Review Summary: Synthetic rebellion gone wrong
Poppy exemplifies yet another uninspired attempt to commodify rebellion, presenting a sanitized corporate imitation of transgression that purports to be artistic evolution. This collection of overproduced, soulless tracks does not represent a bold advancement but a cynical rehash of styles that Poppy and her industry supporters neither understand nor respect. Every note, lyric, and meticulously crafted moment conveys an air of boardroom-sanctioned subversion, resulting in a hollow display of "edge" that is both market-tested and artistically bankrupt. These tracks lack conviction, presenting only the illusion of authenticity crafted by algorithms.
The fusion of pop and metal has always been tenuous, yet Negative Spaces serves as a particularly compelling example of why such integrations are likely to falter. This blend is not an organic combination of diverse influences, but rather a conflicting aesthetic disaster that highlights the artist’s lack of commitment to either genre. Metal necessitates primal authenticity, showcasing raw aggression and technical skill, while pop relies on accessibility, catchy melodies, and polished, risk-averse production. When these genres are forcibly combined without a grasp of their fundamental elements, the result is not an innovative hybrid, but instead poseur metal - a hollow appropriation of heavy music devoid of spirit.
The album's guitar tone starkly exemplifies this artificiality; it is a processed, over-compressed distortion that drains every riff, if they can even be called that, of substance and significance. The mix is shrouded in a thick, suffocating layer of studio polish, producing a sound so contrived and pre-planned that it ceases to be music, transforming into a high-budget imitation of what a marketing executive envisions "edgy" music to be. The warm authenticity of analog has been replaced by the cold sterility of digital overproduction. The result is a soundscape that is technically present yet spiritually absent, creating a lifeless environment that ensures no moment ever feels genuinely dangerous or unrestrained. While the guitar work may be technically proficient, it lacks sincerity and passion, embodying only the sterile precision of someone mechanically performing, confident that Pro Tools will eliminate any trace of human imperfection.
The vocal performance, if it can be categorized as such, is lacking. Poppy’s voice reaches new levels of synthetic emptiness, resembling the emotionless AI-generated vocals prevalent on platforms like Suno AI. Although this may be an artistic choice, possibly a deliberate exploration of the uncanny valley, it only accentuates the record's lack of genuine passion. Each note is excessively polished, and every syllable articulated with robotic precision, appearing as though it is programmed rather than performed. Unlike accomplished vocalists who convey authentic emotion, Poppy’s vocals reside in a sterile void, incapable of expressing anything beyond superficial affectation. It is not natural singing; it is an aural imitation, lifeless and devoid of soul, similar to using steroids to misrepresent talent in sports. In contrast, vocalists like Cristina Scabbia continue to deliver heartfelt performances, making it puzzling that Poppy’s mechanical approach receives acclaim.
Much of the responsibility for this failure may not fall solely on Poppy but rather on Jordan Fish, a producer whose involvement guarantees a product that is sonically immaculate yet artistically hollow. Having already turned Bring Me the Horizon into a musical equivalent of an energy drink commercial, Fish applies the same sanitized, focus-grouped method to
Negative Spaces, smoothing over any rough edges and sanitizing potentially intriguing ideas for mainstream appeal. His production highlights the decline of modern metal: overproduced, overly compressed, and entirely lacking in danger. The same disingenuous ethos that has turned BMTH into a parody of metal is evident here, underscoring how corporate influence has stripped heavy music of its core essence.
The metal elements on this album (if they can genuinely be termed as such) represent the nadir of poseur metal. The chugging, down-tuned riffs are constructed with the enthusiasm of an AI trained on a playlist titled Spotify Metalcore Essentials, and the screamed vocals, when they appear, sound as if recorded out of contractual obligation rather than artistic necessity. There is no grit, no anguish, and no sincerity; instead, there is a mechanical imitation of heaviness, designed to appeal to an audience unfamiliar with authentic metal records. This is not metal. This is a facade, a hollow aesthetic choice made to maintain credibility among listeners who lack knowledge of the genre's foundations. Metal culture should not be treated as a costume.
Negative Spaces represents a failed attempt at synthetic rebellion. It aspires to encompass everything yet commits to nothing, functioning more as a genre tourism endeavor that prioritizes marketability over authenticity. It reflects an industry expert at selling individuals their own images, presenting a facade of innovation while lacking substance. No level of polished production, AI-generated vocals, or superficial aggression can mask the emptiness at its core. While Poppy seeks to transcend genres, she ultimately delivers an album that fits within none.
