Ariana Grande’s voice could never be called demure, not even in its lowest or breathiest registers, or in its manifestation as the endearingly eccentric latter half of the Nickelodeon duo “Sam & Cat.” Yet it wasn’t until the release of her third album, “Dangerous Woman,” in 2016 (well out of the way of that year’s election), that her music was permitted an explicit rating. The album’s first expletive belonged to the then-reigning queen of hip-hop, Nicki Minaj, on “Side to Side,” a song about the squishy pleasure of finding oneself temporarily hobbled after a round-the-clock sex romp. On “Everyday,” Ari again sang the praises of a marathon man, silkily, accompanied by the marathon hit- and baby-maker, the rapper Future. In the song’s music video, everyday couples got it in where they could, Dr. Seuss-style—on a car, on the bus, at the laundromat, by the watercooler—as Grande sang the memorable hook: “He giving me that good shit / That make me not quit.” There’s something special about the moment a pop star takes the opportunity to cuss in key.
Grande has largely escaped the narrative of sexual rebellion that has stuck to other pop-star alums of children’s programming, who have tended to sublimate adult desires into experiments in new genres, with tear-away wardrobes to match. Still, the announcement of Grande’s sixth studio album, and its title—“Positions”—was met with anticipation, and maybe a small bit of trepidation, over what an outright sexual album from this artist would look like—as if she hadn’t already donned a black latex bunny hood several albums prior. Perhaps caught up in the mood myself, I didn’t bother to consider other possible meanings of the title until the album’s lead single was released, on October 22nd. The music video for “Positions,” released on the same day, swings viewers into the White House for a fly’s-eye view of The Ari Administration. This provides Grande the opportunity to cosplay Jackie O in her way, with sexed-up sixties silhouettes courtesy of Gigi Hadid’s frequent stylist, Mimi Cuttrell (who also worked on the video for Grande’s “God Is a Woman”). The easy, midtempo track, about being a jack-of-all-trades lover—a spiritual descendant of Destiny’s Child’s “Cater 2 U,” if you will—is nestled, on the album, alongside thirteen other tracks that are similarly concerned with flights of fucking, among other things.
Wresting symbolic timeliness from new album releases has become an even headier pastime than usual during this period when all of our lives feel as if they’re on hold. Poptimists routinely clamor to crown the most emblematic quarantine releases, only to discard them weeks later in favor of the next, more perfect music of the moment. Whether that music was executed within the constraints of quarantine (as in “How I’m Feeling Now” or “folklore”) or simply released during the pandemic (“Fetch the Bolt Cutters,” “Future Nostalgia,” “Chromatica”) isn’t really the point. Against the flow of traffic, I’ll resist offering such a reading here, as “Positions” also resists such a mating of content and circumstance. Whereas Grande’s other recent albums—including the Grammy award-winning “Sweetener,” partially produced by Pharrell Williams; and “thank u, next,” recorded in mourning—ascended to the realm of high concept, “Positions” alights back on Earth, where it roams among modest and more comforting rhythms.
The architects behind some of Grande’s earwormier tracks and sturdiest LPs reunited in the making of this album: her besties and fellow-singer-songwriters Tayla Parx and Victoria Monét and the producer Tommy Brown, who has worked with Grande since her début album, “Yours Truly.” “Positions” contains, I think, the essence of Grande, maintaining a feeling of coziness even as it serves new dishes that delight in their vulgarity. The ninth track, “Nasty,” is punctuated with both the P-word (that’s “pussy,” people) and whistle tones, one of the singer’s favored flexes, which conjure the ingénue antics of Grande’s principal forebearer, Mariah Carey. The word “vibe” and its adjectival equivalent are too ubiquitous to mean much these days, but something similar does seem apt for this album’s brand of easy listening, which is characterized by pleasant beats that cede attention to lyrical come-hithers aplenty. The first track on the album, “Shut Up,” features a series of choral runs technically populated by one: Grande, of course. One of Grande’s underrated vocal habits is the triplet flow, a sung or spoken rhythm fitting three syllables in the space of one beat, inherited from trap music, which, here, she bends to the whims of mood and genre, from bratty (“34+35,” you do the math) to jazzy (“love language”). “Motive,” with its kiss of house, would have done just fine without the intrusion of the singer Doja Cat, whose tributes to the dance floor are better enjoyed elsewhere.
Like some—but not all—of her celebrity peers, Grande has weighed in publicly on the overlapping crises of the past year, in acts of protest and in online messages, with special attention to the looming deadline of Tuesday’s election. But given the surplus of misguided quasi-protest music released in the past months, I am thankful that these admirable messages were reserved for their proper venues. That “Positions” eschews a higher calling—political or aesthetic—may disappoint some listeners, whereas others may also find it something of a relief to listen to an album that aspires to please and nothing more. Of all the things sex can be, for the consenting parties involved, it can, least and best of all, be uncomplicatedly good—not unlike pop.
