Hollywood is hollow – step out of the spotlight, and very little warmth exists outside of its burning glow. Yet the allure of stardom can be impossible to disentangle yourself from. When you’re met with howling fans, charted singles and magazine covers, it’s easy to lose yourself – and Halsey’s The Great Impersonator is their attempt to rummage through the scraps of who they once were, desperately reclaiming themselves in the aftermath of fame. This record is a Stockholm syndrome love-letter to Hollywood, in awe of the glitz and glamour before clawing away at the veneer, hunting for something real.
The corrosive impact of fame on Halsey is made clear immediately. Opener Only Living Girl in LA sees the star admitting how much they have sacrificed to their audience, admitting their body “was never [theirs]”, and feeling like they “have no name.” It’s a track that feels small and vulnerable in all its acoustic twanging, an earnest cry to feel alive, to feel real. However, reality is quickly drowned out, as the next track, buoyant pop-rock banger, Ego, requires a new imitation to take control. The ever-changing tone emulates the overwhelming chaos of Hollywood – feeling like you need to adapt to keep attention on you.
Halsey utilises each vessel to reflect on themselves from a safer distance. I Believe In Magic paints single motherhood as a pastel dream, complete with chirping songbirds and woozy overlapping samples of Halsey’s child, Ender, nattering away – yet the track toils over whether Halsey is doing enough for their son. Life Of A Spider (Draft) is a piano-driven showstopper, a one-take burst of pain that tears Halsey’s beating heart out and pins it to the table. Elsewhere, Lonely Is The Muse sees Halsey knocking out some genuinely harrowing Amy Lee-esque howls, sprinkled with hard rock grit.
However, the true stand-out of the record is Halsey’s ode to Fiona Apple, Arsonist. The track shimmers in its off-kilter existentialism, its crackling texture and backwards vocals smouldering with intensity. It’s a track that puts Halsey’s poetic voice at the forefront, allowing them to elevate their language, twisting words with absolute freedom.
Of course, certain tracks feel tenuously linked with their assigned artist (don’t go into I Never Loved You expecting Kate Bush vocals, or The Great Impersonator expecting Björk, because you will be disappointed), but the mixed palette keeps you on your toes.
If you pause to consider some of the artists Halsey has chosen to emulate, you’ll notice a trend. Kate Bush, Britney Spears, Marilyn Monroe…it’s a waiting room of artists that gave, and gave, and gave, until the world broke them down. Halsey’s life has been on full display for years now, transforming from Tumblr teen-dream poet to a tabloid gossip column favourite. This record feels like a vow to never let Hollywood consume them whole. It’s a testament to Halsey’s individuality and ferocity as an artist – and, beneath each mask, The Great Impersonator is broiling with a confidence that feels utterly Halsey.
