Kesha ‘Period’ Review: A Symbolic Punctuation Mark That Feels More Like a Dead End

The title of Kesha’s sixth studio album—her first to be released independently—suggests that the singer is pressing a symbolic reset button. Throughout Period, though, Kesha seems torn between resurrecting the unruly spark of her early work or continuing in a more introspective, experimental direction, a la 2023’s Gag Order. The results are, at times, perfectly listenable, but the sheer amount of visible flop sweat pouring from these 11 tracks is nothing short of distracting. Rather than sounding liberated on Period, Kesha feels caught between what the kids now call “eras,” unsure of which bit to fully commit to.

Nowhere is that hesitancy more evident than in the album’s initial stretch, starting with the pointedly titled “Freedom,” the first two-and-a-half minutes of which are composed of a grandiose organ intro. The track stakes out clear territory in respectable art-pop—and, if one chooses to overlook that Kesha’s last few albums have also waded into this terrain, it sets the stage well as an outlet for unpolished creativity. But then the song makes a hard swerve into late-2000s club music that feels far more calculated than it does inspired.

The next few tracks, including the Euro-pop “Joyride” and the synth-laced power ballad “Delusional,” strain to channel the chaotic joy of Animal—no matter how many kooky accordions and booming bass drops are thrown in to keep things moving. Kesha recycles outdated internet slang into awkward empowerment slogans (“Get in, loser” and “You want kids?/Well, I am Mother”) and leans heavily on some of her more grating vocal habits. She even fills the post-chorus of the country-cum-bubblegum-pop “Yippee-Ki-Yay” with a flood of nonsense syllables, delivered with the graceless force of an overly Auto-Tuned buzz saw.

What’s missing here—even on other high-energy cuts like the over-produced “The One,” which plays like something Katy Perry might have released a decade ago, or the more tolerable “Red Flag”—is that spark or X-factor that would make these songs actually fun. The only time Period truly delivers on this unapologetically over-the-top front is “Boy Crazy,” a jolt of lovestruck mayhem that finally strikes the right balance between bratty and buoyant. It’s the rare moment on the album when the sonic pandemonium feels effortless rather than labored.

And when things slow down, the momentum stalls out completely. “Love Forever” is a limp stab at retro disco, bogged down by off-putting vocoder effects that add more clutter than character. Elsewhere, “Glow” and “Too Hard” are the sort of midtempo mush that someone as theatrically unhinged as Kesha is unable to convincingly sell. These tracks feel less like intentional detours and more like dead ends, especially considering the tonal whiplash caused by Period’s erratic sequencing. This results in a listening experience that, while never boring thanks to its scattered impulses, rarely lands with the clarity or conviction that has defined Kesha’s best work.