In many ways, Selena Gomez is a textbook pop star: she has been trained for celebrity and stardom since childhood, has had a slew of mega-famous boyfriends and personal drama that has kept her in the public eye and the tabloids, is beautiful in a way normal people are not, and despite not possessing spectacular vocal ability, has a talented team producing amazing, trendy pop music behind the scenes of her career that expertly minimizes flaws and maximizes strengths. We got a glimpse of it in her first solo, non-Hollywood Records release, Revival, back in 2015, and now we finally get Rare.
Rare feels different, not just because fans have been teased with Selena Gomez collabs and feats for years, but because the singer’s statements regarding gossip-heavy story lines involving her love life, re: Justin Bieber, mostly, but also The Weeknd’s Abel Tesfaye, feel more personal than ever. There’s no hidden message or subtext behind songs like “Lose You to Love Me,” or “Look at Her Now,” and even in “Dance Again” and “Rare,” she’s not shy, lyrically, about claiming her own “narrative,” a casual word she tossed out on Jimmy Fallon, but a loaded buzz-word among her and fellow entertainer/close friend Taylor Swift. But they’re also a genuinely skillful set of hooks, programmed to keep the ear worms coming. It’s the album we were going to get from Camila Cabello’s Romance, until it most definitely wasn’t, and done only the way Gomez can do. As Chris DeVille wrote in his The Week in Pop column for January 9, it is the song writers and producers like veterans Justin Tranter and Julia Michaels (even Bebe Rexha has a cred on “Crowded Room,” though I was disappointed not to see a single mention of Max Martin — you can’t win them all) who are the heroes here, with the “writing and production […] smartly catered to the subtle, breathy vocals that best serve her voice.”
Musically, it doesn’t feel as thematically on point as the lyrics, but the tension and slower pacing of the majority of the songs (“Vulnerable,” for example, and “People You Know,” the song nobody seems to like but me) make up for some of the weaker tracks like “Ring” and “Kinda Crazy.” The Target-exclusive edition comes with an additional five tracks, mainly all the feats and collabs mentioned earlier released over the last few years in the run-up to Rare, like “It Ain’t Me” and “Bad Liar.” They’re inessential and don’t belong on the album proper, so it feels right to tack them on optionally as bonus content; the “narrative” feels here and now, while the older tracks feel like shed skin, a form and size that no longer fit. Instead, Rare is both a telling and re-telling, a study and a re-examination, of fresh pain on old wounds. Scabs over scar tissue. It feels honest, but most importantly for a pop star like Gomez who is playing in the Grande leagues, it feels authentic, a collection of hits you can bop to and empathize with.
Rare is a strong opening to 2020 and it’s doubly appreciated to have it during a week and month that usually sees very little consequential work being released in any genre. And like any really good pop album, it should have the strength to at least get us through, what? The rest of this month?