Addison Rae’s eponymous debut album, “Addison,” is finally here, in all its golden, hyperpop glory. Just 33 minutes long, the 12-track album, released Friday, is perfect for lazy days lounging by the beach, wired earbuds in place and perhaps accompanying a light perusal of Britney Spears’ memoir, “The Woman in Me.” 

Though Rae’s 2023 EP, “AR,” hinted briefly at Rae’s respect toward and emulation of icons such as Madonna and Spears, the EP received mostly lukewarm reviews. Many listeners were, and still remain, skeptical of her music’s authenticity following her rise to fame as an influencer and Hype House dweller. But “Addison” is Rae’s clear pivot away from the humiliation ritual of posting seven to eight dance-lip-sync TikToks every day — a routine that resides not long ago in her past. 

The record was conceived by the same writer-producer duo, ELVIRA and Luka Kloser, across all its tracks, featuring assists from songwriter Tove Burman on “Lost & Found” and “High Fashion” and with Rae undoubtedly at the team’s helm. The album doesn’t try to intellectualize itself; its lyrics are playful and about as deep as a kiddie pool. But, arguably, that’s where the appeal of this debut lies — the surface-level lyricism pairs nicely with the free, abundant use of synth and rich, layered production.

Across the board, the production on “Addison” is cohesive and fresh as it leans into the ditzy, TikToker persona Rae possessed just a few years prior — just enough to seem self-aware of her lyricism’s vapidity, but not enough to deliver any impactful emotional punch. 

The opening track, “New York,” is a bubbly, fast-paced and unabashedly repetitive two-and-a-half-minute jaunt. The song, ironically recorded outside of New York, reflects the age-old allure the city offers to its many visitors — Rae being no stranger to the city’s fantasy, hailing from Lafayette, Louisiana. 

In the trap-pop whimsy of “Money is Everything,” Rae clearly doesn’t take herself too seriously, and neither should you. There isn’t much to interpret around “Can’t a girl have fun, fun, fun?” Though “Money” almost careens into the abyss of 2021 flop “Obsessed,” listeners are reminded to suspend their disbelief to guiltlessly enjoy the melodramatic materialism Rae offers. She affirms her musical influences within this song: “And when I’m up dancing, please, DJ, play Madonna / Wanna roll one with Lana, get high with Gaga.” Yes, Addison, wouldn’t we all love to blaze up with Lady Gaga?

Rae clearly aspires toward Madonna in “Aquamarine,” with a ’90s synth production reminiscent of “Nothing Really Matters.” Both Lana Del Rey and Spears’ touch are tangible in the effervescent, alt-pop “Diet Pepsi,” which was the first single of the album, peaking at number 54 in Billboard’s Top 100 after its August release. 

The album is punctured by the interlude “Lost & Found,” which suitably fits the vibrant ambiance of “Addison.” Its closing line, “Drugs, drugs,” leads into the sultry, and similarly drug-referencing “High Fashion” perfectly. “High Fashion” holds an air of nostalgia, and its synth modulation mid-hook keeps you listening past “I know I’m drunk, but / I don’t need your drugs / I’d rather get, rather get high fashion.” The Kate Moss-ness and the effortless heroin-chic aesthetic of “High Fashion” is a fitting reflection of the United States’ nosedive into economic recession. 

Del Rey’s melancholic style of ballad seeps through in “Summer Forever.” The swaying, modulating key changes are addicting to listen to, and ELVIRA and Kloser’s technical experimentation with Rae’s breathy vocals are invaluable here. Along the same vein, “In The Rain” showcases the writer-producer duo’s prowess in uplifting Rae’s voice and range, through her airy, gentle vocal flips, to a sort of otherworldly sonic experience. 

“Fame is a Gun” once more asserts Rae’s demand for more fun and less bad vibes, though the overall production of the track is darker than the rest. The song opens, “Tell me who I am, do I provoke you with my tone of innocence? / Don’t ask too many questions, that is my one suggestion.” The tempo quickens from “Summer Forever,” but without any sense of whiplash. Rae takes the listener along for a ride, and the song pokes fun at how easy it is for her to generate criticism, albeit somewhat justified, given her murky influencer history. 

Following “Fame,” “Times Like These” and a second interlude, aptly named “Life’s No Fun Through Clear Waters,” slow the pace back down. The album’s finale, “Headphones On,” is a satisfying end to the refreshingly light record. The song follows a ’90s-esque R&B style, with, again, not much depth in the lyricism — though, “Guess I gotta accept the pain / Need a cigarette to make me feel better” later followed by “Wish my mom and dad could’ve been in love / Guess some things aren’t meant to last forever” is as real as it gets. 

For her future projects, more of this ’90s and 2000s pop and R&B experimentation would do well coupled with slightly more angst, excluding the trauma from her parents’ public, messy divorce. In continuing this liberation from her journey up secondhand-embarrassment summit, Rae should consider penning her struggles with the cognitive dissonance she most definitely has in separating her past influencer cringe from her it-girl-of-pop future and the complexities of TikTok-stan-parasocial relationships.