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In her Man’s Best Friend interview with Zane Lowe, there comes a point where Sabrina Carpenter says that people don’t have to listen to an album if they’re not ready, declaring, “Don’t click play.” Perhaps unwitting proof that Ava Max has a more subliminal influence on “the culture” than one might think (even though many of the cuntier gays would insist otherwise). Or perhaps it’s that she has her finger on the pulse of language more than people give her credit for. In any case, her third album, Don’t Click Play, has been a long time (by pop music industry standards) in the making, with her last record, Diamonds & Dancefloors, being released at the beginning of 2023.
Although the critical reception was “warm” enough, the album didn’t seem to “take” with listeners as much as her debut, 2020’s Heaven & Hell. This, in some sense, applying to the long-standing notion that Max never carved out a “distinct” enough identity (apart from the haircut) for fans to glom onto. Instead, the frequent Lady Gaga comparisons only added to the idea that she wasn’t “her own” pop star. Max addresses this and many other recent dramas in her life on the album. Not least of which is the fact that, per Rolling Stone, “The music on Don’t Click Play was…born from heartbreak. For the first time in her career, Max cut ties with Cirkut, her former boyfriend and long-time producer, and Madison Love, her ex-co-writer and former friend. (Both were staples across Heaven & Hell and Diamonds & Dancefloors.)” Yes, it’s just the sort of juicy drama that gays can get on board with.
However, Max is sure to set the tone for her “I will survive” mode immediately by making the title track the first song to commence the record. And, naturally, it’s a dancefloor-ready number, courtesy of production by Pink Slip (who recently worked with Kesha on songs from Period) and Inverness (who recently worked with JADE on songs from That’s Showbiz Baby). Opening with an almost “Tom’s Diner”-esque “Dum-dum, da-da, dum-dum, da-da,” Max quickly assures her listeners, “Whole world wanna talk that talk, but I’m so unbothered.” It’s a song that also reinforces her statement to Rolling Stone, “I made this album because I wanted to prove that I can make the album of my dreams without my last collaborators.” As a matter of fact, despite some of the harsher reviews, Don’t Click Play offers some of Max’s most memorable bangers yet. Perhaps because they’re among her cheekiest, most notably the part where she addresses the internet commentary about her with, “She a sample-singing Gaga imitation… But I’m lovin’ myself even if you hate it” (that “lovin’ myself” line referring to a song that serves as track three the album).
As for the “why” behind the name of the record, it makes itself known in the lyrics, “If you didn’t come to dance/DJ, don’t click that,” followed by “‘Cause you gon’ like it, love it, wanna play it twice/DJ, don’t click that, replay, don’t hit that/‘Cause you gon’ like it, love it, want it every night.” In other words, she’s confident her music has such a “once you pop, you can’t stop” effect that it’s certain to make any listener become an “addict.”
To further clarify the meaning behind the title, and that it wasn’t actually her plan to “go all Garbo” ahead of the album’s release, she also told Rolling Stone, “…because everyone is so confused about the title, it doesn’t mean ‘don’t click play.’ It means ‘don’t click play if you don’t want to, because…this album was made to prove to myself that I could do it on my own.’ I think at the end of the day, sometimes you just have to do things that feed your soul.”
And something that definitely doesn’t feed the soul is being in an oppressive relationship with an overly controlling person. “How Can I Dance” instantly captures that feeling with the demand, “How can I dance when you tie my hands up?/How can I lo-lo-lo-love if you keep me in chains?” The answer, of course, is that she can’t. With any remaining shred of love also turning to hate as she grows to resent the man that treats her like “property.” Thus, telling him, “Think you can lock me, baby? I’m not a bird in your cage.” She then takes more than slight inspiration from Alice Deejay when she says, “I’m better off dancing alone.” A realization she had to come to after being treated so poorly by her ex(es). The additional interpretation of “How Can I Dance” applies to how the music industry has treated Max from the start of her career, telling her who to be and how to act—which has only stymied rather than facilitated her growth.
So it is that she’s led to the conclusion on the next song that self-love is the best medicine. As the second single from the record, “Lovin Myself” (which, title-wise, sounds like “Feeling Myself”) deviated from the more “80s power ballad” sound of “Lost Your Faith” (the first official single from Don’t Click Play), providing yet another “I will survive” type message soundtracked to a danceable rhythm. It also marks the second time Max wields fire imagery (much like she does on the album cover itself) in her lyrics, having previously asked, “You wanna play with fire?” on “How Can I Dance” and now describing, “Woke up on fire, shining brighter.” As anyone would in the wake of having what can be called the “‘Flowers’ by Miley Cyrus” epiphany. Which is, of course, “I can love me better than you can.” Max is certainly of the same mind when she sings, “I don’t need nobody, I’m lovin’ myself/Tonight it’s all about me, yеah, it’s good for my health/And I know how to please mе, I don’t need no help/Nobody, nobody can lo-lo-love me like I’m lovin’ myself.”
Having achieved such a level of self-empowerment, it’s only natural that Max should follow that song with the braggadocious “Sucks to Be My Ex” (that means you, Cirkut). Beginning with the line, “Stilettos sharper than a knife, I’m in my villain era,” it reminds one of Taylor Swift’s (who was in her “villain era” with Reputation) opener on Midnights’ “Vigilante Shit,” “Draw the cat eye sharp enough to kill a man.” Max might be ready to do just that as she rises from the flames to pronounce, “What don’t kill you makes you hotter/Ooh, I’m livin’ proof/Now I’m wild and free and younger, blonder/Ooh, I look good, but boy, I feel bad for you/It must suck to be my ex/‘Cause after me, where do you go next?” The level of confidence in that question, if it is directly aimed at Cirkut, might have more bite if Don’t Click Play wasn’t Max’s worst-charting album to date, but, even so, it’s the perfect anthem for anyone who has just come out of a breakup and is looking to hit the town and paint it red.
And while “Wet, Hot American Dream” might aim for a painting the town red (, white and blue) vibe as well, it does land with something of a thud considering the current state of affairs in the U.S. Even so, if there’s anybody who understands the “American dream,” it’s Max, who saw both of her immigrant parents (originally from Albania) work three jobs each (without being able to speak English) to support their new life in Wisconsin, the state where Max was born. Later, she would come to understand a different facet of the dream by becoming a pop star—lending credence to the idea that, “no matter who you are” in the U.S., you can become whoever you want to be with nothing more than hard work and a bit of grit. Or so the tale goes. “Wet, Hot American Dream” isn’t about that, but rather, being something of a one-woman welcome wagon to a visitor on vacation as she declares, “You’re on vacation from out of town/I wanna put you in my pocket, let me show you around/So, don’t, don’t be shy/Show me yours and I’ll show you mine/You should know that I don’t kiss and tell/Tell me all your dirty secrets/All your fantasies/I wanna be your blue jean, white tee, wet, hot American dream.” With another kind of sound, it could easily be mistaken for a Lana Del Rey song.
But the 80s-centric instrumentation (which, at times, has tinges of Michael Sembello’s “Maniac”) is only further emphasized by the accompanying video, which has a “VHS aesthetic.” Not to mention the fact that Max seems to be existing in an alternate timeline where it’s okay to ignore the blatant cataclysms of the moment…almost as though it is the 1980s under the Reagan administration. In fact, in Max’s world (at least on this song), she appears to be living like a Republican, all baseball, hot dogs and watermelons as she plays up her “wetness” by getting hosed down in her various skimpy outfits, including her red bikini, which she wears while standing in front of a giant American flag (again, Lana Del Rey-core) while assuring, “I’m not like other cowgirls/Unless you want me to be/I wanna be your blue jean, white tee, wеt, hot American dream.” To which maybe the observer who saw her in this guise would say, “Blue jeans, white shirt/Walked into the room, you know you made my eyes burn.”
Max keeps the up-tempo rhythm going on “Take My Call,” opening it with the chant-like command, “La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la, call.” And if whoever she wants to call her won’t be the first to do it, she’ll have no sense of shame about being the one to call him, once more flexing her grandiloquence when she asserts, “Wherever you are, wherever you go/When you see my name,/I know you’re gonna take my call/No matter how far, if I wanna get close/When you see my namе, I know you’re gonna take my call.” Relishing the power she has over whoever this person is, that kind of hauteur disappears on “Know Somebody,” the track that kicks off the second half of the album. Which can best be described as the “neo-power ballad” portion of Don’t Click Play. Because, to get certain things off her chest, Max requires the appropriate level of sonic emotionalism to match her own.
And yes, it seems fairly apparent that “Know Somebody” is directed at both Cirkut and Madison Love, the friend and collaborator who broke one of the cardinal rules of “girl code.” So it is that Max laments, “You think you really know somebody/But all you really know is their name/You think it’s gonna last forever/You’re only just a pawn in the game/You let them in your life, back into the knife/They take away your love and then take your life/Just when you think you really know somebody.” In certain regards, its motif echoes Selena Gomez’s 2020 song, “People You Know,” during which she also bittersweetly muses, “We used to be close, but people can go/From people you know to people you don’t/And what hurts the most is people can go/From people you know to people you don’t.”
Max also serves a bit of Olivia Rodrigo on “deja vu” when she asks of her ex, “Do you still see me when you kiss her?/Convince yourself that’s what you need/You say I’m fully out the picture/But you still see mе in your dreams.” Or nightmares, if Max is doing something right/living up to her promise of having “stilettos sharper than a knife.”
Transitioning to the equally as emotional “Lost Your Faith,” it, too, explores the motif of a boyfriend who no longer exhibits the same fervor for her that he once did. To be sure, there’s something of Sabrina Carpenter’s “My Man on Willpower” in the track, with Carpenter also mourning the loss of the same romantic intensity her boo once showed for her (but, at present, “He fell in love with self-restraint and now it’s gettin’ out of hand/He used to be/Literally obsessed with me/I’m suddenly the least sought after girl in the land”). There even comes a point where Carpenter also touches on the religion metaphor of a relationship by saying, “My man’s forgotten his devotion/Where he’s gone, God only knows.” But God doesn’t appear to know much in “Lost Your Faith” either, with Max describing, “I used to have you on your knees all night [plenty of double meaning there, just as Carpenter would approve of]/But now, you never pray/And when you looked at me, you saw the light/But now, you’ve turned away/Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah [look out Leonard Cohen]/You used to hold me in a holy place/But now, you’ve lost your faith.” And, in turn, so has Max lost her faith in him—and in the entire relationship.
Regardless, it doesn’t stop her from insisting, “Fight for Me” on the next song of the same name. Even though it’s more about Max wanting the object of her affection to fight for her in a sexual sense (hence, the Pussycat Dolls-reminiscent beat, co-produced by Lindgren and Inverness). As in, “Shit boy, show me what you’re working with and really turn me out. Prove to me how much you care with your dick.” So it is that she sings, “Need your love comin’ at, comin’ at, comin’ at me [more innuendo]/Oh, I might just turn around, go and leave you on your knees [the “on your knees” imagery having also just appeared in “Lost Your Faith”]/So fight for me/Want your hands up and down me/You can’t live without me, let’s go, baby, fight for me/Before I walk out that door, boy, give me somethin’ more, fuckin’ go crazy.” The idea of Max asking him to “put up a fight” for her doesn’t just pertain to fighting to stay with her, but also to show his ability to “throw down” in the boudoir.
As for Max discussing that much-talked-about subject in pop songs by female artists—being neglected and/or taken for granted—it has shades of one of Madonna’s earliest tracks, “Think of Me,” during which she warns her own lover, “You better/Think of me/I know you want to, baby/Think of me/It won’t be long before you/Think of me/‘Cause I’ll be gone/And then you’ll think of me, oh yeah/You walk in and you see me cryin’/You apologize say you lost track of time/I’m not gonna cry anymore/You’re gonna lose me too if you don’t/Know what’s good for you.” So it is that both Madonna and Max just want someone who will show that they’ve got “Skin in the Game.” This track being a continuation of the sexual aura radiated on “Fight for Me,” with Max repurposing the expression to reflect the physical and emotional pull her relationship has over her—though mainly the former, as evidenced by the first verse, “Oh, baby, your tongue set a fire [the image of fire showing up yet again]/I was doomed when you kissed me in the kitchen/Your lips tasted like/Dark red wine and reckless decisions [a bit of a Taylor-esque lyrical flair].”
Then, er, comes the carnal description, “Satin sheets [“are very romantic,” as Madonna would say], Christian Dior/All our clothes fell down to the floor/Yeah, that night was two years ago/And I’m still sleepin’ in this bed we made/Of fuckin’ and fightin’ each day/I try to leave, but I just stay/‘Cause I’ve got/Skin in the game/You touch me and letting go just goes down the drain.” Here as well, Max channels Sabrina Carpenter, specifically on “We Almost Broke Up Again Last Night” (which also bears similarities to JADE’s “FUFN” on That’s Showbiz Baby).
But Max seems determined not to break up with this person thanks to her accursed skin in the game. Though it’s difficult for the listener not to want to play her the “World’s Smallest Violin” (a song, incidentally that was originally intended for Diamonds & Dancefloors in one of its earlier incarnations) for being such a masochist (à la Carrie Bradshaw with Big). Except that, in this particular song, Max is the one playing it, so to speak, for the man who keeps trying to come crawling back to her after treating her like shit. Refusing to accept his half-assed apologies (or “sugar talking,” as Carpenter would call it), all Max can say to them is, “Boy, this ain’t therapy/Don’t come here cryin’/Words don’t mean shit to mе/When it’s all lyin’/Sing your heartbreak symphony/Whilе I play the world’s smallest violin.”
Besides, it seems as though she’s already moved on by the next song, the grand finale of Don’t Click Play. Indeed, the video game-sounding opening to “Catch My Breath” that leads into another up-tempo, 80s dance-inspired sonic landscape is very grand (and frankly, could have easily worked as the song that plays while Thelma and Louise drive “over the edge”). What’s more, “Catch My Breath” clearly indicates that Max wanted to end the album on an ultra-upbeat note, one that finds her in the proverbial getaway car as she urges, “Get in the car, take me down to the boulevard/Shut up and drive [okay, Rihanna]/We can ride all through the night/Into the day, screaming my name/Like oh, ah-ah, oh-oh, ah-oh’/I feel the rush every time we kiss and we touch/I lose control, baby, keep your eyes on the road.”
But the only one keeping their eyes on it (de facto, the prize) with this album is Max, who illustrates just how committed she is to further cultivating her own signature sound with each new record. And even though, as usual, the reception (especially chart-wise) to Max’s work isn’t quite where it should be, she has undoubtedly proved what she set out to do with Don’t Click Play: remind everyone that she was always the talent behind the work—not any one producer or co-songwriter.
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Genna Rivieccio
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