Slayyyter emerged in the late 2010s as part of the decade’s burgeoning hyperpop movement. Her self-titled mixtape, with both production and a vocal feature from scene veteran Ayesha Erotica, positioned her as the next in line to her throne — raunchy, auto-tune slathered pop with trashy but electrifying production. However, Slayyyter — whose real name is Catherine Garner — would smooth down the rough edges of her sound into a pristine shimmer over the years, with her music in both 2021’s “Troubled Paradise” and 2023’s “STARFUCKER” slowly shifting to a more mainstream direction. Although her trademark sexual lyrics still popped up on tracks like “Throatzillaaa” and “Erotic Electronic,” it seemed like was seeking less to provoke and more to fit into pop conventions. That’s not a dig at either of these albums— both are great records; “STARFUCKER” is what made me a Slayyyter fan in the first place— but they are, for lack of a better term, more “normal” than her eclectic roots. Her new album, “WOR$T GIRL IN AMERICA,” is not content to rest on these laurels.
It’s hard to believe that Slayyyter was considering quitting music before this record was finished. Her energy is at an all time high on every song here, and the production rises to the occasion. Rather than the slick synths and repetitive grooves of her last album, “WOR$T GIRL” boasts confrontational, pounding club beats that pulsate like a dance floor orgasm. I’ve seen comparisons to Charli xcx’s “BRAT,” and while this makes some sense with both albums drawing heavily from club music and seeing unexpected mainstream recognition, I think the ethos of “WOR$T GIRL” is more comparable to Kanye West’s “YEEZUS” with its throttling industrial sound palette and hedonistic, bad-bitch attitude.
The album’s lead single “BEAT UP CHANEL$” struts forward with toxic diva motion as Slayyyter drawls out her desires — “sex, money, bitches, and the stickiest weed” — and concludes with a euphoric synth that soars in during the last chorus. It’s one of many of the album’s tracks that carry a sort of sinister energy to them. For another example, look no further than “CRANK”: which bludgeons the listener with an electronic post-chorus that sounds like a backfiring motorcycle as Slayyyter shouts “CRANK IT” beneath layers of vocal distortion, or mid-album highlight “YES GODDD,” whose snarling, Justice-inspired groove grinds so hard it clips even Slayyyter’s own screams into fragments under its weight.
There’s also “OLD TECHNOLOGY,” which keeps the clubby pulse on a bit of a lower level, and sees Slayyyter adopting a bratty sneer to her voice as she winks to her audience, “I’m doing drugs tonight/Ones that I’m not prescribed.” Pretty much any song here would go off on a dance floor, and sonically and vocally Slayyyter applies enough variety to the tracklist that the consistently high energy never becomes stale.
There’s further joy to be gleaned from late album highlights like “$T. LOSER” which employs a Nine Inch Nails–esque throbbing beat for Slayyyter to spit her self-affirmations over, “I think I get the low bill, but I’m the fucking main event” and make a surprisingly sober nod to both the state of the world and pop culture discourse, “If kids are bumping my shit, that’s a recession indicator.” “OLD FLING$” keeps the dance floor popping but embraces melodic, “Homework”–era Daft Punk synths for a less aggressive, more reflective feel. This introspection is hard to find on the album if you aren’t looking for it, but there are peeks at Slayyyter’s struggles and insecurity in fleeting moments, like “GAS STATION” or “WHAT IS IT LIKE TO BE LIKED?” where the vocal stuttering and addictive bassline muddle lyrics like “I wanna die/I wish I lived a different life, I lost the time/Can’t get it back and so I cry/All day and night.”
These themes of internal strife come to a head on the album’s closer, “BRITTANY MURPHY.” This song feels like a bit of a homecoming for Slayyyter, employing a heavier autotune on her vocals that feels like a tip of the cap to her hyperpop roots. Like the rest of the record, it keeps the energy high, but look past the four-on-the-floor beat and climactic chorus and you’ll hear troubled lines like, “Tell them I am sorry for/The gun inside my bedroom drawer/This was inevitable/Only thought it’d make you love me more.” The vestiges of Slayyyter’s career insecurity and mental health struggles cling to these tracks and add an interesting emotional element to “WOR$T GIRL” that make it so much more than just danceable hits.
Slayyyter is but one of many pop artists utilizing club aesthetics in her music as the 2020s march into untold chaos, and it’s not hard to see why. In the current moment, the fantasy of an endless party feels far more palatable than the world we’re living in. But what makes “WOR$T GIRL” so special isn’t the escapism it can provide, but the unnerving sense that all is not well behind the booze, babes, and barbiturates. In this way it is thoroughly modern thematically while sonically embracing the best club music from the past. More than that, it establishes Slayyyter as a unique voice in pop with a no doubt illustrious future ahead of her.
