Imagine steeping into the spotlight when you’ve already lived most of your adult life under it. Fame is both a dream and a curse, and Jade’s debut album, That’s Showbiz Baby!, doesn’t just embrace that contradiction — it thrives on it. More than a collection of pop songs, it’s a commentary on performance itself: how much of the self is left when you’ve been turned into a spectacle, and what happens when you reclaim the spectacle for yourself.
For Jade Thirlwall, this is not a beginning but a reinvention. After a decade of stardom with Little Mix –chart-topping singles, sold-out tours, and a fanbase that grew up with her– she could have leaned on nostalgia. Instead, she throws herself into the fire with an album that’s flamboyant, ambitious, and proudly political. Jade gets it. Even if there are a lot of traditional elements in the structure of her batch of songs as a solo artist, pop music, the influence of genres linked to a more modern and underground sound is quite noticeable, and it's one of the features that makes That’s Showbiz Baby! one of the best pop albums of the year so far.
Jade has always been outspoken, whether standing up for Palestine and LGBTQ+ rights, calling out fatphobia and body shaming, or criticising UK politics and the treatment of women in the industry. That same fire burns through the LP, giving the glitter a sharp edge. It’s camp, it’s chaotic, but it’s also deeply aware of what it means to be a woman in pop today.
Musically, the album is a playground: electroclash, disco, synth-pop, theatrical balladry. Producers like Cirkut, Lostboy, and Mike Sabath help craft a maximalist world where every track feels like a costume change, yet Jade’s voice remains the anchor. Thematically, she moves between empowerment and fragility: sex, self-doubt, identity, and family — often in the same breath. Collaborations, like Ncuti Gatwa’s surreal cameo on Midnight Cowboy, add colour without stealing her spotlight.
The record opens with Angel of My Dreams, a kaleidoscopic introduction that samples Sandie Shaw’s Puppet on a String, and the song she launched her solo path conquering the hearts of thousands of new fans at the end of 2024. Its message about being pulled by the strings of fame doubles as a critique of how female artists are often treated like puppets in an industry run by men. Then IT Girl struts in as a disco banger, reclaiming the label often used to objectify women and flipping it into a declaration of power. FUFN (Fuck You For Now) channels fury into catharsis, a song that feels like it could be about an ex, a bad industry exec, or both.
Plastic Box slows the mood into a meditation on insecurity, addressing the pressure of body image and public scrutiny — issues Jade has spoken about openly. By naming the box she feels trapped in, she gestures toward the invisible rules women face about how to look, how to act, how to weigh their worth.
The middle section is the album’s richest. Midnight Cowboy is cinematic and strange, a duet of sorts that blurs gender boundaries and celebrates queerness without hesitation. Fantasy doubles down on camp disco excess, turning the dance floor into a queer utopia, a space where difference is celebrated. Then comes Unconditional, the album’s emotional core: written while her mother was in the hospital, it’s a bittersweet tribute wrapped in shimmering disco. Jade has said she wanted this track to merge vulnerability with spectacle, and that tension mirrors her political stance — finding strength in honesty, refusing to polish away the difficult feelings.
Later highlights include Self Saboteur, a brutally honest look at mental health, self-doubt, and the traps of perfectionism. Natural at Disaster is one of Jade’s fiercest performances, rumoured to hide a diss, but also an anthem about surviving difficulties — a sentiment that resonates beyond personal drama, into the broader political climate. Glitch toys with experimental textures, imitating the feeling of systems breaking down, while Before You Break My Heart reimagines The Supremes’ Stop! In the Name of Love as both nostalgic and radical: a nod to the women who paved the way, but sung in Jade’s voice as a reminder that the fight for women’s autonomy isn’t over. The closer, Silent Disco, is a comedown track that feels almost like protest in reverse: stripping away the noise, leaving us with quiet defiance.
What ties these songs together is Jade’s sense of theatre. That’s Showbiz Baby! is structured like a performance: camp and sincerity coexist, costume changes reveal deeper truths, and the line between persona and person is constantly blurred. But this isn’t just spectacle for spectacle’s sake. By weaving her own mind into her pop –her defiance against oppression, her solidarity with marginalised communities, her refusal to be silenced– Jade pushes against the expectation that women in music should be palatable or apolitical. She shows that pop can be challenging, radical, and deeply personal all at once.
And through it all, there is the voice. Jade has always been an extraordinary vocalist, but here she proves just how versatile she can be: playful and sharp on the bangers, tender and heart-wrenching on the ballads, fierce when the message demands it. It’s a voice that can carry both satire and sincerity, protest and pleasure, making every track feel lived-in. If Little Mix introduced us to her instrument, That’s Showbiz Baby! confirms it: Jade’s voice is one of the most expressive and commanding in modern pop, and we’re here to listen to what she needs to say and beautifully sing.