‘Mayhem’ Review: Lady Gaga Wants You to Party Like It’s 2009

Even throughout Lady Gaga’s requisite ups and downs as a singer, songwriter and actress (the less said about last year’s “Joker: Folie à Deux,” the better), the 38-year-old New Yorker born Stefani Germanotta has remained imperially famous for so long, it can be difficult to recall the subversive thrill of her initial rise.

When she ascended to superstardom in 2009, Gaga was an unabashed striver of a downtown club kid who cut her crowd-pleasing electro-pop with a deadpan, Warholian affect and an old-fashioned sense of musical showmanship. Whether dressed like an alien, an evil monarch or a butcher shop’s display window, she reveled in artifice and rewrote the script for the female pop star, reimagining sexuality as something weirder and more expansive — for both herself and her fervent fan base — than it had been in the Britney-and-Christina era. She was a welcome shock to pop’s system in the risk-averse late aughts — a romanticized era she mines for self-mythologizing nostalgia on her emphatic new album, “Mayhem.”

“Mayhem” is a bright, shiny and thoroughly sleek pop record, produced by Gaga, the rock-star whisperer Andrew Watt and the Max Martin protégé Cirkut. Even at its dirtiest — the digital grunge of “Perfect Celebrity,” the slithering liquid funk of “Killah” — every sound is etched in clean, bold lines.

It’s considerably sharper than her previous two pop solo efforts, the tepid 2016 quasi-country album, “Joanne,” and her unfortunately timed 2020 return to the dance floor, “Chromatica,” a mixed bag that now sounds overly dated thanks to its embrace of pop’s then-trendy obsession with sound-alike house samples and beats. (Gaga recently admitted in a New York Times Magazine interview that she wasn’t operating at her highest level in the “Chromatica” era: “I was in a really dark place,” she said, “and I wouldn’t say I made my best music during that time.”)

But over the past few months, Gaga has stoked anticipation for her sixth pop LP with a wildly successful (if relatively anodyne), chart-topping Bruno Mars duet, “Die With a Smile,” and two of her hardest-hitting singles in a decade: the deliciously warped “Disease,” a churning, industrial pop dirge that highlights Nine Inch Nails as an influence on this album, and “Abracadabra,” a latex-tight dance-floor incantation with a chorus that finds her speaking in tongues like the high priestess of her own self-referential religion: “Abracadabra, amor ooh na na / Abracadabra morta ooh Gaga.” It is, of course, an expertly executed sequel to her 2009 smash “Bad Romance,” just as the following track, the skronky, gloriously hedonistic “Garden of Eden” plays out like an even more vivid return to the club she visited on her first hit, “Just Dance.”

Throughout its 14 tracks, “Mayhem” dances on the line between clever self-referentiality and less inspired rehashing. The corrosive “Perfect Celebrity” is a sonic highlight that nonetheless butts up against the album’s thematic and lyrical limitations, returning to one of her favorite, and now tired, topics: the damage inflicted by fame. Is the opening line — “I’m made of plastic like a human doll” — a winking throwback to the “Chromatica” track “Plastic Doll,” or a bit of recycled imagery?