Adéla Isn’t Afraid To Be A Little Ugly

The small-town girl with big-time dreams of fame is a well-worn trope, both in real life and on the silver screen. Adéla (born Adéla Jergová) knows all about the feeling of wanting what you can’t have — namely, an American pop career. The 21-year-old Slovakian learned English at age 9 from Hannah Montana, High School Musical, and Shake It Up — when she dials in from her Los Angeles home to speak with me, there’s a Shake It Up vinyl proudly displayed on her bookshelf — and immediately knew pop stardom was the goal. The best of both worlds, as it were, were not available to a tween living in Russia, so she studied classical ballet. Even though she was dancing circles around her classmates, she tells NYLON: “I had this thought of ‘I feel like I’m going to do music anyway.’ I have something to say and all of this personality, so it has to go somewhere. I can’t just dance.”

Enter Pop Star Academy, a story any Katseye or Netflix fan might be familiar with. Adéla was chosen as one of 20 to enter the training program, and after she was quickly dismissed, a dark professional and personal time ensued. On the other end of that was not despair, but rather a fire under her. “I had this show looming over me, and I was like, ‘I’m going to have the most eyes on me I’ve ever had. Somebody’s going to look me up and find a cool song I made, and I’ll get a new fan.’” A Grimes-produced song and a bold new look (thanks to some excellent pink hair dye) quickly got her said fans and set her apart from other girl-group rejects, thanks to her commitment to, in her words, “wanting to branch out, be weird, and do whatever.”

Superstar stylist and pop-star whisperer Chris Horan reached out and found a mutual fan in Adéla, and he is now working as her creative director. The two worked on the visuals for her scintillating new EP, The Provocateur. “It’s easy to do the fashion because everything is so strongly laid out before it even reaches me,” Horan tells NYLON. “We both have a love and obsession with past pop icons, so we try to layer in Easter eggs.” Horan pushed Adéla to embrace her roots as an Eastern European professionally trained ballerina, leaning into the severe look of Slovak ravers and early 2000s supermodels. The result is strikingly new, with tight dancerly outfits and archival pieces allowing her hollowed cheeks, bleached brows, and sexy pout to take over.

Sex, along with celebrity and fame, are all on the menu on The Provocateur. Adéla has a Baudrillardian sense of the systems at play in crafting modern fame, having gone through the strictures of ballet and pop-star training, and yet ultimately rejects them. Most refreshingly, Adéla embraces the weird and unusual. Contorted faces, weird body angles, and conventionally unflattering fashion take her from pretty girl to intriguing, layered pop star. The flat-out horny moans on the EP’s highlight “SexOnTheBeat” find a visual counterpoint in writhing, twerking, and performing all for the camera — or so it seems. Her winks and nods to subverting and acceding modern sexuality and performative dance — the lyrics “Give me rage, I give (sex on the beat) / Give me stage, I give (sex on the beat) / Give me cage, I give (sex on the beat)” stand out — are some of the most nuanced of the year, and admirable for someone born in 2005. After idolizing the pedestal society places stars on, she’s finally clawing her way onto it — not without taking a leak at the base first.

Before the world knows more about the star on the rise, NYLON called Adéla to chat about her beginnings, her relationship with celebrity, and the freedom of looking a little ugly sometimes.

There’s a theme of restriction and freedom in your life. You had the structure of ballet then the structure of Pop Star Academy. Did you feel like you needed moments on your own to figure out who you were as a creative?

Yeah, absolutely. It’s so layered because I’m from a small Eastern European country. I’m objectively — without trying to sound arrogant — an attractive white woman. I haven’t had it the hardest whatsoever. There is a sense of inferiority when you come from a small country. I kept my dreams a secret as a kid because I didn’t feel like people believed somebody from Slovakia could achieve something on a large scale. It’s never been done before. Going into Pop Star Academy — even though I already knew this about myself from ballet — I felt like I could find creative freedom going into the show. I was like, “This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, and I’m willing to do anything — sacrifice my identity, whatever — to make it.” But as it was going on, I was like, “I don’t think I am, and I don’t think I should.” I’m not knocking that at all. It works for some people, and some people are happy in that dynamic. I don’t think I should be a follower because of where I come from. I think I should have creative freedom and not give a f*ck.

How has your relationship with fame and celebrity changed over time?

I’ve been subjected to the audience part of it right away. It wasn’t gradual, like “Oh, you’re going viral, and you’re gaining attention.” It’s like, “No, you’re on Netflix, and let me edit your story.” Everybody has a perception, and it happened very quickly. That was a rude awakening and a big shock to the system. But because it was so sudden, it prepared me for dealing with the perception of people around the world that don’t know me. To me, it’s stupid to think I should give anyone’s opinion any sort of weight, because they were not there. They’re not in my life and they don’t know me. That was very easy to figure out because I have a strong sense of self and I was like, “OK, this is what actually happened, so f*ck you guys.”

What were your initial conversations like with your team about the EP’s visuals?

The blessing of having nobody to help me from the start is that it was truly all on me to figure it out and make videos. I knew that was a really important part, because people want to see me dance. I’m a really good dancer — that sounds arrogant, but, I’ve worked a lot.

You;re objectively a great dancer.

I knew the songs needed visuals, so I had to carve it out on my own. When you look back to the “Homewrecked” visualizer — that is so terrible by the way, because that’s what it had to be — it was literally me, Emily, and one more person shooting and editing it. You can see the start of it. I’ve always been told, even in my performances, “It’s a little too much. You need to tone it down, in terms of sexiness and facial expressions.” Through the training, I realized a lot of things didn’t work for me, which is such a blessing as an artist. I am a great dancer, but I’m also tall, lanky, and a weird shape for a dancer. I like moving weirdly. I love quirky movements, and it excites me. I don’t personally express myself in an aesthetically pleasing, trained way.

I don’t think I should be a follower because of where I come from. I think I should have creative freedom and not give a f*ck.

I was watching a lot of music videos when I was planning out my project. I was like, “What are the visuals I’ve loved through the years, and what are the ones that feel like me if I did them?” I compiled mood boards and essays about what it should be and why, really digging deep. Then Chris came in, and he was so smart for wanting to involve more with my Eastern European heritage, like Brutalist spaces and post-Communist and Communist architecture. There’s something really fabulous about that. It’s this quote-unquote “ugly in Western standards” vibe, but it also honors my heritage. I think it's cool as f*ck. We started playing with that and Eastern European rave culture. I have this book he gave me about the parties they used to throw back in the day and what they would wear, and it’s so interesting. We started integrating that more, and the fact that I’m a weird Eastern European girl that makes pop music.

It’s really smart. It ties into the unconventional way you want to dance and move.

It’s me rejecting a lot of what I’ve been historically in my life. The training has been all about perfection, and perfection is something that stresses me the f*ck out. I cannot feel free when I’m trying to be perfect and not make an ugly face or shape with my body. I associate that with a lot of stress, and it’s not attainable. When I was watching myself perform in ballet or in K-pop training, I could see my lack of comfortability. I was wanting to branch out, be weird, and do whatever.

I love and appreciate that. I wish more pop stars weren’t afraid to get ugly. I think it’s more approachable for fans.

It’s more human. Somebody that’s doing that so well right now is Audrey Hobert. The way she moves in her videos is so ugly, and I mean that as the highest compliment. It’s embracing your humanness, and I’m a human. I’m not going to be perfect. That’s what I mean. People on the Internet comment on my looks, and I’m like, “Dude, I’m human. Sometimes I f*cking don’t look that good. Have you ever had a bad picture taken of you?” I appreciate artists like Audrey. I watched her “Thirst Trap” video the other day, and it’s so f*cking well done. She’s embracing the quirkiness of being a girl and being a human.

What do want your fans to take away from your EP?

I want to inspire a thought and not necessarily a clear message. It interests me to see what people think, because that tells me about where we are and who’s watching my videos. I want to observe their reactions. I hope they take away anything and that it starts a conversation about any of the topics I go through. I want people to know that I’m never going to not be myself. I mean, I’m literally peeing on the cover. I love to hear what people have to say and if they disagree on certain topics, or how they interpret my lyrics and music videos. It’s quite harsh, and that’s why it’s the Provocateur Tour. It’s a little uncomfortable sometimes. I want to see where we can push it.

The gays will always be there for you because at the end of the day, it is just really good pop music.

Thank God the gays will be there for me. I do it all for the girls and the gays.