KATSEYE is one of the most fascinating groups in pop right now, but that’s not necessarily because of their music. I’m slowly becoming convinced they are less an actual girl group than a 24-month sociological study conducted by Harvard: what happens when a handful of talented, beautiful individuals are perpetually donned in Y2K trinkets and minimal clothing while performing hyper-produced, algorithmic music for an audience of tweenage girls? The jury is still out, but the results are not trending positive.
I don’t blame the members themselves so much as the corporate machinery propping them up. These women possess clear talent and potential, but HYBE UMG and Geffen Records seem almost viciously eager to squander it. Imagine spending over a year in a hellish, televised competitive bootcamp, only to be awarded the dubious prize of chanting about zucchinis and emojis mid-twerk to an audience of 12-year-olds.
The Search for Identity
What has been lacking from KATSEYE’s discography, perhaps more than anything else, is a coherent identity. It is evident that the group—or, more accurately, their management—has been throwing ideas at the wall, hoping something would stick. For a group grounded in the personalities of their individual members—each of whom was voted into the group by an international audience—their music has shockingly little to do with any of them.
WILD, their third EP, promised to end this identity search and finally establish the group as a legitimate, focused force. In interviews prior to its release, the project was dubbed a “big departure, both sonically and aesthetically.” However, listening to the final product, “authentic” and “raw” are the last adjectives that come to mind. Tracks like “PINKY UP!” and “Internet Girl” feel like failed, less charmingly obnoxious imitations of their previous hit “Gnarly.” They are soulless anthems dominated by the repetition of nonsensical titles; songs that seem designed specifically for the TikTok algorithm.
A Commercialized Illusion
The rest of the EP, including tracks like “Animal” and “Bel Air,” feels paint-by-numbers, lacking the distinct personality required to elevate them above standard pop fare. Even when the group’s vocalists are allowed to shine, the production often feels like a collection of discarded demos rather than a cohesive artistic statement.
I’m starting to wonder if the lack of identity is the point. No one has a commercial incentive to let these artists become anything specific, as a defined self might narrow their addressable market. The more KATSEYE insists that it is finally showing us its “real” self, the more obvious it becomes that the real product may be the illusion of authenticity itself. The real money lies in 15-second clips of choreography set to thumping bass, and while I’d love to be proven wrong, it’s starting to feel like that is all the project is destined to be.
