'Dangerous Woman' is an irresistable trip through Ariana Grande's latex rabbit hole

On the 4th of July, Ariana Grande declared her own independence during a fateful trip to a modest doughnut shop, licking the pastries and shouting “I hate America!” while a security camera caught her every move. 

For many, it was the first indicator that whatever is going on underneath Grande's ponytail is far more complex than the average child-actor-turned-pop-superstar story. 

We've seen meltdowns, but nothing this delightfully strange or harmless — all respect to the fine people of Wolfee Donuts, whose merchandise was tragically compromised with Grande's saliva. As far as scandals go, Doughnutgate was quite literally sweet as sugar. Grande's bizarre apologies in the aftermath only helped feed the increasingly compelling mythology of Ariana, who, if rumors are to be believed, demands being carried around like a baby.

On Dangerous Woman, Grande is definitely not an infant. She's letting her "bad bitch Super Bunny" within call the shots, and the appeal of her her black latex rabbit hole is undeniable. If you're looking to soundtrack your summer night mischief, Ari's got some bangers for you. 

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The album starts out somewhat deceptively with "Moonlight," a retro love song that references James Dean and Elvis. Her candy-coated vocals will remind you that Grande can provide that Mini Mariah, peppy Lana del Rey service on autopilot.

On Dangerous Woman's sultry title track, everything starts falling into place as she immediately informs you, "Don't need permission/Made my decision to test my limits." 

Grande is quick to acknowledge that she's not ready to grow up completely yet, nor does she feel any need to rush into it — so at 22, she's right on track. Sometimes she feels like a dangerous woman, but she's still figuring her shit out, as she should be. 

It's something fellow 22-year-old megastar Justin Bieber (who is finally achieving respect as an artist) is in crisis mode right now trying to work though. Anyone growing up in the public eye is required to turn their transition into adulthood as a performance — a magic trick where a fresh-faced teen turns into an adult after a few seconds hidden behind a cape. 

In February 2016, GQ published a cover story titled, “Justin Bieber Would Like to Reintroduce Himself.” Two months later, the magazine ran a profile of Selena Gomez called “The Emancipation of Selena Gomez.”

There are some concrete ways a line can actually be drawn — the 18th birthday of a starlet is the public’s go-ahead to openly objectify the teenager they’ve been objectifying all along. Never forget the horrifying website counting down to the Olsen twins' age of consent.

But achieving a passable level of adulthood is not the sort of thing that is curated between album cycles — it's an excruciating process of self-examination, often in the clarity of morning light. It's when you realize blaming your own immature behavior on childhood obesity is ludicrous and you apologize for your botched first attempt at an apology.

Your twenties are defined by falling on your face, not sudden maturity. As the slow march of time threatens to speed up, you swipe through possible lives like Snapchat filters. You won't be a puppy forever, but if you can be a puppy for ten seconds, seize the opportunity. And so, on Dangerous Woman, Grande's animal ears remain, but now they're sexy animal ears.  

And club wear is an appropriate choice as Grande commits more fully to a slick EDM-lite sound that she debuted on My Everything. Grande worked with Swedish mastermind producers Ilya Salmanzadeh and Max Martin to craft the majority of the record's persistent pop sheen this time around. 

Even with the magic touch of some of the most omnipresent producers in the industry, it's hard to imagine anyone else pulling together this group of collaborators. Ariana, after all, has always been just as natural duetting with Andrea Bocelli and Iggy Azalea.

Future and Lil Wayne contribute verses to Dangerous Woman, with Weezy bidding, "goodbye to the good girl." On "Side to Side," she reunites with Nicki Minaj, which Grande told the crowd at a show May 18 just before the album's release, was inspired by SoulCycle, naturally.

The best — and most surprising — feature comes from Macy Gray on the soulful "Leave Me Lonely," a hangover of a love song that serves as the album's emotional center. 

But for the most part, Grande seems pretty psyched — especially at the prospect of making mistakes. 

"Bad Decisions" achieves a glee that's rare even in pop music. "Ain't you ever seen a princess be a bad bitch?" she asks scoffing at anyone who underestimates her as she seems to glide through the world in a pink cloud, and it's an important question.

In Grande's world, femininity is never a weakness and her claws come out whenever that world view is challenged. 

In its spirt, Dangerous Woman, and Grande's whole deal, is a firm demand for respect. Since her Nickelodeon days, her talent has been a force to be reckoned with. How many singers get compared to the likes of Mariah Carey as a teenager? And if she ever decides she's over being a diva, her talent for impressions puts the bulk of Saturday Night Live's current cast to shame. 

For an artist with as many options as she does, these choices are meaningful and for now, Grande sees to be asking who will dare to tell her she can't have it all. She doesn't have to abandon tenderness for strength or youth for wisdom if she doesn't want to. And when that's challenged, Ariana is going to put up a fight. 

The fact that Grande keeps the strangest parts of her personality hidden in her music is frustrating, but brilliant. Grande is in it for the long-term, and if you try to threaten that, well, you can't say she didn't warn you.