If we took away King Princess’s only edge, that being a “Young Queer Voice,” what do we have left?
Just another private school dropout showcasing their ability to stretch money as far as it can go.
Mikaela Straus’s songs are passé, derivative and exceptional only in their ability to not sound unique in any way. I sent myself on a journey attempting to figure out why everyone around me is celebrating this overnight “Lesbian Jesus,” a title I thought was already held by pop-star Hayley Kiyoko.
I don’t understand what makes her an “essential new voice” in pop music because she definitely is not the first to shed light on being queer in the public eye. As a fellow lesbian, I find “Pussy is God” cringey and tasteless, offensive and useless, while elsewhere it’s quoted as being a “sexy lesbian love song.”
Her music is a cry for help in the form of an outdated diary entry.
Am I missing something? At what point did her story become relatable? Personally, I can’t count on a single hand the amount of people I knew growing up that had access to a professional music studio and a father with a well respected job (or a job at all, for that matter.) Why are we giving this girl a crown with a title and platform that already exists for similar, more talented, artists?
Naturally, I have more respect for those that have worked harder to be somewhere, but perhaps this is yet another reminder how people are only at the top because Daddy put them there. Maybe we should rename her Highchair Princess.
I have mixed feelings about KP, at least as a human being. On one hand, she does have an awareness of her white privilege, and is using said privilege to champion trans, people of color, and immigrant communities, even though her views on intersectionality and inclusivity are all armchair shit she probably read once on the internet. On the other hand, Miss Princess is lyrically weak and musically bland. She is lost in the idea that being queer is a hashtag that can keep you relevant, writing songs that talk about a lifestyle but ultimately say nothing personal or revelatory about her experience and in the end, sound straight up tired.
As we so proudly say “Not my president,” Not my princess.