By Riley Caswell
There is something inherently interesting about KATSEYE calling their newest release WILD. Here is a global girl group, assembled through a Netflix reality competition show by two of the biggest global record labels, trained through an intensely manufactured pop system, now being sold as a concept built on identity and self-determination. If WILD is supposed to be KATSEYE unleashed, what exactly does being “wild” mean when every detail has already been constructed for them?
Released on August 14, WILD serves as KATSEYE’s third EP and follows their 2025 project, BEAUTIFUL CHAOS. The five-track record infuses elements of club-pop and R&B, alongside a deliberately chaotic production, with PINKY UP, Animal, Hootie Frutti, Bel Air, and That Way making up the main track list. A physical-copy, limited-edition bonus track Unloveu, gives member Lara Raj a particularly personal songwriting moment.
PINKY UP, the EP’s lead single, immediately establishes the record’s chaotic energy. Built around a sample of Da Hool’s 1997 track Meet Her at the Love Parade, it is a campy, ridiculous track which drew comparisons to their breakout hit Gnarly with its maximalist, almost hyper-pop sound. It feels designed for the internet—something to dance to, quote, meme, and inevitably scroll upon 30 times on your TikTok feed. Rather than hiding its commercial construction, the song almost makes a joke out of it, and that’s why it works.
Then came Animal, the EP’s second pre-released single. It is arguably the most conventional song on WILD, which makes sense as an Ed Sheeran-penned track, trading some of the wild-ness for a smoother, conventional pop sound. The group’s vocals are more showcased than the previous track, particularly when the members are allowed to separate themselves from the heavily layered production; however, the song can feel oddly safe compared with the more adventurous moments that sandwich it in the track list. Its polished romance narrative sits comfortably within mainstream pop, but it doesn’t quite leave the same impression as the stranger songs on the record.
Hootie Frutti is where WILD gets genuinely weird again. Its playful, hyperactive production and deliberately illogical title fit KATSEYE’s internet identity, once again drawing parallels to Gnarly in its absurdist lyrics, singing about matcha, Mount Valley water, and “the twenty-dollar smoothies in LA”. Inspired by Brazilian funk, even having a spoken-word Portuguese intro (despite having no member of Brazilian descent), Hootie Frutti certainly raises an uncomfortable question about how global pop borrows from different cultures. KATSEYE’s existence is built on cultural hybridity, so moments of cultural borrowing like this invite scrutiny rather than simply labelling them moments of fun, which is often the main defence of KATSEYE’s music.
Bel Air redirects the record to a more atmospheric approach. It is one of the EP’s softer moments, allowing the group’s vocals to sit further forward. But it also demonstrates one of WILD’s recurring problems. The production sometimes feels bigger than the songs themselves. It’s a perfectly serviceable song, but it also feels like it doesn’t move KATSEYE’s narrative forward. There are interesting ideas here, as you would expect from a 2013 Charli XCX demo, but they occasionally get buried beneath the expectation that every KATSEYE release must go instantly viral. Fun fact: Bel Air is the second song Charli XCX has co-written in KATSEYE’s discography, following Gabriela in 2025.
And then there’s That Way, the EP’s closing track.
Where some of WILD feels constructed around a concept, That Way feels comparatively effortless. The vocals glide across the track, the members’ personalities are more distinguishable, and the song doesn’t seem desperate to prove that KASTEYE are edgy. It reminds listeners that the group doesn’t necessarily need maximalist production or internet-bait lyrics to be interesting.
This is what ultimately makes WILD such a fascinating pop record. KATSEYE’s marketing has increasingly revolved around the girls’ authenticity, focusing on positively representing each culture the girls represent. But authenticity in pop has always been complicated—KATSEYE are not simply six girls making music in their bedrooms. They are the product of a massive machine, and WILD exists within that machine. The clothes, choreography, production, music videos, brand partnerships, and the idea of “wild” are all part of the project.
This doesn’t necessarily make everything fake.
In fact, this might be the most interesting way to understand KATSEYE. Their authenticity doesn’t have to revolve around escaping the machine. Perhaps it is about finding personality within it. Six performers can be carefully manufactured and still have genuine friendships, frustrations, and creative opinions. The relationships between those things are what makes the group compelling.
WILD sometimes feels like a collection of songs designed to satisfy an algorithm. Other times, it sounds like a group figuring out what kind of artists they want to become.
And maybe that’s enough.
KATSEYE doesn’t need to convince us that they are untamed. Pop has never really worked that way. WILD is most successful when it embraces the absurdity and excess of the genre, rather than pretending it doesn’t exist.
If anything, the real wildness of KATSEYE is not that they are trying to escape the machine; it’s that they are learning how to play with it.
