As unimpressive as the singles to promote Diamonds and Dancefloors were, there is always some hope that the album tracks will provide that unique strength of an electropop album. Ava Max charts her second release with an offering that feels controlled and tame. A frequently generic album that has failed to move on the synthpop charms that make the core of this album. Never quite charting anything inherently unique, Max plays her influences on her sleeve and features them prominently from track to track, an abundance of average pieces that even with octave shifts and different beat structures, feel all the same and mesmerizingly uninspired.
Beyond the generic sci-fi synth opening of Sleepwalker, that three-minute track has a fundamental problem layered throughout Diamonds and Dancefloors. There is nothing within that gives any hint of originality to Max. A case of done before, and better, elsewhere. Even then, there should be comfort in the similarities those singles, Million Dollar Baby and Weapons for instance, have to the influences of Lady Gaga and the powerful pop vortex of Dua Lipa. They do not. It is worrying for Max fans, those that are moved by the lyrics here, that the best parts of many tracks are the brief synth solo structures that play out in the mind as a key point for Max to catch a breath from spurning emptiness.
Ghost fails to make an impression, as do the rest of the tracks. Ironic it may be for an album with a track titled Ghost to have its spirit missing, that is the fundamental problem for Diamonds and Dancefloors. A series of uplifting, charged anthems that never make their way past being a barebones copy of Physical from the much superior Future Nostalgia. That electro-house sub-genre styling is infectious. It spreads across the album and leaves very little room for experimentation. To Max’s credit, much of that comes from having Matthew James Burn in the producing booth, his collaborations with Lady Gaga and a slate of generic pop artists make Diamonds and Dancefloors marketable and safe. The emptiness of Hold Up is one of many frustrating signs of that lacking uniqueness. Exes, texts and lying. Daring stuff.
But daring and complacent can work with one another. Max has not struck that balance on this absolutely fine run of shackled singles and bits of album filler. Weapons still stands out as the obvious sore thumb it is, somewhat worse when it is used as the buffer zone between the title track and the regressive dullard tones that piece brings. “Diamonds and dancefloors, that’s all I want.” That is all that can be gathered from Diamonds and Dancefloors, a barebones electropop album that will appeal if simple lyrics and the projection of the self are more important than interesting lyrics or electro-clad hooks. Clinical, risk-free work from Max will certainly steady the course of her projected rise and rise – but it feels given, not earned. Max has conformed her styles to a very noncommittal dance-like structure and offers nothing unique. Diamonds and Dancefloors is a frustrating, vain step back for the dance-pop genre.
