I have been a fan of Cyrus since we were both teenagers. She would be on my television as Hannah Montana every afternoon after school, and later, on my bright pink bedroom stereo as she began to release music under her own name. I can chart my own life according to Cyrus albums – Bangerz was the soundtrack to my hedonistic university years, Miley Cyrus & Her Dead Petz got me through my first major breakup, Plastic Hearts was on the car radio when I moved out of London for good. But while I love her – perhaps because I love her – I know that Miley Cyrus isn’t living up to her potential.
Cyrus’s ninth album is ‘Something Beautiful’ (Photo: Columbia Records via AP)
Cyrus has an identity problem – and I’m not talking about the pearl-clutching moral panic over her sexualised image or very public drug use (now a thing of the past; Cyrus is fully sober now). Even after supporting her career for decades, I would struggle to explain what a Miley Cyrus song sounds like. Is it the slick, sunny production of her eighth album Endless Summer Vacation? Or the Flaming Lips-inflected psychotropics of her LSD-fuelled 2015 album Miley Cyrus & Her Dead Petz? Or the rebellious teen rock of her early releases like “Can’t Be Tamed” or “Fly on the Wall”? Cyrus’s music can’t be easily defined – so it’s not easily marketable.
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But her albums never quite live up to those expectations of pop perfection, instead going off into strange tangents with no through line between songs. The first half of Something Beautiful, for example, is laden with radio-friendly simple songs, before delving into a Pink Floyd-esque swirl of layered vocals and, in the case of “Give Me Love”, a hallucinatory description of a fantasy world not a million miles away from The Beatles’ “Lucy In the Sky With Diamonds” (which Cyrus has covered numerous times).
Cyrus performed for fans at the Chateau Marmont, but has ruled out going on tour (Photo: Emma McIntyre/Getty Images for TikTok)
The one thing Cyrus has conquered is the art of the live performance. The songwriting and production may be dodgy, but her powerhouse, raspy vocals are the jewel in her musical crown and nowhere are they better showcased than on stage. If Cyrus toured, I have no doubt her belting out the end of new song “Pretend You’re God” would set social media alight. Alas, Cyrus has dampened any hopes of her going on the road any time soon thanks to Reinke’s edema, which she explains as “abuse of the vocal cords”.
Over the years, Cyrus has deliberately stepped back from her celebrity status in favour of focusing on cultivating her image as a musician. But when the identity and artistic vision is as muddled as hers, it’s hard to really know who Cyrus really is. Perhaps she doesn’t know either.
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