Tate McRae - So Close to What
These nachos might not be reheated, but someone forgot the dip.
Pop starlet Tate McRae presents her third studio album, So Close to What. Recently, I discussed Sam Fender’s third album and how the third record is often a defining moment for artists—a true test of their evolution and artistry. However, this concept doesn’t quite apply to McRae, because for that, an artist needs at least two meaningful records, with one being more than just good. Her previous two albums, while commercially successful, were far from that. If not outright terrible, they were at best unremarkable. Despite this, she continued to generate hits and was relentlessly pushed by the industry as the next big pop sensation.
This time, she had the chance to create an "album album"—one that wasn’t rushed, wasn’t built around a single viral hit, and wasn’t slapped together in two weeks like Think Later (2023), which felt unfinished, uninspired, and existed purely because “Greedy” went viral.
So, does So Close to What mark an improvement? Technically, yes—but perhaps not in the way you’d hope. The album consists of fifteen light, somewhat mindless pop-R&B tracks spread across 42 minutes, which feels excessive given the material. By a third album, an artist should have a clearer sense of identity—some kind of artistic vision. Yet despite her moderate success, McRae still feels like a blank canvas. Neither the musical arrangements, production, nor lyrics offer much in terms of substance or direction. This album could be sung by almost anyone, and I bet you wouldn’t even notice the difference.
The album dabbles in a little bit of everything—there’s a touch of Britney Spears, a bit of Charli XCX’s pop era, some Doja Cat vibes, and hints of Ariana Grande. Yet, it never truly reaches the level of any of these artists, lacking the delivery, depth, and execution. And McRae’s signature mumbled vocal style only highlights the fact that these songs aren’t meant to be deeply listened to—they’re designed to passively exist in the background.
That being said, a few tracks do stand out: 2 Hands, Sports Car, and Dear God offer brief moments of promise. But overall, the album blends into one long, indistinct song—simple, impersonal, and ultimately forgettable. She’s trying to serve Britney, while musically giving us AI Ariana Grande.
There’s a demand right now for Y2K aesthetics, bold pop stars, and over-the-top personas. Fans crave theatrics, showmanship, and a sense of purpose behind the music. McRae seems eager to play in this space but lacks either the right team to refine her artistry or the personal conviction to fully embrace her own identity. As a result, So Close to What feels neutral—neutral in tone, in emotion, in execution. It’s neither terrible nor great, which ironically makes it the hardest type of album to critique. When something is bad, you can dissect its flaws. When it’s great, you can celebrate its strengths. But when it’s just there—you’re left searching for something to say.
In a world obsessed with labels and titles, true leaders are those who embrace history as a tool for learning, elevate it, and craft their work with purpose—creating not to chase industry trends, but out of genuine artistic fulfillment. I can only hope that Tate McRae uses her success wisely and eventually discovers the real reason she wanted to become an artist—if, of course, there is a deeper purpose behind it all.
5.9/10
