Circus

admin — Mon, 29 Dec 2008 00:22:00 +0000

In a past life, I put Brit-Brit tracks on my iPod for the gym. Manufactured sounds make my booty shake, and no matter how high-minded I may be about independent music, I can appreciate pop anthems and radio hits. In my present state, I have compassion for the ubiquitous starlet, her public breakdowns, and her compulsive need to set the record straight in her own tangled way. The spotlight is a heat lamp. Wouldn’t you act a little wonky if you were living under a fry warmer?

Circus is an album for a very specific audience, despite its mass market appeal. If you do not have a deep, abiding love for Auto-Tune, you probably already know Britney albums are not for you. It’s been ten years since the scantily clad Mouseketeer showed up, breathless as she sang “Baby, One More Time…” and hijacked public discourse about virginity, fame, the South—and later, failed marriages, and negligent parenting. Unlike her predecessors in pop stardom, like Madonna, we have had a front row seat—via celebrity gossip blogs and trashy magazines—to every Spears mishap. If everyone were watching, wouldn’t you feel like you were in the center ring, too?

Circus is like most other albums by the erstwhile Mrs. Federline, marked by several tolerable chart-toppers and a lot of filler. “Womanizer” seeks to apply the repetitive syllable formula of hits like Rihanna’s “Umbrella” and Flo Rida’s “Elevator,” and in the same way, it retains the addictive quality of dancing in front of a strobe light. “Circus” uses the same formula while explaining, “There’s only two types of guys out there/Ones that can hang with me and ones that are scared.” “Kill The Lights” finds the Britster talking to the paparazzi about her “close-up,” wondering, “Is that money in your pocket or [are] you happy to see me?” I wonder if this is a nod to her paparazzo-ex who has mysteriously disappeared below the Mexican border. Are we to believe she (or more likely, her handlers) killed the lights on their affair and perhaps his sleazy photog career? Like I said, it gets bright under the lamps.

Remember when you learned about syllables in elementary school and they made you clap the word as you enunciated? There’s something about pop music that throws this clapping-syllable relationship out the window. Spears reminds us of this common affliction on “Shattered Glass,” which ends up as a choppy “gla-ee-yas.” Glass: one. Gla-ee-yas: one, two three. See the problem?

The most disturbing track is “Blur,” which plods along without rhythm and seems to be about date rape, if not a horribly disempowering sexual encounter (depending, of course, on who you ask).

Can’t remember what I did last night
Maybe I shouldn’t have given in, but I just couldn’t fight
Hope I didn’t, but I think I might have
Everything, everything is still a blur.

It may be a metaphor for the confusing glare of fame, but Britney’s troubled past also finds ways of resurfacing in her music and her everyday exploits. I’m happy our girl has put her underwear back on—literally and figuratively, I suppose—and headed back to the studio, but you should only pick up Circus if you need a new shiny coaster for a sweaty can of soda or really like to deconstruct celebrity culture by drowning in it. Reading about Britney is enough of a circus for me. I can pass on the musical interpretation.

Written by: Brittany Shoot, December 28th 2008

Blackout

admin — Mon, 05 Nov 2007 13:19:00 +0000

By Britney Spears

Jive Records

Few will want to admit it, and even fewer actually will, but Britney Spears' Blackout is a scintillating, effervescent slice of post-millennium pop that will be a guilty pleasure for many in the coming months. Say what you will about the circumstances of Spears' personal life, which have certainly exceeded the threshold of outlandish, but those circumstances have no effect on her splashy radio and club-ready formula. Troubles or not, her music remains as sweet and caloric as candy corn, appealing to the hyperactive kid in all pop listeners.

Of course, Spears is not exactly a "force" to be reckoned with in the music industry in terms of legendary musical talent; Tony Bennett or Celine Dion she will never be. This is also not music for thinking people, but then with song titles like "Hot As Ice" and "Ooh Ooh Baby" that is more than implied. However, these facts alone do not invalidate Spears. The star quality that has endeared her to listeners time and time again is strong as ever on Blackout—one listen and it's hard to imagine these songs being performed by anyone else. Fitting her racy image to a T and never failing to deliver catchy, breathy pop hooks, they are as devilish as they are listenable.

On the biographical side of things, "Piece of Me" is a cheeky smorgasbord of self-referential (or self-aggrandizing, depending on how you look it) anecdotes smothered in chunky electro beats, while the Pharrell Williams-penned "Why Should I Be Sad?" provides an appropriate closer to a collection of songs otherwise grounded in levity with its bittersweet, resilient attitude set against the by now predictable (though nonetheless enjoyable) production work of the Neptunes.

"Gimme More," the set's lead single and Spears' highest chart feature on the Billboard Hot 100 since 1999, is one of the less notable tracks here compared to the trippy, atypical wordplay that marks "Radar" and the downright infectious "Get Naked (I Got a Plan)," a surefire highlight. Hi-NRG beats pulse throughout selections, such as the dancefloor-ready "Heaven On Earth" and "Toy Soldier," which has enough kitschy fun for a cult '80s flick.

Throughout the collection Spears is the ultimate seductress, oozing sex appeal and passion. By the time she coos "you make me feel so hot" throughout the lush "Perfect Lover," the second to last track, it's impossible to doubt her. May she now be a bonafide pop siren in the same league as Kylie Minogue? Possibly.

Jailhouse visits and custody hearings aside, Spears gives listeners reason for hope with Blackout, easily her best and definitely her most intriguing outing to date, even when factoring in her 2004 hits compilation. Oddly enough, she has never sounded more comfortable in her own skin, making this album feel like a debut. Gone are the artistic pretensions that marred her last two albums (she is a performer, not a songwriter), and her material has taken a major upgrade in class. This music is able to self-sustain without the aid of shock value or infamous MTV kissing scene stunts because in and of itself it is purely entertaining. All she needs is for her image to correspond, and she will have her life as well as her career back on track.

Written by: Rudy Palma, November 5th 2007