We’re somehow three-quarters of the way into this fast-moving year. Out with the summer jams, in with the fall vibes. And hey, speaking of in with the new: I’m taking over as Stereogum’s pop columnist! You may have read my writing here – most recently on Ariana Grande – or on Pitchfork, Spin, the late, great Village Voice, or the late, great Singles Jukebox. (I’m noticing a trend here, but let’s move past it.) I also, as one does, have a Substack.

We’re going to play around with some format tweaks over the coming months. (Let us know what you’d like to see more of in the comments!) But in the meantime, I’m so excited to be here with you living out my radio-taping, TRL filming-going preteen dreams. It makes my heart go padam.

Kylie Minogue’s Tension wastes no time before giving its millions of listeners the main thing they’re there for: the slinky, hooky, and extremely horny dance track that went unexpectedly supernova this summer. Stans rejoiced (hi, stans). Pride obviously was all over it. The track even got a shoutout in British Parliament. (A note on that: “Padam Padam” so far has been much more inescapable in Britain than in America – well, than in offline/hetero America.) Kylie found herself with her first undeniable hit since 2010’s serviceabley mid “All The Lovers.”

Unsurprisingly, because we live in the most tedious sort of society, this kicked off an extremely boring discourse about ageism. All the usual arguments arrived on formulaic cue, like some op-ed version of the Hero’s Journey. Multiple commentators pointed out that David Guetta regularly climbs the charts despite being, like Kylie, 55 years old (and, unlike Kylie, profoundly personally embarrassing). This is admittedly the perfect anti-hypocrite gotcha – yet only serves to further perpetuate the thing. We already have ways to talk about artists who stage killer comebacks well into their career: veterans, icons, megastars. We’ve got playlists full of them, from Madonna to Janet. We don’t have to do this anymore! How many bangers must bang in vain?

Of course “Padam Padam” became a hit. It’s “Can’t Get You Out Of My Head” condensed and compressed, all euphemism and pretense stripped away alongside all unslutty clothes. The beat throbs with even more ruthless efficiency than the Fever hit. Eight syllables of lustful la-la-la become four of panting Piaf. Kylie elaborates upon her 2001 title, cooing to her conquest-to-be that “I’ll be in your head all weekend” – as if the fated forever limit of infatuation is exactly three (3) days. Crucially, all of this is played completely seriously – as if one weekend of feeling post-hookup dickmatized ranks with the deepest, most heightened emotions of all time. How could it not be a hit?

All is proceeding according to plan. Kylie spent a few years doing genre tourism: on 2018’s Golden with the kind of country music that can only be made by someone not actually from the American South, then on 2020’s DISCO with disco of the extremely literal variety. They were fine and occasionally more than fine, but after five years and many, many looped padams I hope we can all (angry people in my inbox included) agree that these albums were not the pinnacle of Kylie’s career. Kylie certainly thought she had pinnacles ahead of her; Tension is very clearly the work of an artist – and her newish label, BMG – deliberately trying for hits.

How do I know this? Because she hired hitmakers. “Padam Padam” was written by Norwegian songwriter Ina Wroldsen, best known for Calvin Harris’ “How Deep Is Your Love.” The song wasn’t originally meant for Kylie; Wroldsen thought maybe it could be something for Rita Ora, or perhaps some country’s Eurovision track. (It’s not not a Eurovision track.) The titular “padam padam” was Wroldsen’s idea, and it’s not the first time she’s managed to infuse longing feeling into nonsense syllables – check out Jax Jones’ “Breathe.” She’s done this a lot, in other words, and acknowledged that to The Independent via the most modest of metaphors: “Sometimes I get a little herring, sometimes I get a really good salmon. This was a salmon.”

Minogue has co-writing credits for much of the album, but almost every track started life much like this: songwriting-camp chum flung into the pop waters by dozens of workmanlike songwriters, on behalf of hundreds of UK/US chart aspirants, noteworthy and not. They also include frequent Little Mix collaborator Camille Purcell, perpetually bubbling-under (and, I’m told, genuinely hardworking) pop duo Loote, and the hilariously named songwriting team Biffco, responsible for untold pop singles including a little ditty called “Love At First Sight.” I’ll let someone more deranged than me tally up their collective hits, but it’s well into the hundreds – implying that, for every indelible smash, there’s a graveyard beneath it of dogshit songs. And the surest proof that Kylie still has it – and always had it – is that, in 2023, she still commands enough clout that she got none of the dogshit. Kylie got the salmon.

“One More Time” and “Vegas High” are veritable time capsules of 2015 and 2011 dancepop, respectively (you can sort of hear the echoes of Katy Perry’s “Firework” staccatos in the latter). “Hands” drops a timely Barbie shoutout into its sassy spoken-word chorus. The ballroom-inspired “10 Out Of 10” comes toward the end, wrapping the album up with the only music criticism many listeners desire: “Body, 10, touch, 10, energy, 10 – 10 out of 10.”

“10 Out Of 10” has another distinction: being a song on a Kylie Minogue album that’s nevertheless credited as “featuring Kylie Minogue.” (Oliver Heldens is the lead artist.) That’s the risk with going this hard into songwriting-camp material: We easily could have gotten an album with lots of hooks, lots of confidence, but not a lot of Kylie. The remarkable thing about Tension is how, with few exceptions, that doesn’t happen. Strewn throughout the album are little reminders that yes, these are specifically Kylie songs. “Green Light” drops a quick “Spinning Around” nod (and I’d be remiss not to mention the full-on sax solo), and among the delightfully stoopid lyrics of “Tension,” Kylie lets loose with the totally unironic, but again kinda great namedrop “Call me Kylie-lie-lie, don’t imitate-tate-tate.”

But those are the little things. Kylie’s gift isn’t so much being a singular, vocally fixed singer, but in her ability to morph into exactly what the song needs: to disappear into the feelings, and in doing so heighten them. Despite the flagrant silliness of “Tension”‘s lyrics (seriously, look them up, they’re probably goofier than whatever you heard), the song does create genuine tension and release – because of the drop, yes, but also because of Kylie’s vocal. She sings the pre-chorus as an almost impossibly eager flirtation, wide eyes and glazed-over smile, with a cooed refrain that sounds like pleasure distilled into four notes. “One More Time” is not a particularly great song, but Kylie’s lascivious breathe-singing and little whoop at the end of the chorus does so much more than the material calls from. Surefire club bait “Padam Padam” would nevertheless be lesser without Kylie’s pleading vocal, the way it swoops up and shudders on the word “heart.”

Kylie brings something more ineffable to Tension, too. This comes out best on the midtempo tracks and ballads: the ABBA-esque “Story”; the almost Jim Steinman-like intro to “Things I Do For Love”; or the album’s second track and freely offered heart, “Hold On To Now.” Like “Padam Padam,” the song is the surest of bets: an arpeggiated, shimmering crescendo of a pop tune about making it through hardship, one instant after another. Top-shelf material, in other words; “Hold On To Now” would be a near-perfect eleventh-hour album track in anyone’s hands. On paper, that is. But tracks like these only work if you believe them: whether you’re convinced in your heart that the person assuring you that you’ll survive has themselves survived, has felt the things you have felt, and commands enough force to pull you through.

Kylie has this, as her diehard fans know, and she imbues “Hold On To Now” with her decades of experience, a voice that trades technical firepower for earnestness, and a benevolent, embracing presence. Call it confirmation bias – would we be saying this if “Hold On To Now” did end up as, like, an Anne-Marie album track? – or call it parasocial projection onto a pop star who might be thinking any number of things, perhaps related to having absurd amounts of money. But those who know, know. It’s undeniable. It’s gravitas. It’s Kylie.

POP TEN

CLOSING TIME