Review
Guitars arrive first, jagged and overdriven, before Victory detonates into synths, vocoders, and giant choruses. Madeon’s seven-year return is a “warp-speed journey through big-tent synth pop,” according to Pitchfork, but its real fixation is French electro’s sleazier edge: electroclash poses, distorted riffs, new-wave tension, and melodies built for the largest possible room. Mikiki’s opening question—“Was it always this rock?”—captures the record’s sharpest left turn.
The album’s exuberance is inseparable from its excess. “Hi!” and “Car Crash Baby” lean into bratty, cartoonish aggression; “Super Platinum” turns punk-funk swagger into a showcase for Erick the Architect; “Dancing on Your Grave” and “Somebody Else” restore the euphoric pop lift Madeon does best. Yet Pitchfork hears choices that can seem “straight-up corny,” a judgment that clarifies the album’s divisiveness: Victory often treats discernment as an obstacle to spectacle. Its mood is bright, confrontational, and knowingly overbuilt—less a polished evolution than a pop star kicking open the gates.
