Since My Everything, Ariana’s shown us that she’s no one-trick pony(tail), having ventured through EDM (“Break Free”), bouncy R&B (“Break Your Heart Right Back”), and pure pop (“One Last Time”), but what felt lacking from her sophomore album was the sonic cohesion that embodied her debut, Yours Truly. Unfortunately, while her debut album succeeded in that regard, it suffered from her lack of maturity as a person and as an artist in the music industry (having hopped straight off the ‘Nickelodeon’ boat.) In this, it’s learning from shortcomings that allows artists—and like, people in general—to grow, and Ariana’s shown her growth in Dangerous Woman.
“Moonlight,” the starting track (and almost the album’s title) distinguishes itself with the bare clarity of Ariana’s voice surrounded by a plethora of vibrant strings. It’s a beautiful intro to the album that immerses the listener into the album’s atmosphere through the gentle plucking and bowed strings.
However, it’s not until the first guitar strike of “Dangerous Woman” that the atmosphere of Dangerous Woman is properly established. With the track’s prominent guitar and the vocoder’s appearance in its last chorus, Ariana’s already venturing into previously uncharted territory. Also making its first appearance here, the word “dangerous” itself becomes a motif throughout the album (you’ll see what I mean.)
Following these two intro tracks comes two immaculate promotional singles that I’ve already ranted about in some depth: “Be Alright” and “Into You.” The former track’s bounce and light marimba blends the airy atmosphere of “Moonlight” with the unfaltering rhythm of the title track. “Into You”—already cemented as one of the best songs of the year…in my opinion—designates itself as the most EDM-leaning track of the bunch, and it’s truly flawless in its execution. Appearing immediately after the featherweight “Be Alright,” its relentless synths become even grander—and that show-stopping build up at the bridge that explodes into the final choruses? Literally breathtaking. (Like, I actually lost my breath listening to her live performance.)
“Side to Side” bops with a Caribbean flair, marking her third collaboration with Nicki Minaj (a.k.a. it’s sure to be a fan favourite) and follows up with fellow ‘Young Money’ labelmate Lil Wayne in “Let Me Love You.” Meshing the R&B bass to electronic pulsating of Ariana’s “let me lo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-ove you” to the distant samples of shouts and yelps forms the immersive and sensual ambience.
She doesn’t stay in one lane for too long, though. As the slow burning track flickers out, “Greedy” comes out with a belt (insert BDSM-related joke here): “Greedy! You know that I’m greedy for love!” It’s a gear shift to more upbeat R&B and never loses its flamboyant flair. Also, that key change at the end saves it from replay monotony.
“Leave Me Lonely” and “Everyday” both continue to mold the thematic concepts of sex, love, and danger. Macy Gray‘s husky vocals seamlessly bind to Ariana’s as they rotate choruses, “Dangerous love / You’re no good for me, darling.” Future lends a handful of vocals in the subsequent trap-inflected track, though it does suffer from a lack of pre-chorus build up. One question: is she singing “He givin’ me that good sh*t that make me not quit” or “He givin’ me that good sh*t nut quick“? Just food for thought. (I’m personally hoping for the second option.)
In “Sometimes,” bare guitars become coated in hazy synths that mould into the thick layered vocals as she sings “But it’s hard to breathe when you’re touching me there / Hard to breathe when you’re kissing me there / Hard to breathe when you’re not here” into the last chorus, evoking a sense of fitting claustrophobia in the track.
The jazzy carelessness of “I Don’t Care” smoothly interludes to the album’s final offerings, giving a time for us to breathe before the one-two punch of “Bad Decisions” and “Touch It”—two massively accessible pop songs that keep the momentum of the album swinging until the final stretch. The initial dizzying haze of “Knew Better / Forever Boy” that fades into the hypnotic crooning of the two-part track’s latter half, smoothly brings us to the album’s closer. An unarguably vivid track, “Thinking Bout You” finds Ariana clutching onto a long gone memory and ends the entire album with a conjuring of warm nostalgia.
Every move made for the album—be it thoroughly calculated or not—complements the entire package. The tracklist, perfectly balancing out the immediately striking tracks with the slow burners, avoids the common front-heavy pop album structure. The balance also provides something I like to call “aural palette cleansing” for the listener, which is the spreading of more explosive tracks so there is no over-saturation of heavy songs. It further accentuates the album’s sonic and lyrical versatility as it smoothly glides between genres, all revolving around the risqué central themes of danger and sex. The album’s cover—Ariana clad in a BDSM-esque bunny headpiece—tangibly represents these themes she’s presented in the album.
In the music, the production is more refined and the lyrics more explicit (or explicitly insinuative; see “Thinking Bout You”: “Had my eyes rollin’ back / had me archin’ my back“), and every track sonically and lyrically contributing to the album’s thematic imagery. Showing vocal restraint where she could easily belt out verses (e.g. “Let Me Love You”) is a pure display of intelligence, and dipping into deeper instrumentation without reaching too far into other genres is the controlled versatility that allows the album to function cohesively. Despite all this praise and acclaim I’ve given it, I don’t believe Dangerous Woman is perfect, as there are tracks that seem to bog it down (“Leave Me Lonely” and “Knew Better / Forever Boy”) and certain tracks aren’t as strong on their own rather than in the tracklist (“I Don’t Care” and “Everyday”), but it excels as a full package.
Dangerous Woman feels like a natural progression—both in the tracks and Ariana’s career. Borne of the ‘Child TV Star Path,’ it’s a music career birth that is both a blessing and a curse. She’s blessed to start with a fan base, but it’s a very young fan base. It makes it difficult to venture into more sexual themes, in risk of alienating the existing fan base, but this also makes it difficult to capture a wider audience. Despite all this, she’s been able to bypass all this because 1. her unique voice allows her to take a place in pop music that hasn’t been filled for a while (I know Mariah‘s still young and a living legend but still…), and 2. she’s grown with her audience. With each album, it’s been a new side that she shows: from her more innocent debut, the adventurous sophomore album, and now, the dangerous (BDSM-ly dangerous) third album.
Even with her ponytail tightly held high in the album art, she’s let her hair down in a figurative sense; the entire process feels less controlled by expectations of the general public, and it’s liberating to see this growth and direction. Even among the drama (e.g. donut licking!), something in her charisma, gay rights and feminist activism, or possibly even just her sheer talent, has allowed her to garner a huge following and even turn naysayers around.
Perhaps “Bad Decisions” puts it best: “Ain’t you ever seen a princess be a bad b*tch?” It’s a statement that shows her self-awareness; a statement in which she asks a rhetorical question to those who condemn her for not being a one-dimensional woman. (She can be both a princess and a bad b*tch, simultaneously. Pretty crazy, huh?) But she’s also quantifying up her own prior statement: “[Speaking on why she changed her album name to ‘Dangerous Woman’] I feel like my personal growth is reflected in the sound. I’m really proud of it… To me, a dangerous woman is someone who’s not afraid to take a stand, be herself and to be honest.” And it’s a completely correct statement. She’s no doubt a Dangerous Woman™, and everyone better be aware and beware.
CHATQYER 
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