Review Summary: Goo goo for Gaga again.
It’s pretty fitting that Gaga was cast as Harley Quinn, because her career trajectory for the last decade or so has jokerfied me. While it has received more favorable reappraisals in recent years, 2013’s
ARTPOP was released to a tepid response that found both the general public and the lady herself straining to make sense of it all. The singer would then go on to belabor a point that we already knew: Gaga has talent and Gaga can sing. It’s not that the (admittedly tender) collaborations with Tony Bennett or the plainness of the
A Star is Born soundtrack were bad, per se, it’s that they didn’t really play into any of the elements that were quintessentially Gaga. What
is quintessentially Gaga was something that she herself tried to “correct” on the stripped-back and “mature”
Joanne, but those gestures were met with little more than a shrug, resulting in an experience that I can only recall thanks to the advent of Wikipedia. Ironically, the revealing and plain aspects of the album were more of a put on than any of the wonky costuming and theatrics she used to carve a name for herself. 2020’s
Chromatica veered back into familiar dance and pop territory, but without the same soul and elbow grease that made her initial run so special.
So now we arrive at
Harlequin, a sort of in-between release that acts as somewhat of a prelude to Gaga’s next era and the companion to
Joker: Folie a Deux. The album itself reads like a punchline on paper: Gaga explores the world of the Joker with swingy and jazzy renditions plucked from the American songbook -and a Cardigans cover, too! But, you know what? Against all odds, it works.
Perhaps Gaga found herself freed by the sheer amount of silliness and camp at the heart of the concept, but she sounds truly uninhibited and willing to do just whatever the hell she wants in service of entertainment for the first time in a long time. The album opens with a rendition of “Good Morning” that has everything from gang callouts, jazzy drum rolls, and ripping saxophones. If you remain unconvinced by her utter commitment to the bit, there’s the deliciously insane rendition of “Oh, When the Saints.” Much like the stairs in Mario 64, the song is on an ever-ascending trajectory, only briefly moving sideways with a wailing guitar solo and ending with a breakdown that brings the FUNK. “The Joker” is, objectively, the worst song on the album, but it’s so loud and silly that I can’t help but bob along -when she repeatedly belts “THE JOKER IS MEEEEEEE!”, I believe her.
Crucially,
Harlequin doesn’t work merely from its size and bombast. The quieter songs like “smile” or “Folie a Deux” -one of the album’s few original tracks- are clearly informed from all those years trying to be taken as a capital-S, capital-A Serious Artist with a level of passion and tenderness that are genuinely arresting. The aforementioned cover of the Cardigans’ “Close to You” is just delightfully warm and fuzzy. “Happy Mistake” finds Gaga and producer Bloodpop learning all the write lessons from collaborating heavily on
Chromatica to churn out a chilling and haunting showstopper that aims high enough to completely erase the silly pretense of this being for a dam
n Joker album.
And that’s really the magic of Gaga. At the height of her powers, she has the rare ability to make the world simply disappear for a little while. The world is simply a stage for her to dance, sing, and play piano on. It’s a bit silly that she seems revitalized by the Joker of all things, but it’s nice to see a generational talent remember her strength. Who would have thought going-for-broke would be the fix?
Harlequin is a brash and goofy mess that will surely be kryptonite to those who were never willing to buy into her many,
many eccentricities. For everyone else, it’s a three-word proclamation: GAGA IS BACK.
