Slayyyter Is Ready To Be Crowned the New Pop-Girl

2023 was either the best or the worst year for Slayyyter who had just released her second studio album “STARFUCKER,” a 36-minute odyssey of ’80s electronic and synth-pop. It was her first taste of poking at the mainstream; however, she was dissatisfied with the album’s underperformance. What followed was a “weird period” of career limbo; with her label contract with FADER at an end, she began grappling with a lingering depression, bringing her to consider retiring from the music industry altogether. In a last-ditch effort to outrun the burnout, she retreated from the artifice of Los Angeles and returned to the source: the humid, neon-streaked grit of St. Louis, Missouri–the origins of her brand of Tumblr-esque Y2K hedonism–trading in the Hollywood femme fatale for the industrial chaos that first made her a cult icon. There, she began work on what would become her most vile body of work. 

“Wor$t Girl In America” is the result of being born from the ashes of near-retirement. This is Slayyyter fully realized, letting you into her torrid world of indie-sleaze and unapologetic trashiness. A jagged departure from the glossy convertible synths of “STARFUCKER,” her third studio album is the 4:00 a.m. walk home from a house party masked with smudged makeup to conceal the profound isolation of a party girl.What she describes as “iPod music” functions as a gaze backward to the tunes she replayed as a teenager, a perfect embodiment of the life she lived in St. Louis—the girl who walked home with smudged makeup. In that sense, her iPod is like a piece of emotional shrapnel, a sacred relic of this record that alone carries her teenage angst and optimism. Across the 14 tracks, the chaos with an undercurrent of vulnerability that reinforces not only her pathos, but also her humanity. 

Like industry peer Charli xcx and her 2024 breakout album “Brat,” Slayyyter has found her footing, taking a page out of the handbook of transparency. Her “worst girl” moniker feels lived in and dangerously honest. In a world where social media is hyper-curated and polished, both artists realized the most subversive thing a pop star can do is be unpolished. Indie-sleaze was hailed during the late 2000s, since it acted as a counter-culture and a chance to be authentically candid–in other words, the “F-you” attitude. Slayyyter and Charli are both seasoned generals of this aesthetic and survivors of an industry who tried to iron out their edges. The current general landscape is craving something raw and messy, which is why it’s so easy to connect to these particular artists who openly fan their wounds on electronic sounds–a genre that is historically revered for being intensely and viscerally cathartic.

So, the hedonism here isn’t glamorous (if it wasn’t obvious enough); it’s desperate and delicious. The same can be said for the unhinged, grimy production. It’s a 43-minute fever dream dripped in Tumblr-era nostalgia, trading professional-grade level pop for “recession-core.” Her sonic palettes are vast but speak to the music she was listening to as a teenager, the blown-out bass, 64kps MP3 textures and the kind of industrial grit you can only find in an underground basement that’s seen too many parties. Thanks to a large range of producers (Valley Girl, Austin Corona, Wyatt Bernard), including Slayyyter herself, these songs feel like they’ve been ripped straight from her iPod–spanning electropop, techno, punk, rap and hip-hop. 

The moment you press play on “Wor$t Girl in America,” it comes swinging out the gate with “DANCE…” It is a calculated, high-velocity introduction that functions as the record’s spiritual threshold. The track is intended as the ultimate catharsis according to Slayyyter, setting the tone and sound for the entire project. Its 55-second intro builds a relentless, anxious energy into a filthy beat drop that echoes LCD Soundsystem’s aggressive electro-clash. It’s clear Slayyyter’s dance floor here is a darker space–it may co-exist in the same vein as “Brat” and Addison Rae’s “Addison,” but it’s much more concerned with reclaiming the strobe lights of the American Midwest. Her party is a confrontation to revisit all her rights and wrongs, exuding that “F-you” attitude along the way. “I kinda hate you, but/It doesn’t matter, let me dance/You seem so miserable/It doesn’t matter, let me dance,” is the unabashed invitation to join her in the sleazy basement and dance your sorrows away (literally). 

The energy doesn’t let up. “Wor$t Girl in America” is front-loaded with singles–“DANCE…” was only just the beginning of her club-ready salvation. Lead single and preceding song (and possibly my favorite song on here) of the latter “BEAT UP CHANEL$” was our first taste of this resurrected version of Slayyyter on Aug. 1 last year. She comes in boasting the hedonistic excesses, “Sex, money, drugs, chains on my chest, vintage Celine/Diamond grills, champagne bottles, swagger I bleed.” The attitude is all the more indicative of her indie-sleaze impulses, “I wanna dye my hair every pretty shade of pastel/I want nasty afterparties, banged up at the motel.” Behind all this are haunted, dirty synths surging in the pre-chorus, launching the listener into a euphoric ambiance with Slayyyter’s wistful vocals. The second time around is a dose of pure adrenaline. She’s simultaneously braggy, melancholic, and ambitious–her swagger is undeniable fitting into the ‘worst girl in America’ archetype effortlessly. 

For the next few tracks, the record deepens into a sonic assault with the industrial shedder “CANNIBALISM!” and glitchy “OLD TECHNOLOGY.” The former carnal track comes in hot on the surf-rock basslines as she wails alongside the blaring guitars like a spooky siren song calling out to her toxic-lover: “Tell me you’re needing it, think about me all the time/Tell you I’m needing it, if I don’t have you, I’ll die,” she sings on the chorus. Her intonation evokes a Britney Spears imitation while living in the same realm as The Cramps. It leads seamlessly into the cutthroat, outlandish landscape of “OLD TECHNOLOGY,” a sonic personification of her “iPod Music” ethos. It’s distorted glitches and digital stuttering while Slayyyter is declaring herself as the ‘blueprint’ and battling addiction and self-destruction, remaining true to her artistry and identity. The listener is forced to confront the friction between her analog past in St. Louis and her digital future. These two tracks are two sides of the same coin mirroring her current psyche: One a primal scream for romantic hunger and survival and the other a nostalgic glitch in the machine, proving her ‘outdated influences’ have enough bite to draw blood in 2026. 

At the beating heart of “Wor$t Girl In America” lies the high-octane psychosis of “CRANK” in what possibly is her most depraved single out of the bunch and to date. Here, she is at full throttle, colliding between electro-clash, nu-metal, and hip-hop as the ceiling collapses. This track especially is meant to be played at max volume–it’s roaring snarls tear through speakers with a visceral, ragged edge. Scattered with the most memorable lyrical moments of the year, like “I get so gay off that tequila” and “He wanna f**k Slayyter, Richard, we should link later.” She’s known to play with her cheeky, characteristic pen game and beyond-bonkers production. It’s loud, it’s ugly, and it is intentionally overwhelming. It perfectly encapsulates everything to love about Slayyyter. 

The descent into the ‘Worst Girl’ mythos accelerates with a three-track run that captures the frantic, emotional highs: “GAS STATION,” “YES GODDD” and “UNKNOWN LOVERZ.” On the sorrowful “GAS STATION” Slayyyter utilizes anxious synth lines that mimic the fluorescent hums of Crystal Castles. This is one of the more emotional cuts on the record–it receives its blow in the form of a dysfunctional relationship, recalling a time when her father left her “all alone at the gas station.” If there’s one thing the artist is good at, it’s drawing influence and curating specific sounds that directly correspond to her sensibilities. She releases tension in “YES GODDD,” a complete explosion into mass hysteria, leaning into the Bloghouse revival. She uses her voice here as a persuasive weapon, chopping syllables into rhythmic stabs complete with screams, shouts, and roars. It eventually bleeds in the ethereal “UNKNOWN LOVERS,” a dreamy synth-pop ride through a hazy, bit-crushed atmosphere where the production reaches its most celestial point–a rare moment where Slayyyter brings you down to earth for perhaps the most tender number on this record. Her vocals are also much more breathy and soft, utilizing Lana Del Rey’s “Lizzy Grant” days’ girlish falsettos. Sitting in the middle of the tracklist, it’s a nice change of pace amid the pandemonium surrounding it. As the final note fades, the listener is left with the impression that the ‘Worst Girl’ isn’t a figure of chaos but a curator of a very specific, broken kind of magic.

The mid-album stretch here pivots from industrial noise to a more pointed emotional focus on “OLD FLING$” and the cheekily titled “I’M ACTUALLY KINDA FAMOUS.” An ode to blowing off exes at DJ sets, “OLD FLING$” is what she describes as a “bitchy” feeling seeing her partner’s old flings’ playing with the irony of the “girls girl.” With lines like “I see you seethin’, he’s not leavin’ here with you tonight,” she leans into the unpolished realities of romance. This friction immediately transitions on the bratty “IM ACTUALLY KINDA FAMOUS,” a meta-commentary on the bizarre experience of being an internet icon. The title may be misleading, but Slayyyter frequently writes off the idea of being ‘famous’ for its superficiality and the darker side to fame. It’s a glimpse inside her psyche during her “STARFUCKER” era which she has said to be a “bridge” between both records. It’s proof she’s not just a one-dimensional Midwest party-girl. 

We reach the end of “Wor$t Girl in America” with the religious sermon “*PRAYER*.” It’s a moment of ambient stillness and a brief, sacred breath before the record’s emotional centerpiece “BRITTANY MURPHY,” the devastating final track. A homage to the actress, it parallels Slayyyter’s own ‘weird period,’ exploring the fragility of womanhood while being caught in the gears of the industry that often celebrates the breakdown over the breakthrough. The production here is juxtaposed with sprinting synth-pop rhythms that mask her grim mental state. She feels distanced even as her vocals are encased behind intense distortion, abandoning the protective vocal effect in its final seconds like an emotional surrender and unmasking of the ‘Worst Girl.’ 

“Wor$t Girl in America” is trashy, alluring and outright unapologetic. It hits the core in all the right places even when it’s least expected and is an excellent body of work that is worth the same commendation of her industry peers. She is proof the most beautiful thing an artist can do is be a little bit vile. After coming off a packed Coachella set a month ago–often seen as a rite of passage for new and upcoming artists–it’s safe to say the people have decided she is the Khia Asylum’s newest escapee and she is here to stay. “–Summer” may be thrown around loosely these days, but it’s cemented in place that it’s a “Wor$t Girl in America Summer” and listeners will be hammering through “CRANK” or rather “crank it!” 

Listen to “Wor$t Girl In America” here