Following a vibrant medley of hits at the MTV Video Music Awards last week, Katy Perry clutched her gold-plated Moon Person to accept the Video Vanguard trophy. “There are so many factors that have to align for an artist to have a long and successful career. There are no decade-long coincidences,” she confidently stated. “One of the biggest reasons I’m standing here right now is because I learned how to ignore all the noise, that every single artist in this industry has to constantly fight against — especially women.”

She’s right, in that she didn’t stumble into success. But tuning out the world around her has had a slogging effect on her creative output, at least on her sixth album “143,” out today. In many ways, “143” was set up to fail in the wake of its very rocky rollout (more on that later). It arrives on the back of her quickly forgotten last album, 2020’s “Smile,” a record released at the peak of the pandemic that slumped off the charts as soon as it was released (despite the spark of singles “Never Really Over” and “Harleys in Hawaii”). Perry felt not just out of lockstep with the times — by then, pop music had pivoted away from candy-striped bombast in favor of soul-baring confessionalism — but also with her own creative merits. Much of the spryness of some of her best work had evaporated; even the self-deprecation of Perry posing as a sad clown on the album cover felt forced.

Essentially, “143” removes the remnants of the bubbly personality that propelled Perry to stardom in the early 2010s. The album is flat, relying on a string of lyrical clichés and musical ideas that rarely reach their peak. Across many of its 11 songs, Perry sounds detached and distant, as if she'd just clocked in between filming for “American Idol.” Little of the clever wit that fueled some of her biggest hits is present on the album, a disappointing step back from the sharp intelligence she once effortlessly showcased.

This isn't to diminish what she's achieved so far. Perry is one of the most successful artists of the 21st century — not many pop singers can boast an album with five consecutive number-one singles (she tied Michael Jackson’s “Bad” streak with “Teenage Dream”). But her creative momentum has slowed down over the years. 2017’s “Witness” marked a turning point for Perry, who, for the first time, was working without frequent collaborator Dr. Luke, likely due to the damaging sexual harassment lawsuit Kesha filed the previous year. That album took some risks — some might say it was tasteful, others might say it was pointless — but showed that deviating from a formula that consistently produced successful results was a mistake she couldn't avoid.

“143” attempts to recreate that magic, with Luke taking the lead on most of the album. Perry faced immediate backlash when word got out about Luke's involvement in her project. Luke and Kesha had settled their legal issues, but the controversy lingered; fans were harshly critical of Perry, just as they had been of other artists who have continued to collaborate with him. This miscalculation instantly tainted the mood of an album poised as her comeback with the release “Woman’s World,” a hollow anthem based on self-empowerment platitudes that anyone could learn in a basic Feminism course. Add to that the fact that Luke was involved, and the hypocrisy was undeniable.

As such, “143” was tarnished by the narrative surrounding it. Perry hardly elaborated on why she reunited with Luke: “I wrote these songs from my experience of my whole life going through this transformation, and he was one of the people to help facilitate that,” she said on the podcast “Call Your Daddy.” Some fans theorized that she was contractually obligated to continue working with him, but the truth of that is uncertain. And if that were the case, then admitting it would label the album as insincere. Of course, Perry is not responsible for Luke’s actions, but working with him is a choice, regardless of how it’s framed. And so it was a lose-lose situation for Perry from the outset, and she disregarded the discourse despite a noticeable ripple through the album’s release.

A powerful product can be the ultimate remedy for controversy — just ask Kanye West, who secured a number-one single earlier this year — yet “143” fails to make a convincing case. It’s an album about the multifaceted nature of romance, named after an outdated code meant to signal “I love you” to anyone who once used a pager. Perry is enamored by the concept of love, surely inspired by her long-term engagement to actor Orlando Bloom. On “143,” love saves (“All the Love”), love hurts (“Truth”), love fulfills (“Gimme Gimme”).

But Perry struggles to inject her songs with compelling emotion. Part of what has bolstered Perry’s artistic merit is her strong stage presence. Even when her songs are presented in their simplest form, Perry has had a playful way of adding personal touches and humor to them — “Barbies on the barbecue, is that a hickey or a bruise?” comes to mind — and her work on “One of the Boys” and “Teenage Dream” exuded personality because of it.

Similar to her past few albums, the lyrics on “143” are full of cliches, as if they were generated by a computer. “Yeah I got those palpitations, those boom boom booms / I’m on a new vibration / Yeah I need some medication / Your ooh, ooh, ooh,” she sings on the robotic “Crush,” which sounds like a Vengaboys B-side. Elsewhere, on “Nirvana,” her love takes her to towering heights: “You make me feel, make me feel so high / You make me feel, make me feel alive.” “Algorithm,” featuring JID, turns technological metaphors into romantic propositions: “You got me hooked on your algorithm,” she winks.

Luke’s musical style is notably not guitar-driven — he’s a skilled musician, and once performed in the house band on “Saturday Night Live” — and he instead leans towards the dance floor with synth-heavy sounds. These are easily some of his weakest productions in recent memory. As he did with the Alice Deejay sample flip on Kim Petras’ “Alone,” he disassembles Crystal Waters’ “Gypsy Woman” for “I’m His He’s Mine” featuring Doechii, slowing the pace to a plodding rhythm. “Gorgeous,” featuring Petras, is a repetitive throwback to “Dark Horse,” as is the moving-on anthem “Truth,” which comes near the album’s end. His work here lacks much variety, and the songs in turn tend to lack direction.

However, there are rare flashes of energy in “143.” “Lifetimes,” one of the album’s pre-release singles, was dismissed amidst the growing negativity surrounding the album. But this criticism felt misguided. Yes, it may be more aligned with the dance-pop that dominated the 2010s, but it executes that style with precision. If you close your eyes, you can almost imagine this song finding a place on playlists at the dawn of Spotify.

“Wonder,” which concludes the album, is the closest approximation to genuine sincerity on “143.” Like “Lifetimes,” it’s an ode to her daughter Daisy, who makes an appearance on the song itself. “Don’t let the weight of the world be heavy on your wings,” Perry sings. “Stand pure beautiful girl / Don’t let the fear in the world burn out what you believe.” Amid the lyrical simplicity, Perry finally sounds the most like herself: unafraid to be as sentimental as she wants to be, and unashamed of it.

“143” could have been a record that reflected that authenticity, the same that fueled the self-love anthem “Firework” or the empowering “Roar.” But much of that has faded with time, perhaps due to the ever-evolving landscape of pop music, or the changing dynamics in celebrity culture. Perry seems unsure how to recapture it, but as “143” demonstrates, dwelling on the past isn’t always the best path forward.