There comes a time in every pop culture observer’s life when irony loops back around to sincerity. This summer, that time has arrived—its unlikely messenger: Addison Rae, former TikTok queen, one-time star of Netflix’s questionable He’s All That, and now, somehow, a credible pop star. If you’re surprised, you’re not alone. Rae herself seems slightly bemused by the cosmic turn of events. But here’s the twist: her debut album Addison isn’t just better than expected—it’s genuinely good. No punchline.
The joke, at first, was easy. Rae’s 2021 single, “Obsessed,” collapsed under the weight of its own internet snark, a musical footnote in the influencer-to-pop-star industrial complex. But two years later, armed with a series of improbably sophisticated singles (“Diet Pepsi,” “Aquamarine,” and the near-perfect “Fame Is a Gun”), Rae has pulled off one of the more delightful career swerves of recent memory. Not a comeback—more like a complete costume change. Out went algorithm-driven dances; in came references to Madonna, Björk, and late-night Radiohead listens. Addison Rae had quietly been studying pop history while we weren’t looking. It turns out she was paying attention.
The album itself is confident, smartly produced, and—perhaps most crucially—genuinely fun. Addison thrives on contradictions: it’s breezy but clever, frivolous but occasionally profound, polished but self-aware. Rae, alongside producers Luka Kloser and ELVIRA, isn’t afraid of a little pastiche—she leans hard into late-’90s nostalgia without getting stuck there. “Aquamarine” is deliciously luxurious, “Diet Pepsi” manages to be both sugary and weirdly moving, and “Headphones On” channels melancholy with just enough levity. “Money Is Everything,” meanwhile, finds her gleefully shouting, “I’m the richest girl in the world!”—a declaration so cheerfully indulgent it’s hard not to smile, or at least dance along ironically.
In short, Rae knows exactly what kind of pop star she wants to be: a little campy, a little chic, and entirely sincere about having fun. She understands that great pop isn’t purely about originality; it’s about pleasure. Her vocals may not belt like Ariana Grande‘s, and her lyrics won’t launch a thousand Reddit threads like Taylor Swift’s, but Rae compensates with undeniable charisma and surprisingly sharp instincts. She’s learned the fundamental lesson of pop stardom: charm matters more than perfection.
Her recent album launch event at The Box—a dimly lit burlesque club on Manhattan’s Lower East Side—confirmed that charm in vivid detail. Rae emerged dramatically on a vertical bed, handcuffed in silk lingerie, singing her single “Fame Is a Gun” with tongue firmly in cheek. It was equal parts Britney Spears and Broadway camp, yet somehow Rae sold it without breaking character or smirking. The audience—downtown glitterati, slightly bemused critics, ardent Charli XCX fans—couldn’t help but cheer along, visibly surprised at themselves for doing so.
Of course, there’s room for critique here: the album isn’t flawless. Some tracks blend into a cotton-candy blur, and a few of her more melancholy moments (“Times Like These”) skirt dangerously close to cliché. But to dwell on these flaws is to miss the real accomplishment: Addison Rae has turned the very concept of influencer-turned-musician on its head. She isn’t merely exploiting pop as a branding exercise; she’s reveling in it as genuine art.
It’s tempting to see this all as some kind of elaborate, ironic joke—a pop culture fever dream of a summer album. But irony can only take you so far. Rae isn’t playing at pop stardom; she’s genuinely good at it. So listen again. Enjoy the album. Addison Rae is having fun, and—surprise, surprise—so are we.
