The highs and lows of The Great Impersonator.
Halsey’s fifth studio album teeters between sounding wonderful and one-note, but its heavy themes make it worth a relisten.
I know people make fun of Halsey because of her Tumblr days, but this woman is a truly remarkable artist. I started paying more attention to her during the rollout of her third studio album, Manic, and I stayed because of the following album, If I Can't Have Love, I Want Power. Manic was the start of Halsey’s exploration of a new sound, departing from the more cinematic hopeless fountain kingdom to craft a rawer, messier autobiographical portrait. So, going into The Great Impersonator, I was curious about how she would further develop her aesthetic. Right from the rollout, I was very impressed with her impersonations of musicians, with Aaliyah, Kate Bush, PJ Harvey, and Stevie Nicks standing out as my favorites. I was excited to see how she might blend these musical inspirations with her artistic passions for visual art and painting in her fifth studio album, even though the singles were not instant favorites.
“Only Living Girl in LA” is a six-minute introduction to the album–a risky choice in an age when people have short attention spans. Although it’s a slow song, it does a great job of outlining the themes that the album explores: her battle with chronic and rare illnesses, her experience with becoming a mother, her career, and her relationship with her parents.
Following this somber and contemplative opener, things pick up right when we get to my favorite single, “Ego.” The verses flow well and are up to par with the chorus, which is something that some songs on the album lack. It is a pop/rock head-bopper from start to finish, even though Halsey talks about wanting to feel happier by killing her ego
The three “Letter[s] to God” she includes in the album serve as cautionary tales, warning to be mindful of what you wish for. In “Letter to God (1974),” she envies the life of a boy she knew from school who had leukemia and how his parents never fought: “Please God, I wanna be sick.” “Letter to God (1983)” sees Halsey eating her words as her prayer is answered just when things are starting to go well for her. The country/rock twang works well in this vocal performance. Towards the song’s conclusion, it feels ironic and sincere at the same time, as the growl in Halsey’s singing accentuates her frustration and anger. In her final letter, “Letter to God (1998),” Halsey reflects on her love for her newborn son–the first person she doesn’t want to “get rid of”–and makes a series of desperate attempts to reach God–“or whoever [he is]”–so that she might quell her remaining fear that He has forsaken her. It is such a beautifully tragic song.
In light of this “1998” letter, I see “You asked for this” on her previous album, If I Can’t Have Love, I Want Power, in a new light. In that song, she wrote, “Go on and be a big girl/You asked for this now.” She was asking herself to suck it up and face the consequences, and now, in the final letter, we find Halsey pleading with God to undo what she once asked for. Even if these songs have different themes, I still enjoy seeing this unintentional development in The Great Impersonator.
Halsey has openly struggled with endometriosis, and before releasing the lead single “The End,” she announced on Instagram that she had been diagnosed in 2022 with lupus and a rare T-cell lymphoproliferative disorder. Beneath its grim details, “The End” is a sweet-sounding stripped-back song where Halsey asks her lover (possibly Avan Jogia) if he would stay through it all as she battles her illnesses. The song is an underwhelming lead single, but the way she described the doctor, who did not listen to her claims of illness, as “circling a drain” really stuck with me. “Dog Years,” another track that delves into Halsey’s struggle with chronic illness, takes on a darker tone, relating her condition to that of a sick dog about to be put down. The metaphor is unsettling and profound as she further questions whether the peace and relief promised in the afterlife are even attainable for her. While my impression of “Dog Years” remains lukewarm, its lyricism, instrumentation, and Halsey’s intonation are compelling.
“Hometown” presents Davey, a late hometown friend of hers who died from an overdose, as the fulcrum around which Halsey explores her teenage years, high school memories, and the lie sold to us that is youth. The chorus bangs, and the bridge concludes with an earworm (listen to how she says: “But when the crow’s feet come, the kingdom come.”) The country-esque vibe is also super fun and a highlight of the album.
She asserts her belief in heaven in “I Believe in Magic,” an acoustic track where Halsey draws parallels between her relationship with her mom and her son, hoping he doesn’t fall into the same traps she did. The voice notes of conversations with her son are so cute and help lighten the song’s mood. On “Hurt Feelings,” her focus turns to her traumatizing relationship with her Dad, and while I appreciate this perspective, sonically, the song doesn’t do much for me. It is my least favorite track on the album because the verses sound like word vomit, and the chorus doesn’t save the song either.
In “I Believe in Magic,” we learn that “Back in the day, [her] dad and [Halsey] would share a laugh at all of her [Mom’s] mistakes/But that alliance didn't save [her] from her [Mom’s] fate.” As she reiterates in “Lucky,” Halsey, too, became a single mom. I really enjoy the early 2000s Britney Spears-esque chorus on this track. With the loneliness she felt throughout her childhood, she describes herself as a problem child turned difficult adult and juxtaposes her success with her life struggles. This song is inherently ironic because of what she details, but also, the opening track tells us: “But I'm not lucky, and I know I wasn't chosen.”
So, with a hole left in her inner child, Halsey tells us that she was prone to troubled relationships in “I Never Loved You.” I enjoy the Swiftian bridge on this track; however, in general, I feel underwhelmed by this song as well as the groovier “Panic Attack,” which details the feeling of being on edge and not knowing how to read the relationship.
On the record, design, fate, and body are the overarching themes that tie everything together. For example, “Arsonist” and “Life of the Spider (Draft)” talk about someone being molded or made impersonal so that they can fit in shut boxes. I really like the hip-hop beat on “Arsonist,” so I can see it growing on me. Similarly, while “Life of the Spider (Draft)” offers a lyrically aching and emotional performance, it has yet to connect with me. “Darwinism,” which I would say is the album’s thesis and another grower, takes this concept to a new level, pulling on metaphors of evolution and civilization. Halsey expresses that everyone else possesses favorable traits that make them suited for this world—traits she feels she lacks: “You all know something that I don't/You all learned something that I fear I'll never know/You all grew body parts I fear I'll never grow.” Grappling with illness, Halsey feels as though she has been naturally selected against.
‘Cause she’s a mirrorball, “Lonely is the Muse” furthers the disconnectedness that comes with being an artist–the feeling that she doesn’t own her body. You can hear Halsey cry for help, especially during the bridge and the last chorus, as she starts scream-singing. I really like the guitar on this song and the dark-rock vibe that Amy Lee inspired. The Frankenstein imagery and not feeling supported by the “current paradigm” are summed up in the title track. “The Great Impersonator” is a perfect closing to the record. The plucked strings are so beautiful, the guitar works well, and the whimsical harp glissando is just everything.
Overall, I think The Great Impersonator might be Halsey’s most cohesive album. There is a clear thread of topics that Halsey wanted to touch upon, and feeling like an impostor in her own body was the web that connected them all. However, the length and some sonic choices make some tracks feel one-note or monotonous, almost like spoken word. The album is well-written, but this can’t save some songs melodically.
This album explores some heavy subjects, compelling you to engage with her emotionally charged lyrics. Perhaps she wants us to share in her struggle with making sense of her situation through the discomfort she evokes. The album is undeniably raw, making it overwhelming on a first listen. However, with each subsequent listen, I find myself growing to appreciate both the project and her artistry.
edited by Dawn Heatherly
album artwork believed to belong to either the publisher of the work or the artist.
