She aimed for pop-game Chipotle, complete with enlightened prose on the cups. We all know it’s near-impossible for pop this focus-tested to drop truth bombs about America’s fractured state, but Perry’s efforts to finally transcend Top 40 confectionary with a cohesive album leaves her in a tough spot. With Witness’ confounding combination of songwriting sloppiness and sleepiness, broad strokes are the really the best Perry can hope for these days. One-third of the 15 tracks have vaguely empowered themes, the best of which-“Power”-approximates feminism by politicizing a personal struggle for control. Her stated goal of making woke pop is, depending on how cynical you are, either admirable or shameless (or both), but either way, it’s not terribly effective.

Perry needs strength for what she’s trying to do, too. The funny thing about these lyrical clunkers: Her vocal performance on the piano ballad is perhaps one of her loveliest on record to date-understated but stronger than her voice used to sound. The other time she comes close, on the Hot Chip co-write “Into Me You See,” gets muddled in the wordplay: bad nautical metaphors mixed with earnest usage of the phrase “open sesame,” and a chorus whose elision of “into me you see” into “intimacy” comes out awkwardly enough to warrant a double take. It is the one time on Witness where Perry is actually subtle. “We were a match, but not a fit,” she laments later, with a hint of the depth she so badly wants to project. “I miss you more than I loved you,” goes the chorus, playing with the passage of time like that great “Call Me Maybe” line (“Before you came into my life, I missed you so bad”).

Witness’ best track (and one of three she co-wrote with Purity Ring’s Megan James and Corin Roddick) “Miss You More,” where her piano balladry perfectly meets the record’s electronic production, swirls and snaps its way to a sweeping crescendo with a few glints of lyrical hope. Occasionally, Perry doesn’t put her foot in her mouth. If you’re going to do something as tired as fueling this beef, at least give us the satisfaction of making it deliciously shady. Instead, she softballs, over Eurodance beats that sounded fresher three years ago, “You're ’bout as cute as an old coupon expired,” like the “Drag Race” queen who talks a big game then bombs the reading challenge. Teaming up with Nicki Minaj for a diss track aimed at mutual foe and burgeoning pop pariah Taylor Swift, Perry had built-in narratives on her side-all she had to do was bring the barbs. fumbling even the most obvious opportunities for verbal flourish. Instead, the album’s turns of phrase make Carly Rae Jepsen look like Yeats, with Perry and co. The bar is low when it comes to pop lyrics ( Perry, specifically), but with Witness’ premise lying in “real” talk, the talking part seems pretty important. The world does not need a hoary sequel to “Email My Heart” lest Perry double down and joke about how she’s “setting an out-of-office reply” for love, but instead she shrugs one of the record’s worst, most inscrutable lines: “I don’t fuck with change, but lately I’ve been flipping coins a lot.” It’s bad enough to put up with her constant hokeyness, her clichés and mangled metaphors, but when she takes an audible breath and tearily declares her decision to… save the email as a draft on the Lorde-jacking power-ballad “Save As Draft,” you will question her ability to separate modern mundanity from actual depth. Or perhaps it's that as soon as you get into a groove, Perry goes and says something truly cringe-worthy to pull you right out. For as omnipresent as executive producer Max Martin is, the hooks just don’t sink in the way they used to. To her credit, Perry’s sound is more consistent and tasteful here than it has ever been, as she explores the midtempo via atmospheric electronics and bleeding-heart pianos. (Seriously: I got a press release about watching Perry’s “shockingly honest” therapy session, the canned nature of which made her 2012 doc Part of Me resemble Don’t Look Back.) Not thoughtful enough to be album pop, not catchy enough to be singles pop: there is no real way to root for Witness- tone-deaf PR campaign included. Her attention to detail pales next to that of album-minded peers like Beyoncé, Drake, and Lorde, and her poorly chosen singles often rely on eye-rolling gimmicks, even for someone who used a large poop emoji as a live prop.

Katy Perry now finds herself in this position, and the reason is twofold. So what happens when your fourth record kinda sucks, too?

Katy perry witness red vinyl