Tinashe 9/25/26

Tinashe - Popstar (Album).

Popstar is Tinashe’s eighth album, out September 25 on her own label with Nice Life and Atlantic. It runs sixteen tracks in about 39 minutes, so most songs land between two and three minutes, and there isn’t a single guest feature on it. That’s rare for a major-label pop record, and it reads like a statement. The album plays like a career in miniature: the hunger, the fear that nobody’s watching, the grind, and then the strange feeling of finally being seen. Critics were nearly unanimous on it, which is not something I can say about most records this year.

“Sunglasses” opens the album with an odd, hypnotic beat co-produced by Arca, and then Tinashe slides in over it. She’s wearing shades indoors, cranking the volume, and treating music like her religion. She says she’s overwhelmed and needs to feel something. It’s the perfect way to start, because it tells you right away this isn’t going to be a standard pop album.

“Too Easy” is the lead single, and it’s under two minutes. It hits with heavy bass and the swagger of someone who just got her first big break. It’s short, loud, and confident, and it gets out of the way before you can get tired of it.

“Melatonin” is the standout. It’s frantic and glitchy, with acid-tinged, ghetto-tech-style techno and bits of sampled audio stitched into the beat. The lyrics are aimed at everyone who slept on her, and she delivers them with a wink. It’s also the clearest summary of what the whole record is about, and the video shows off her dancing background.

“Empty Stadium” is built on nervous, eerie drum’n’bass, and it comes from a recurring dream where she’s standing onstage waiting for applause that never comes. She sings about putting in the work and waiting, and not wanting to die underrated. It’s the most vulnerable-sounding song in the first half, wrapped in production that makes your heart race.

“Flashbacks” turns memory into something sensual and a little unstable, with glitchy beats, solemn piano, and otherworldly backing vocals. It’s about the late hours when you’re still up at 6 a.m. thinking about someone. It’s one of the lighter songs here, and some people find it forgettable, but I’d take it as a mood.

“Overdramatic” is a 44-second interlude where she tells her critics to chill because she already knows she’s the baddest. It’s funny because she says she doesn’t need validation and then admits it would be nice. It’s more of a sketch than a song, and that’s fine.

“I’d Rather Be Alone” is the rare ballad on the record, and it’s a big, aching one. It’s the kind of song that could have been the most conventional moment on the album, but the delivery makes it hit hard. Tinashe’s voice really shines here.

“Crash Out” is an anthem for anyone hanging onto their sanity by a thread. She’s done staying calm and keeping the peace, and playing nice is officially over. It’s loud, unhinged, and a great release.

“Pillow Fight” is velvety, sensual alt-R&B about a very adult kind of sleepover, complete with the overnight bag and the late-night text. It’s playful and a little dangerous, and it works because she sounds like she’s having fun.

“Nobody Wanna Dance Anymore” is loping and moody, with a slow groove from Kingdom and Ricky Reed. It’s about a night where nobody feels like moving, and it’s one of the album’s most underrated pieces.

“Twentyfive Eight” is atmospheric and tremulous, with a hazy, floaty production that critics are split on. Some call it a highlight, and others call it the weakest link. I’d put it in the “grows on you” category.

“The Show Must Go On” is only about 19 seconds. The word “popstar” loops and warps into something like a siren while canned cheering grinds underneath. It’s a tiny, unsettling moment, and it makes the point that the noise never stops.

“Popstar” is the title track, and it’s moody and thoughtful, produced by Kingdom and Reed. She asks whether this is everything she thought it would be, and the answer isn’t clean. It sits right at the emotional center of the album.

“Brainrot” is hyperpop with a catchy electronic beat, and it turns internet slang into rhythm. The words could have dated it on arrival, but she treats them like percussion. It’s a darker, stranger song than the title suggests.

“Cloud 9” is a booming, cathartic song where she finally feels something with someone and celebrates her success. It keeps the record moving at high speed and works as a victory lap before the last song.

“Heavy Weight” closes the album with nothing but an acoustic guitar and her voice. After all the glitch and gloss, the closer is soft and exposed, and it’s about an uneven relationship. It’s the right ending, because it shows the person under all the noise.

Overall, this is a bold, funny, and surprisingly emotional record, and it never sounds like she’s chasing a trend. It jumps between hyperpop, R&B, techno, drum’n’bass, and acoustic ballads, and every swerve feels natural because her voice ties it all together. The story it tells is about an industry that spent years ignoring her and then expected her to be grateful, and she tells it with humor and bite. A couple of the little interludes feel more like scaffolding than songs, and the internet-heavy slang will date it, but that’s part of the point. It’s short, replayable, and full of ideas, and it’s the best thing she’s put out in years.

Verdict: Essential

Personal Favorites: “Melatonin,” “Empty Stadium,” and “I’d Rather Be Alone”