There is something existential and ponderous in Canadian pop star Tate McRae naming her third album So Close To What. It implies that an unidentifiable goal has been pursued and perhaps failed. For someone who has attained a high level of worldwide pop stardom, Tate may be alluding to the notion of fulfilment and the fact that, even huge success does not necessarily fill your cup to the brim.
What Tate is closer to, however, is becoming a strong contender that leads a nostalgic, 2000s-based pop formula with modern polish. The hooks are overt and catchy, the lyrics orbit around the endlessly exhumed sites of love and lust, and the production more cohesive than her prior projects – the latter simultaneously a blessing and detraction. The project does, however, sacrifice adventure for focus, comfortably situated within a safe zone of casual boppery that is pleasant but sometimes repetitive. Tate is not trying to reinvent the pop music landscape but instead, steps fully into the role of the raspy, confident vixen.
Opener “Miss Possessive” illuminates the difficulties of relationships in the public eye and a stern warning to those who would do as little as look at her love interest (“Look at the floor or the ceiling / Or anyone else you’re feeling… Just keep your eyes off him”). The mid-tempo R&B-lite production of hand claps, crumping bass and vocal samples are quite a good indication of the central sound of the album. Songs like “Signs” are sonically matching, invoking her massive hit “Greedy” with its sassiness and sternness as she calls out a guy for not being able to decipher her emotions (“I know you’re intelligent / Just no rocket scientist / So take all my silences / And do your damn best to figure it out”). Similarly, the catchy and fast-paced “2 Hands” is about the prioritisation of the physical over the verbal (“Cause they’re just words, they don’t mean / Need a little less talk, and a lot more touch”) and finds her blocking the extraneous efforts of a love interest (“You don’t got shit talk your last girl / Say that she’s nothing like me”).
The album’s appealing quality is its cheeky sense of humour and Tate’s self-aware embodiment of the 2000s pop star. For example,“Dear God” finds Tate pleading over sparse production to a higher power for them to remove memories of an ex who remains a temptation. “Take his kiss right out of my brain / Take the pleasure with the pain,” she prays with a wink. Similarly, lead single “It’s Ok, I’m Ok” is a bombastic, nonchalant track about a past lover moving on, reminding his new girlfriend “It’s okay, I’m okay / Had him in the first place… / You can have him anyway.”
The diamond in this nostalgic pop star fantasy, however, is the incredibly fun and kitschy “Sports Car” which parks itself at the intersection of Britney’s “I’m A Slave 4 U” and Pussycat Dolls’ “Buttons”. A whispery, sexually-charged track that is too self-aware in its approach to be completely earnest. Over blippy sirens, guttural Timbaland-esque synths and deep drums, Tate sings about the highs of a rendezvous in the fast lane with some ironic coquettishness (“Hey cute jeans / Take mine off me / Oh, golly gee”). The song takes a great turn with a sort of anti-chorus that is powerful and instantly quotable. “I think you know what this is / I think you wanna uhhh / No you ain’t got no missus / Mmm but you got a sports car,” she breathes across the glorious production. Those who were raised on this type of music get it. The song feels like an ode and satirical wink to those erotically-charged 2000s pop songs that had the subtlety of a car colliding with a pole. Yet, this completely works because Tate fully commits to it and invokes a bygone era that is sorely missed.
There are a few songs that have unique production in comparison to their fellow tracks. The mid-tempo, rollicking rhythms of “Revolving Door” captures the pathos of on-and-off again relationships with Tate eventually succumbing to the return (“Say I’m good but I might be in denial/Takes one call and that undoes the dial”). While still a polished and moody pop confection, Tate is subdued and vulnerable in her frustrations, alluding to the intrusion of personal struggle in her career (“Supposed to be on stage but fuck it, I need a minute”). Meanwhile, the sparkling “No I’m Not In Love” is a delicious confection of stuttering bright synths and is perhaps the polar opposite lyrically of “Miss Possessive” – even going so far as to sing how she doesn’t “hate every girl [his] eyes go to”. It is one of the album’s peppiest (and poppiest) songs, injecting exuberance into ambivalence.
There is a conspicuous lack of balladry on the project, however Tate has never shied away from exploring her feelings (her breakout hit is “You Broke Me First” after all). Songs like “Greenlight”, a mellow reflection on romantic indecision, allow some pathos to trickle into the project even if there’s a bit of cliched lyrics regarding “Band-Aids and bullet holes”. The soft, guitar-driven finale “Nostalgia” is a lot more earnest exploration of missed opportunities, self-reflection and not really being sure about the direction your life has taken. There are some genuinely revealing lyrics on the track – particularly about her mother who she sings “wasn’t raised right… / All she ever knew was guilt / Little did she know that’s all her kids would ever grow to feel.” However, on an album that has kept a relatively good consistency in sound, this track does seem a bit misplaced.
The album’s masterpiece combining emotion, pop, intensity and maturity is the opulent, orchestral rumination on hyper-sexualisation “Purple Lace Bra”. Over lush strings and a gorgeous airy beat, Tate reminds the listener that her exterior should not overshadow her complexities and thoughts (“I been crying / I been dreaming / Yeah I know that you look but you don’t see it”). Not only is this track beautiful and outside the sonic comfort zone that this album stays penned in, but gives the listener a glimpse into the turmoil of being objectified as a female in the industry. Tate’s voice on the track is also fuller and emphatic, letting the pain and frustration feel that much more powerful. “I’m losing my mind cause giving you head’s / The only time you think I’ve got depth,” she sings. It is a humbling track for the listener to be reminded that she contains multiple facets. This kind of mature lyrical theme combined with her pop sensibilities show a lot of growth and a great potential direction for her fourth album.
On So Close To What, Tate shows a clearer, concise version of herself, displaying maturity and assertiveness without losing her sense of cool and fun. Despite this album being quite sonically safe in its production, there are indications that the singer is gathering courage to leave her comfort zones. The project is full of snappy, polished pop-R&B songs that never go too far astray in quality but can be a repetitive experience when considered as a whole.
