Nicki Minaj—Roman Reloaded

Nicki Minaj should be ashamed of herself.

For a woman who prides herself on individuality—I can only assume that’s the explanation for her confection-nightmare fashion sense—she makes little effort to stand out on her second album, Pink Friday: Roman Reloaded. Scratch that: she makes no effort whatsoever. This record is so desperate to cash in on pop trends it’s embarrassing.

There’s pseudo-dubstep: “Whip It,” “Pound the Alarm.” There’s trap-hop swagger: “Come on a Cone,” “I Am Your Leader.” There are synth anthems: “Beautiful Sinner,” “Automatic.” There’s even a reggae-pop track featuring Beenie Man, who hasn’t been relevant in a decade. But far and away the most inexcusable transgression is the abortive lead single, “Starships.”

In the space of one song, Minaj accomplishes the impossible feat of ripping off Maroon 5, Black Eyed Peas, Britney Spears, Taio Cruz, Lady Gaga, Katy Perry and LMFAO—WTF? It’s as if someone took the most detestable qualities from each of those artists—the manufactured enthusiasm, the syrupy, synthetic production, the monotonous dance-floor drone—and set them to lyrics that were mind-numbingly stupid. “Starships” is a song that represents the tepid, cloying, shameless recycling of pop at its worst, the kind of song that would play on repeat at Shooters in hell (or real life). Whatever credibility Minaj earned from her standout cameo on Kanye’s “Monster” is immediately overshadowed by this ghastly abomination. I am literally sickened.

And speaking of “Monster”—the multiple-voice thing was cool there, and still novel. Minaj has since proved that adopting a number of vocal styles is the only trick up her sleeve, and that wore thin before her first album came out. At this point it’s just annoying and tiring; it’s like she’s play-acting all the characters in an amateur radio drama that never ends. That’s called a gimmick, dear, and it’s a poor premise on which to base your entire career.