august 5–18, 2019 | new york 55
the store.” It’s inspired by her own diffi-
culty with breakup talk—she once broke
up with a guy on top of a mountain, then
had to hike down with him—and has a
particularly Carly absurdity, both ridicu-
lous and deeply felt. It didn’t make the
cut for the album but did, at her insis-
tence, for Emotion: Side B. The choice is
emblematic of her approach to music.
“Some people will get it!” she says. “It’s a
way to be like, ‘I’m taking you to find
your people.’ ”
In interviews around the release of
Dedicated, Jepsen described wanting to
write an album that you could clean your
apartment to, chilled-down from the exu-
berance she put out in Emotion. On tour,
she has been surprised to discover “it’s a
party,” though anything involving Jepsen
ends up feeling a bit like a party—if not
fully a club rager, then at least the best
sleepover you can imagine. Jepsen has
shown up onstage in bodysuits and span-
gled jackets and one outfit she described
as a “princess superhero” look. “It feels
ridiculous backstage, but as soon as you
go onstage, that’s the theater,” she says. It’s
the way a person who’s naturally shy
transforms into a performer or just
re veals that part that was there all along.
Jepsen was always a theater kid. Back in
high school in British Columbia, she
starred in Annie (as Annie) and as Dorothy
(diversity-casting ironies aside) in The
Wiz. As a grown-up, she has appeared as
Fr enchie in Grease Live!, and in 2014 she
did a stint in Broadway’s Cinderella. While
she says she’d be excited at the prospect of
writing a pop musical, she’s not looking to
ge t into the grind of an eight-show-a-week
schedule again right now. On tour, at least,
she has the freedom to reinvent her act as
she goes, bring in special guests (one night
in New York it’s Mark Kanemura, a dancer
who made wig-soaked videos of himself
dancing to her songs), and respond directly
to the feeling of a crowd. In Cinderella, she
most enjoyed the moments when some-
thing would go a little wrong and she’d
have to adapt.
As we progress through our paintings,
Jepsen, following the lead of her mother,
starts to take liberties with her own, too,
giving the woman deep-red hair (“It’s
definitely from a box”), detailed wallpa-
per, and “a purple nip” (as in nipple).
“I’ve strayed from the lesson,” she says,
“following my heart.”
But before she has a chance to finish
the painting, she has to go—after all, she
has a show that night.
It’s the kind of incomplete moment a
Carly Rae Jepsen song lives in, where
everything is potentially amazing, orabout the guy named Julien, about the
breakup on a mountain—that don’t quite
register over the noise of the audience.
A few vodka-sodas in, I realize the
incompleteness is the hook. Jepsen gets
everyone to lean in, sing along, playact
her pop sensation with her. There’s a
crowd of people singing, caught in the
wonder of being “T oo Much,” channeling
the upbeat heartbreak of “Boy Problems,”
shouting about ditching a guy for the
store. It’s like a group-therapy session
where everyone showed up in a tank top,
an immersive theater for the young,
drunk, and emotionally overwhelmed.
Leading it all, there’s Carly, though lead-
ing seems like the wrong word. She’s at
the center of it, sure, but whatever she’s
summoning is bigger and participatory.
She’s just here with the rest of us, noo-
dling around, feeling it out. ■potentially disastrous, but most impor-
tant it’ s ... just plain potential. She undoes
her apron and packs up her stuff, leaving
me with an earnest and true Carly-ism: “I
just want you to know that this would
have been amazing,” she says, laughing.
“It’s just ‘am—’ right now!”by the time jepsen arrives onstage
that night at Hammerstein Ballroom in
front of a sweaty crowd, many of whom
arrived pre-drenched from a summer
thunderstorm, she has made the trans-
formation into her stage persona. She’s
wearing a top made to look like caution
tape and leather pants, her anime-
blonde hair bobbing along to her music’s
skittering percussion. This isn’t a com-
plete transformation: Her choreography
is goofy in a way that’s honest, and
between songs she tells anecdotes—Jepsen at Painting Lounge with her Picasso.Y ___ DD ___ AD ___ PD ___ EICADVANCED FORMTRANSMITTED
________ COPY ___ DD ___ AD ___ PD ___ EIC1619CR_opener_carlyrae_lay [Print]_35549002.indd 55 7/30/19 5:48 PMaugust5–18, 2019 | newyork 55the store.” It’s inspired by her own diffi-
culty with breakup talk—she once broke
up with a guy on top of a mountain, then
had to hike down with him—and has a
particularly Carly absurdity, both ridicu-
lous and deeply felt. It didn’t make the
cut for the album but did, at her insis-
tence, for Emotion: Side B. The choice is
emblematic of her approach to music.
“Some people will get it!” she says. “It’s a
way to be like, ‘I’m taking you to find
your people.’ ”
In interviews around the release of
Dedicated, Jepsen described wanting to
write an album that you could clean your
apartment to, chilled-down from the exu-
berance she put out in Emotion. On tour,
she has been surprised to discover “it’s a
party,” though anything involving Jepsen
ends up feeling a bit like a party—if not
fully a club rager, then at least the best
sleepover you can imagine. Jepsen has
shown up onstage in bodysuits and span-
gled jackets and one outfit she described
as a “princess superhero” look. “It feels
ridiculous backstage, but as soon as you
go onstage, that’s the theater,” she says. It’s
the way a person who’s naturally shy
transforms into a performer or just
re veals that part that was there all along.
Jepsen was always a theater kid. Back in
high school in British Columbia, she
starred in Annie (as Annie) and as Dorothy
(diversity-casting ironies aside) in The
Wiz. As a grown-up, she has appeared as
Fr enchie in Grease Live!, and in 2014 she
did a stint in Broadway’s Cinderella. While
she says she’d be excited at the prospect of
writing a pop musical, she’s not looking to
ge t into the grind of an eight-show-a-week
schedule again right now. On tour, at least,
she has the freedom to reinventheract as
she goes, bring in special guests (onenight
in New York it’s Mark Kanemura,a dancer
who made wig-soaked videos ofhimself
dancing to her songs), and responddirectly
to the feeling of a crowd. In Cinderella,she
most enjoyed the moments whensome-
thing would go a little wrong andshe’d
have to adapt.
As we progress through our paintings,
Jepsen, following the lead of hermother,
starts to take liberties with herown,too,
giving the woman deep-red hair(“It’s
definitely from a box”), detailedwallpa-
per, and “a purple nip” (as innipple).
“I’ve strayed from the lesson,”shesays,
“following my heart.”
But before she has a chancetofinish
the painting, she has to go—afterall,she
has a show that night.
It’s the kind of incomplete momenta
Carly Rae Jepsen song lives in,where
everything is potentially amazing,or
abouttheguynamedJulien,about the
breakupona mountain—that don’t quite
registeroverthenoiseoftheaudience.
Afewvodka-sodasin,I realize the
incompletenessisthehook.Jepsen gets
everyonetoleanin,singalong,playact
herpopsensationwithher. There’s a
crowdofpeoplesinging,caught in the
wonderofbeing“T ooMuch,”channeling
theupbeatheartbreakof“BoyProblems,”
shoutingaboutditchinga guyfor the
store.It’slike a group-therapysession
where everyone showed up in a tank top,
an immersive theater for the young,
drunk, and emotionally overwhelmed.
Leading it all, there’s Carly, though lead-
ing seems like the wrong word.She’s at
the center of it, sure, but whatever she’s
summoning is bigger and participatory.
She’s just here with the rest of us, noo-
dling around, feeling it out. ■potentiallydisastrous,butmost impor-
tantit’ s ...just plainpotential.Sheundoes
herapronandpacksupherstuff, leaving
mewithanearnestandtrueCarly-ism:“I
justwantyoutoknowthat thiswould
havebeenamazing,” shesays,laughing.
“It’s just ‘am—’ rightnow!”bythetimejepsenarrivesonstage
thatnightat HammersteinBallroomin
front of a sweaty crowd, manyofwhom
arrived pre-drenched froma summer
thunderstorm, she has made the trans-
formation into her stage persona. She’s
wearing a top made to look like caution
tape and leather pants, her anime-
blonde hair bobbing along to her music’s
skittering percussion. This isn’t a com-
plete transformation: Her choreography
is goofy in a way that’s honest, and
between songs she tells anecdotes—Jepsen at Painting Lounge with her Picasso.