When Megan Pete found fame at the turn of the decade, it was as the bringer of fierce, frisky, feelgood fun. Though always preoccupied with spreading word of her own sex appeal and appetites, there was a light-heartedness and communality to the rapper’s early hits, whether she was teaming up with Beyoncé for the double Grammy-winning Savage Remix, or joining forces with Nicki Minaj and Cardi B for the earwormy, meme-worthy Hot Girl Summer and hilariously outrageous WAP respectively.
A few years on, the mood has soured substantially. The 29-year-old may have secured a spot in the rap firmament – recent single Hiss debuted at No 1 on the Billboard charts – but judging by Megan, the self-titled third album from which it was taken, it’s never been lonelier at the top. This record does work as a skill showcase – the rapper’s flow is satisfyingly brisk and crisp – but Megan mainly acts as an icy, insanely repetitive sermon on its creator’s own superiority, as she bemoans the alienation being “that bitch” results in. Gone is the warmth of Hot Girl Summer or the irreverent camaraderie of WAP: Megan’s world is one of false friends (she is currently feuding with Minaj), mutually adulterous relationships and incessant betrayal, spurred by jealousy.
