Brimming with glossy, hook-heavy pop, it marks a departure from her prior EP, The Provocateur, which was as brash sonically as it was visually (I mean, have you seen that cover?). On Prima, Adéla trades confrontation for charm, trying on the many pop lanes she could occupy — and clearly sees herself occupying.
The record opens with lead single "KGB", which sonically echoes her previous EP while introducing the playful self-mythologizing that defines Prima. The song offers a tongue-in-cheek account of how Adéla found herself in the Western pop machine, setting the tone for an album steeped in ambition, self-invention, and pop-princess aspiration: "I was, like, eight, working the nightshift to learn English / I’m like a spy, I studied this shit, call me the K-G-B*tch."
But Adéla is quick to clarify that she’s "not being cocky", she "just worked [her] whole life." And that part isn’t mythology. For all the comical exaggeration of "KGB", Adéla really has spent much of her life studying for pop stardom. She started classical ballet at 3, learned English through American media, absorbed "Hannah Montana" as an early lesson in fame, and concluded that, if stars were made anywhere, they were made in America. In the accompanying music video, Adéla is cast as everything from ballerina and dominatrix; by the end, she overpowers a KGB agent in a campy visualization of the calculation and determination required for her to infiltrate the industry.
Many listeners first met Adéla after she immigrated from Bratislava to Los Angeles to compete on "Dream Academy", the HYBE x Geffen survival show that would ultimately form global girl group KATSEYE. Though her singing, dancing, and performance skills consistently ranked among the strongest — and she was clearly beloved by her fellow contestants — Adéla was the first eliminated after finishing at the bottom of the fan vote. In the Netflix docuseries "Pop Star Academy: KATSEYE", HYBE x Geffen President Mitra Darab reflects on the decision: "We see Adéla as a solo artist. [...] When we saw the fan voting, we felt that they were seeing what we always knew."
In hindsight, Darab’s comment reads less as a consolation than a prophecy, and Adéla seems intent on fulfilling it. As she sings on "Nicole Kidman": "Everything you say, it dictates your destiny / That’s why I put 'pop princess' on my license plate." The song, in addition to its music video that nods to several of Nicole Kidman’s most iconic roles, is all about manifestation and the power of writing yourself into the life you want. Kidman becomes proof of concept: a symbol of reaching the point where your name alone becomes shorthand for a cultural archetype. Adéla’s melodies and lyricism slip into an Ariana Grande register, borrowing from her airy vocal stylings and the same self-fulfilling optimism that powered "Just Like Magic". Meanwhile, the production lands closer to Doja Cat’s spacious, low-end-driven pop/R&B sound.
However, Prima isn’t entirely interested in dressing Adéla in glamour and romance. On "Therapy", she drops the pose almost completely, airing resentment, insecurity, and self-awareness with impolite bluntness. She taps into a contrast long favored by Charli XCX, pairing emotionally raw lyrics with conspicuously processed vocals. Over a spare piano track, her voice warped by heavy auto-tune, she shares, "I wanna move my mom out here, but I don’t have that kind of money / So I have to talk to the people I have to talk to / They are old white men, and they’re so annoying / But they hold the keys to my future, so I have to do it anyway." For all Adéla’s talk of manifestation and destiny, "Therapy" acknowledges that she’s not always in control. Her most vulnerable confessions are, very literally, filtered through a machine before they reach us.
Co-executive producers Blake Slatkin and Dylan Brady make for a suspiciously perfect pairing within that push and pull. Slatkin brings the gloss and efficiency of a pop hitmaker, while Brady, best known as one-half of hyperpop duo 100 Gecs, keeps the polish from ever becoming too pristine.
Their respective strengths are most apparent on "Starving Artist", where a slick, trap-influenced groove is punctured by textural oddities around its edges, still leaving ample room for some of Adéla’s most infectious vocal stacking on the record. She sings about revisiting an old lover who still has the same apartment, the same empty bank account, and apparently enough going for him to make both of those details forgivable. Within the larger scope of the album, however, the song complicates Prima’s fixations on success by separating financial worth from the qualities that make someone worth wanting.
Album closer "Ain’t in LA" brings Adéla’s discussions of ambition full circle. She spent much of her childhood looking toward America as the place where stars were made; now, having made it there herself, she questions that idea entirely. The song insists talent, beauty, and magnetism exist far beyond the places equipped to recognize them, and Adéla doubles down on what she values most, exclaiming, "I’d rather be a nobody than to be like everyone."
This is a conviction she appears to have held even when she was the one being denied that recognition. At the time of her "Dream Academy" elimination, Adéla comforted her fellow contestants, saying, "None of you need this. If you get it, that’s great. But you don’t need it, because you’re great on your own." It’s an interesting philosophy for someone this openly ambitious; while the title Prima points to both her ballet background and her desire to become a leading force in pop, Adéla’s idea of being first never seems to require everyone else coming second.
"Ain’t in LA" became the first song by a Slovak artist to chart on the Billboard Hot 100, a fitting milestone for an artist who has built her career around refusing the limits placed in front of her.
From the pink hair and the pointe shoes to the daring sense of humor in her music, it’s clear Adéla would rather risk being ridiculous than risk being boring. She’s incredibly individual, yet she’s also deeply nostalgic for the music and culture she grew up studying. Prima sounds like someone determined not simply to find her lane, but to prove she can drive in all of them. Still, Adéla is keenly aware of the gap between who she is and who she wants to become. She never treats her present self as lesser, nor her progress as accidental. She is willing to credit herself for the work that got her here, and just as willing to admit how badly she wants what comes next. Adéla makes trying hard unexpectedly cool, and Prima makes ambition far less cringe than pretending to be above it.
