Katy Perry is no punchline, roars back at thrilling N.J. concert. ‘I know who I am.’

The last time Katy Perry played New Jersey, for two sold-out nights on her dazzling “Prism World Tour” in 2014, she sat atop the pop music food chain — a ferocious hitmaker no less popular than Lady Gaga, Beyonce or Taylor Swift.

But 11 years later, the California star’s “Teenage Dream” dominance feels more like a fever dream. While Gaga, Bey and Taylor continued their ascents toward indomitable cultural icons, Perry’s stock plummeted amid a trio of poorly received, artistically bankrupt albums in “Witness” (2017), “Smile” (2020) and “143,” (2024). Her most recent record was panned for its humdrum dance-pop machinations and choice to work again with controversial producer Dr. Luke, who is now best-known as the alleged abuser of Perry’s fellow early ‘10s star Kesha.

The album’s accompanying “Lifetimes World Tour,” which kicked off its five-continent run in April, has become a mean-spirited punchline online, drawing headlines for its imperfections: dangerous mid-air prop malfunctions and a fan collapsing after they were brought on stage. Behind the scenes, Perry, 40, split from her husband, actor Orlando Bloom, earlier this summer.

Katy Perry performs at Prudential Center in Newark, N.J. on her “The Lifetimes” tour. Aug. 14, 2025.

From a distance, it would appear it’s been a trying year (or years) for Perry. But up close, at a packed Prudential Center in Newark Thursday night, Perry was no worse for the wear. She delivered a top-flight arena spectacle, built around a narrative portraying Perry as a futuristic “Wonder Woman”-adjacent fighter named KP-143, battling “Mainframe,” an AI villain who’d taken over the world (and stolen all the butterflies). Interludes played on the collage of jumbo screens (think early ‘00s MTV Video Music Awards stage) showing Perry “leveling up” and gaining “hearts” to grow stronger like a video game character.

While not especially compelling, the story was family-friendly, well-suited for the millennial moms and their hordes of children, who comprised much of the cheering crowd.

“I haven’t been on a world tour in eight years, and these kids are eight years old — you have no idea who I am,” Perry deadpanned, before bringing four fans (three little girls and a 27-year-old man in a cow costume) on stage to shake egg-shakers to “The One that Got Away.” Perry treated them all with warmth and humor, urging them to follow their dreams to be a teacher, cosmetologist or, in cow guy’s instance, to continue his hard work as a professional accountant.

The star spent most of her two-hour show traversing the arena-spanning stage ramps, which formed an enormous infinity symbol (iconography from “143”). Her torrent of hits — nine No. 1 singles is still rarified air — and new tracks were met with acrobatic stunts; “Nirvana” was performed in full flight, flipping and soaring around the arena on cables, shades of P!nk.

For her 2008 breakthrough single “I Kissed a Girl,” she entered a cage-like metal sphere that lifted her and some male dancers above the crowd. She hung upside down as she belted and her glitter-covered fans shrieked along. And for “Roar,” she rode an oversized butterfly, now free from Mainframe’s clutches after she’d fired a flamethrower arm device at the screen a few minutes earlier, during “Rise.”

It was a night of high-saturation pop maximalism, of sugary sing-alongs (“California Gurls,” “Firework,” “Teenage Dream”), cotton-candy costumes — literally, she pulled some cotton off her boots to give to fans — and descents into Perry’s goofy, ping-pong mind.

“If you’re trying to follow what I’m saying during this show, just stop,” Perry joked, not long before she fought a troop of creepy ghouls (her dancers) with a lightsaber during “E.T.” Why, exactly? Don’t worry about it.

Perry did find moments for humanity, dedicating her new ballad “All the Love” to all the moms in attendance and her own five-year-old daughter, Daisy. She also rolled out a “Teenage Dream” deep cut “Pearl,” which she noted was a song about “desperately trying to hold onto your power.”

That preface felt telling at this stage of Perry’s career, as she clings to shreds of mainstream relevance, likely entering her greatest-hits era. But hey, she still knows how to build an engrossing, can’t-look-away pop extravaganza, and no matter what dissenters say online, she’s not going anywhere.

During “Part of Me,” she yelled emphatically: “They can say what they want, I know who I am.”