‘So Close to What’ Album Review: Tate McRae is So Close to Perfection

Singer, dancer, and songwriter: Canadian-born Tate McRae is a triple threat and a force to be reckoned with. The winner of countless musical accolades and many Billboard-charting international hits, McRae is Gen-Z’s newly crowned “pop princess.” Following the wild success of “i used to think i could fly” and “think later,” McRae released her full-length, highly anticipated album “So Close to What” on Feb. 21.

“So Close to What” is Tate McRae at her A-game: It’s music for the reflective party girl and perfect for the 3 a.m. Uber ride back from the party — wild, messy escapism is infused with a youthful and vibrant energy that is almost addictive. It may not be the most groundbreaking or original album, as many of her songs might easily be mistaken for one another. Nonetheless, the album is perfect for a midday (or midnight) confidence boost, and somewhat surprisingly, extremely insightful and sharp at times. McRae may not be redefining pop music, but she’s giving us a reason to keep listening.

“2 hands,” “Sports car,” and “It’s ok I’m ok” were all accompanied by eye-catching, ambitious music videos. These songs are confident, sassy, and dynamic — McRae’s signature style. In “Revolving door,” she demonstrates her exceptional vocal talent in a track that’s glossy and insanely catchy. McRae renders a picture of a complicated and toxic relationship set to a fast-paced beat. She expresses addiction to a person she knows is not good for her: “Baby, I tried to call you/ Off like a bad habit.” The song is also a testament to youth and the pressures of growing older as she sings, “I’m more hurt than I would admit / I’m supposed to be an adult, but fuck it, I need a minute.”

At first glance, one of the standout songs of the album, “Purple lace bra,” strikes one as just another sultry hit, but further listening points to something far deeper. Similar to Britney Spears’ “My Prerogative” and Lindsay Lohan’s “Rumors,” “Purple lace bra” confronts the judgments and prejudices often waged against McRae as a popstar — that her seductive dances and sultry appearances ultimately distract from lackluster music. “Purple lace bra” is as sexy as it is sad — portraying McRae’s public image and persona and reflecting on the difficulties and challenges that come with being taken seriously as an attractive woman. At one point, she sings “I'm losin’ my mind ’cause giving you head’s / The only time you think I got depth.” This illustration of the double-edged sword of female sexuality is critical and timely social commentary, perhaps directed at the pop music industry.

While McRae’s hard hitting anthems defy expectations, other tracks don’t quite seem to land. “Miss possessive” and “Means I care” are rather boring, and lack the creativity of other songs. “I know love,” a collaboration with confirmed boyfriend The Kid LAROI, feels unenthusiastic. “bloodonmyhands” with Flo Milli is the better collab — clever and punchy: “I got a new man to please, fallin' for you is a damn disease,” Flo Milli sings.

At times, “So Close to What” weaves in religious or spiritual imagery, often contrasting with the provocative nature of the album. “Dear god” calls on a higher power to help forget for good a past flame. Similarly, “Nostalgia,” layered with regret, echoes a parallel theme with the line, “And I, I bite my tongue ten times a day / Half swear to God, I might just pray.” McRae relinquishes control and admits weakness in these songs, juxtaposing the self-assured nature of other tracks on the album.

“So Close to What” is vivacious, turbulent, and, most importantly, fun. But the album is also chock-full of depth — there are moments of intense vulnerability, where McRae expresses anger and frustration at herself, her loved ones, and her partner. “So Close to What” demonstrates that confidence and grace can sit comfortably alongside doubt and fear — a message any audience needs to and should hear. After listening, one just can't help but wonder: Tate, what happened that one night out in Boston?

—Staff Writer Caroline J. Rubin can be reached at caroline.rubin@thecrimson.com.