This may be the most guiltiest and most pleasurable thing on this week's list. I have seriously been listening to Britney's Blackout all day for days now and I have to say, it can put you in a strange head space. It swings from vacant schlock (Heaven on Earth) that was made for reality show scenes where some rich and terrible person buys sunglasses or something to way too overstated raw sexuality.
It's pure trend pop and probably in the very worst sense of the word if you're not a fan. And if you're on the fence I almost don't even to tell you about “Everybody” where she whimpers and writhes all over Sweet Dreams by the Eurythmics grinding the once classic hit into something much, much sluttier. To my credit though, it's not my favorite track – that honor belongs to Freakshow, Oh Oh Baby, Gimme More, Piece of Me and Radar.
Genuine is not exactly the word you expect to be used to describe such blatantly clubby music, but the lyrics are written with the unsophisticated earnestness of a dumb teenager, well a dumb teenager with a crew of coked up back ground dancers egging her on, but the vulnerability of songs so obviously about her problems is almost sympathetic. I dare any girl to deny that there aren't tenth grade lyrics to heartbreak songs in her bedroom in their parent's home filled with lines like:
Lavish homes and fancy cars
Even got the drop Ferrari
Filled up our garage for you
Made your choice with all the teams
People and US Magazines
Tell me who'd I do that for, who?
Er, OK, so I guess it's not the most easy thing to relate to. The music does, after all come courtesy of a crazy person that leads a totally f-ed up life, but I stick by my claim that there's something honest about lyrics like
“I'm Mrs. 'Most likely to get on the TV for strippin' on the streets'
When getting the groceries, no, for real..
Are you kidding me?”
It's a funny album too. Any and all of the slowed down parts make me giggle, particularly when what sounds like a manly orca whale sings “me and the girls bout to get it on”. It also gives me a particular but undefined thrill to have a bunch of background singers yelling my name all the time in my earphones. “Brittany, let's go!” they always tell me.
I am really missing the big picture so far with this review though. While I have chosen to focus on the very strange whacked out person that shines through in the album, it's fair to say that for the most part this is all about getting freaky, out of control and naked and freaky (she uses the word a LOT throughout this thing). It's basically music made for dancing with your pussy out.