Dreaming of the past, heart beating fast…
[Video]
[5.00]
Nortey Dowuona: (walks in) (hears gated snares that are too compressed to poke out of the mix) (walks out)
[5]
Leah Isobel: Modern technology is amazing. They put an ’80s Fortnite skin on Doja Cat.
[5]
Katherine St. Asaph: Pop-funk that doesn’t half-ass the latter. Doja Cat, with her confrontational trolling voice, isn’t a natural fit for the slinky Janet Jackson role, but she does nail the diva belting.
[7]
Claire Davidson: This is an odd thing to say about the woman responsible for what is arguably the most influential pop song of the decade, but Doja Cat has never really been convincing in a pop mold. She’s a rapper first and foremost, and when she’s forced to carry a hook, she defaults to a wispy falsetto that reveals just how narrow her range is — an affect that can serve a purpose in her more flirtatious material, sure, but isn’t very compelling on its own. “Jealous Type,” then, is rather counterintuitive, building its pop hook around starburst synths meant to evoke ’80s pop divas who were far more commanding on the mic than Doja Cat can even approach. For all of the track’s shimmer, it can’t really replicate the larger sonic scale of its reference points, shrinking to fit Doja Cat’s more demure presence on the chorus and forcing her to fight for air when she actually starts to rap. Why Kemosabe is forcing her in this direction is a mystery to me — yes, the more rap-driven Scarlet didn’t move quite as many units as Planet Her, but cuts like “Agora Hills” and “Paint the Town Red” are still circulating on the radio to this day, and they certainly stand out more than “Jealous Type.” Then again, Dr. Luke isn’t exactly known for honoring his artists’ versatility, now is he?
[5]
Al Varela: It’s hard not to listen to this song’s flashy, pop extravagance and not think about Doja Cat’s previous album, Scarlet: an album that seemed to resent Doja’s pop legacy and the pains of being famous (in which, ironically, its best songs were its big pop hits). Now she’s back making by far her most cynically pop single to date, complete with Jack Antonoff, a big budget music video, and ’80s pastiche that’s starting to feel more and more hollow. It’s like ordering a super cool looking cake with a bunch of cool decorations and colors and then when you bite into it it’s just fondant. This does what it needs to do, but it’s empty in a way that makes me wonder whether Doja will complain about this song in an interview two years later. Again.
[6]
Ian Mathers: The way I can never tell that it’s Doja Cat from one of her songs to the next is an important reminder to meditate on the idea that, deep down, there is no such thing as a “self.” This particular iteration isn’t doing much for me though.
[5]
Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Of all the pop hits since we came back at the end of 2023, the biggest one we missed was Doja Cat’s “Agora Hills”; in the month it peaked on the charts at number 7, we opted instead to cover, among other things, a Selena Gomez song that I forgot existed until now. I say this not to express my annoyance at my decision-making processes from 18 months ago but instead to lament that I did not have the chance to praise “Agora Hills,” a shockingly perfect pop song — it’s the song that is hiding within the tacky armor of every other single Doja Cat has released over the last five years, a surreal piece of Tumblr-rap revivalism that transfixes me every time I listen to it. It represents, at its core, the potential that Doja Cat has always had — a sui generis superstar, capable of feats of popcraft none of her peers can approach. In practice, though, she tends to instead make “Jealous Type.”
[2]
Alfred Soto: I swear it’s got a hook, and perhaps radio play will unearth it. “Jealous Type” is shiny enough to fool me that way
[5]