Lady Gaga's Museum of Mayhem

A tour through Lady Gaga's inspiration, imitation, and self references

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In 2015, Lady Gaga described TV creator Ryan Murphy as "unafraid to reference or not reference." Eight years later, that quote feels like a mission statement for her latest album, Mayhem, a record that turns referentiality into an art form. Listening to the album is like wandering through a meticulously curated museum where every sonic choice points to another artist, another era, or to Gaga herself.

This museum metaphor isn't just a convenient framing device; it's built into the album's DNA. Back in 2022, Gaga described her Chromatica Ball tour as a "Museum of Brutality," transforming the euphoric dance tracks of Chromatica into gothic spectacles. While that juxtaposition felt slightly dissonant (how do you make a song like "Rain On Me" brutal?), Mayhem fully embodies this darker, more referential approach.

So grab your audio headset and comfortable shoes. We're taking you on a guided tour through the halls of Gaga's musical museum, where each wing showcases a different aspect of her artistic universe.

The Inspiration Wing

Our first stop is "Killah," a track that's essentially a collage of '80s references assembled with surgical precision. The song's guitar riff directly channels David Bowie's "Fame," while the verse melody borrows the cadence from Prince's "Sign O' The Times." Prince's influence continues with falsetto vocals and LinnDrum percussion that could have been lifted straight from "Kiss."

What makes "Killah" so fascinating isn't just the references themselves, but how they're layered. Both "Killah" and "Fame" start on the second beat of the measure, creating that same anticipatory pause before the title lyric hits. It's the kind of subtle detail that rewards close listening.

The song's latter half takes a sharp turn when techno DJ Gesaffelstein enters the picture, cranking up the BPM and venturing into industrial territory that wouldn't sound out of place on a Nine Inch Nails record.

Moving deeper into the inspiration wing, we encounter "Perfect Celebrity," which tackles Gaga's favorite theme: fame and its discontents. While the lyrical focus on celebrity isn't new (see "Paparazzi," "The Fame," and "Applause"), the sonic palette draws heavily from industrial pioneers like Nine Inch Nails and Depeche Mode. The verses evoke Depeche Mode's "Mercy In You," while the chorus explodes into thrashy '90s grunge that showcases Gaga's rock vocals, talents she previously displayed when performing with Metallica at the 59th Grammy Awards.

The Hall of Imitation

As we turn a corner in our museum tour, we enter a fascinating wing dedicated not to Gaga's influences, but to those she has influenced and her knowing acknowledgment of them.

"Vanish Into You" features wistful synths and tragic love themes that wouldn't sound out of place on a Chappell Roan album. It makes perfect sense that Gaga would nod to Chappell; after all, Gaga brought drag aesthetics into mainstream pop, paving the way for artists like Chappell to emerge. The song feels like what might happen if Chappell Roan collaborated with the Weeknd on a Max Martin production, a sonic Venn diagram with Gaga positioned perfectly at the center.

But the exhibit generating the most buzz in this wing is undoubtedly "How Bad Do U Want Me," which bears such striking similarities to Taylor Swift's work that it can only be intentional. The song features all the hallmarks of Swift's collaborations with Jack Antonoff: '80s programmed drums, sustained bass notes, and those one-note staccato repeated melodies that Swift has made her signature.

The lyrical parallels are equally striking. Where Swift sings about having "that good girl faith in a tight little skirt" on "Style," Gaga flips the script with "you like the bad girl I got in me." The reference becomes impossible to ignore when you compare the opening seconds of "How Bad Do You Want Me" with Swift's "Gorgeous."

Rather than a case of unconscious influence, this reads as Gaga's deliberate tribute to a fellow pop titan. It's as if Gaga created a demo for Swift but decided to keep it for herself, delivering what feels like an adult version of Swift's often adolescent-oriented approach.

The Self-Referential Gallery

At the heart of our museum lies its most revealing wing: an exhibition where Gaga references herself, creating a meta-commentary on her own artistic evolution.

"Zombieboy" serves as a perfect case study. The track opens with a chant that recalls Gwen Stefani's "Hollaback Girl," but it also functions as a spiritual successor to "Summerboy" from Gaga's debut album. This creates a fascinating double reference: "Summerboy" channeled early Stefani and No Doubt's ska sensibilities, while "Zombieboy" references later-stage solo Stefani. It's reference-inception, a nod within a nod.

The self-referential quality extends throughout the album, often in ways only die-hard Little Monsters would catch. "Shadow of a Man" evokes a fan-favorite demo called "Nothing On But the Radio," while "Garden of Eden" reworks elements from "Private Audition," a Fame-era demo produced by Rodney "Darkchild" Jerkins. Most tellingly, "Garden of Eden" contains melodic echoes of "Bad Romance," creating a through-line across different eras of Gaga's career.

Even "Perfect Celebrity" is littered with references to past Gaga tracks like "Plastic Doll," "The Fame," and "Princess Di" (one of her most notorious scrapped demos). It's as if Gaga is threading together her entire musical history, released albums, unreleased demos, and all, into a single cohesive statement.

The Central Atrium: "Abracadabra"

Our museum tour culminates in a grand central space dominated by the album's standout track, "Abracadabra." This song functions as the skeleton key that unlocks the entirety of Gaga's artistic DNA, combining elements from throughout her career into a single dazzling showcase.

Every single part of the song is a hook, and it leverages all of Gaga's signature elements. The production incorporates classic house music foundations (the Korg M1 piano and TR-909 drum machine that defined tracks like Madonna's "Vogue") alongside acid house basslines. Vocally, Gaga deploys her full arsenal: her sung voice, her operatic high notes reminiscent of Born This Way cuts like "Government Hooker" and "Bloody Mary," and her spoken drag-queen delivery.

The nonsensical chorus continues a tradition established in her earliest hits. As any Gaga scholar knows, chorus nonsense equals success in the Gaga universe: "Ra-ra-ah-ah-ah" in "Bad Romance," "muh-muh-muh-mah" in "Poker Face," and now "Abracadabra".

Even the music video reinforces the museum concept, opening with a ballroom competition where "the category is Dance or Die," a reference to the ballroom culture that has informed Gaga's work since the beginning and her consistent framing of her tours as "balls." The visual aesthetic, with its latex suits and demonic imagery, finally delivers on that "Museum of Brutality" concept that felt somewhat mismatched with Chromatica.

Exit Through the Gift Shop

As we complete our tour of Gaga's museum, we're left with an album that's both deeply nostalgic and surprisingly fresh. Mayhem succeeds not despite its referential nature but because of it. By weaving together these diverse threads, from Bowie and Prince to Swift and Chappell Roan, from The Fame to Born This Way to Artpop, Gaga creates a musical tapestry that celebrates the continuum of pop while asserting her unique place within it.

It's the most postmodern Gaga record yet, turning the entire history of pop music (including her own contributions) into raw material for creative reinvention. Being "unafraid to reference or not reference" isn't just a cute quote; it's a philosophy that positions Gaga as both student and teacher of pop history, capable of synthesizing disparate influences into something distinctively her own.

If the best museums invite repeated visits, with each tour revealing new connections and insights, then Mayhem is Gaga's MoMA, or perhaps more accurately, her "MoMA-ma-ma." We'll see ourselves out.