Adéla, we’re assured, is the next cult big popstar, which means we must either adore her or start hating on her early, because thems the rules about cult faves. You either have to get your standom in early to say ‘told you so!’, or get your hate in early, so you can also say ‘told you so!’

Of course, we don’t have to do anything of the sort, because we didn’t watch the reality show that spawned her (and KATSEYE), and we can just see if this album everyone is talking about is any good, because there’s a good amount of noise being made about it.

Why is that? Well, for the most part, it seems it is something to do with the artist – and her new LP, ‘Prima’ – trying their darnedest to be edgier than the rest, in a sort of Post-Brat pop world, that enables her to sing about shagging on the carpet, her Hitachi wand, liking boys a little feminine, and whatnot.

If you’re a bit prudish with your pop, some of the content might make you screw your nose up – however, they can’t all be nice girls like Olivia Dean. No, this is in some kind of Pop Sleaze (like Indie Sleaze that came before it, and the subsequent revival recently) which looks good on someone like Slayyyter, so why can’t it look good elsewhere?

The badly behaved girls are coming to the fore in 2026.

This album effectively flits between some kind of reworking of hyper-pop, nods to early Noughties R&B, and straight down the middle radio pop, and with all that in mind, one of the things that really strikes you is not the reference points but rather, listening to this album you get the nagging sense that someone really needs to buy Adéla a new microphone.

Seriously – there’s a production tic on this where you start to wonder if she didn’t use a booth, but rather, recorded all of her takes in a voice memo app. Partially, it actively hems in the LP where you’d prefer it to either gloss up, or go the other way and get dirtier and more LoFi.

A small point maybe, but it speaks to a different issue which reveals itself.

Either way, you have to hand it to her – she’s got a penchant for leaning into her Eastern European-ness and landing some kinda funny lines with it. Whether you like the delivery or not, you can imagine people going mad for: “I was like, eight, working the night shift to learn English – I’m like a spy, I studied this shit, call me the KGBitch”

While this album won’t blow everyone away, it’s a cocky little thing that’ll be catnip to some and it may well point to a decent enough career. Given that Adéla’s first EP had a photo of her pissing up a wall, we could always do with a new maximalist popstar doing the rounds, just as long as they keep it interesting, because we don’t need another Rita Ora.

So what’s the album like? Well, it’s more fun than Ariana’s last album, which counts for something, but it isn’t a world beater. Maybe we’re not the audience for it and if we were the kind of people to say things like ‘she ate with this one’, we would be. Who knows?

To speak to the broader issue hinted at earlier, the fact is, as daft and badly behaved as this record is, it isn’t fully realised and feels kinda hurried in places. Not in a punky way, and not necessarily in an exploitative way by a record company hurrying things up for streams and merch sales – it just sounded like it needed to be put out, so Adéla could crack on with the next album.

She’s made something that has enough personality and there’s certainly room to grow, which means we should fully judge her on the next record she makes as that could be the really interesting one.