use of the elements, most notably the sun, gets old as it becomes one of her only forms of symbolism. Not only do her lyrics get old, the songs always fall into one or two places musically. They either go off into psychedelic space rock with relaxing soft vocals, or into overproduced electronic jumbles with no cohesion. On each tune, she either tries to be deep or discusses how she doesn’t care about what people and society think of her. Each track is a new layer that lacks any depth, and ultimately leaves the album hollow.
“BB Talk” is the peak of Cyrus’ mediocrity on the album, as the record turns into an audio book for a few minutes. Ruminating on absolute nothingness while trying to sound deep, Cyrus makes the track seem more out of place.
Cyrus does have talent, and her music ability has been shown in the past, but her obsession with being controversial, and different, by taking on other cultures controversies has gone on long enough. Cyrus continues to ignore the music and only focuses on how she is being portrayed.
There are instances where Cyrus could have excelled on this record. For instance, there’s “Space Bootz,” which features relaxing overtones, breezy vocals, and a non-overdone use of drug references.
But, as a whole, ”Miley Cyrus & Her Dead Petz” is a lavish attempt at trying to be different. It reveals who Cyrus really is; a poser trying to cling on to the last strands of relevance she has left. Cyrus was smart with making this album free, as it is doubtful anyone would spend more than three dollars on this work.
A more apt title for Cyrus’ work would have been “Miley Cyrus and her Dead Career,” as it definitely looks like that’s where it is headed.
Troy Kowalchuk can be reached at [email protected]
