RAMBLE ON: "Vegas" by Doja Cat

The first disappointment of Doja Cat’s “Vegas” is that it has nothing to do with Las Vegas; in this song literally titled “Vegas” Doja only manages a stray mention of it. What a waste. Hip-hop in general could stand to be friendlier to Vegas, I say. (I like Vegas. I miss Vegas.) But while we’re talking about Vegas, I went to Vegas this year and you know what I didn’t see? Elvis impersonators. There were ads for Prince tribute shows, Michael tribute shows, even a truly tasteless tribute show for the 27 Club (the group of music superstars who died at age 27). But Elvis impersonators? The tribute act practically synonymous with Vegas? Conspicuously absent.

A few years ago I saw an article about the King’s declining legacy; being the King of Rock & Roll no longer means anything in these rock-anemic days. But, the brand management team in charge of the late King’s image had ideas on how to reframe him in a post-rock era. And now that effort seems to have culminated, with this new biopic “Elvis.”

Despite a very real risk of making an already cartoonish figure even more ludicrous, the Elvis estate chose the right director in Baz Luhrmann; as always, the man is unafraid of anachronism, and he deploys extremely out-of-era hip-hop touches to recontextualize the King’s place in modern music. It seems (from the point of view of the Elvis estate) there were two goals here. The first (and the movie does this a lot) is to connect Elvis to Black music, not as a man who stole it but as a man who loved and performed it and spread it through a segregated world. Icons of blues and soul – Sister Rosetta Tharpe, Little Richard, Fats Domino, B.B. King – pop up everywhere in the movie, for Elvis to admire and take inspiration from. The other goal is to make Elvis the king not just of rock but of pop. His ‘70s shows in Vegas, long considered the height of cheese, are shown as masterstrokes of spectacle and energy, and from it there’s a direct line to the future stars of flash and pomp – Elton, Britney, Gaga, and so on (all legends in Vegas as well).

But the two eras stay resolutely separate in the movie, and funny enough, the difference between “Black music” and “pop” is also the topic dominating the Doja Cat discourse right now. Is she a true rapper? Is she just a pop singer? I think the distinction is pointless. Pop-rap is still rap, and Doja has genuine skills on the mic; of course she’s a real MC, this discussion is stupid. That said, I understand the problem. My respect for Doja Cat has done nothing but increase during the time she’s been a star, and while I never have been unhappy to listen to a single one of her hits, there’s also not a single song from her I really like. I am constantly waiting for her to make that truly classic, era-defining smash, or just something that provokes any feelings at all, and I just can’t get there.

Yes, she’s a real rapper and she’s a real pop star. She’s both. But if I had to pigeonhole her into just one role right now, she’s a pop singer.  She’s more successful at it and that’s what her fans seem to like her most for. In that regard, Elvis’s Vegas era would have been a very logical inspiration for her “Elvis” song. Instead, it connects her with the rhythm & blues side of Elvis’s career. The sample is “Hound Dog,” and it fades in during the scene Elvis first hears Big Mama Thornton singing the song he would make his own. Doja samples the Thornton version, not Presley’s; some writers took that to mean that Doja was taking the song back from the white boy and giving it to its rightful owner, but that’s not really how it plays in the movie. Elvis is Black music, says the movie, and Black music is hip-hop; see, Elvis still matters after all!

But does Doja Cat matter? The two versions of “Hound Dog” are very different. Elvis sings it with joy, perhaps in his own gutsiness in bringing this song to White America, but Big Mama brings real teeth to it, one of a very proud lineage of women talking trash about useless no-good stinking men. (That it is one of Elvis’s signature tunes speaks to his impossible charisma; this song has never made any sense sung by a man.) The rotten-man lament is a tradition that continues today through hip-hop; in just the last couple years we’ve had several classics. I don’t think Doja Cat contributes meaningfully to it though.

One of the great things about “Elvis” is that it puts some danger and menace back in the man. Austin Butler as the King sings “I’m evil, evil, evil as can be” with real menace. Doja Cat is not his equal. I got shit from commenters, and from a friend (!) for calling Doja Cat innocent and cute. Doesn’t one of her biggest hits start with “I feel like fucking something”? Isn’t this the same artist who made “Boss Bitch”? Well, I stand by what I said. I got my friend to concede that okay, Doja isn’t Cupcakke or anything; yeah, she sure isn’t, but she also isn’t Cardi, Megan or even Lizzo, at least not anymore. And even during her earlier, edgier days, she was more adorable than anything, like a teenage boy cursing because he heard it on South Park. If she’s ever had a man do her wrong, there is no evidence in this song. Megan thee Stallion’s anger would probably hit real even if we didn’t know the source; Doja seems like a little girl play-acting, one without the maturity or the experience to sell what she’s trying to. The mis-chosen song title itself seems to understand that Doja isn’t ready to call any dude a hound dog with authority.

It's a shame because in the second verse she really begins to flow and you can see how talented she is, and how much she’s been wasted in the pop sphere. Come to think of it, “Elvis” is a movie literally about Elvis’s great talent being pissed away and watered down due to the malign influence of Colonel Tom Parker. I could probably make a case that Dr. Luke is Doja’s own Col. Parker; I’m watching the “Tia Tamera” video right now and it’s like a completely different person. I’ve wondered for years if my resistance to Doja is subconsciously because of the allegations against Dr. Luke, but it might just be that I’m genuinely not a fan of his music. His sound is too airy and weightless, I just can’t connect with it. I have the same problem with “Vegas” -- not a Dr. Luke joint, a genuine hip-hop song – that I do with her pop songs. Dr. Luke has pushed Doja away from her strengths – her willful immaturity, her weirdness – and “Vegas,” though very good in parts, doesn’t push her back towards them. Big Mama’s big bluesy voice overwhelms the song, and the juxtaposition does Doja no favors, she can’t compare. Doja Cat seems resolutely a girl singing a woman’s song.

I don’t know. Come to Vegas, Doja, it seems your natural home anyway. I don’t know if I mean that as a compliment or an insult.