Begging to F. U. C...
I went to the store specifically to make this purchase, but I really didn't want to be seen doing it. So I wound my way through clothing, shoes, and lip gloss before heading to the back. I spotted my prize, snatched it up, then turned it so that no one could see the front, and clutched it close to my body. Then I went through the self-checkout line before racing to my car, and tearing into my brand new Britney Spears cd like a rat through a cheese wrapper. Gimme! Gimme more!
Circus. And in the words of the Pop Princess herself, "Oh mah gawd, y'all!" This is a damned good album. I clarify that to say, this is a damned good dance album, and I don't mind telling you that If You Seek Amy may very well be my new favorite song.
So there's all you need to know about my musical taste, right?
Why is it good, though? I was asking myself that question. Would these songs have been just as good if sung by an artist with fewer...issues? Because, honestly, I feel like I am exploiting a little developmentally delayed girl by buying Britney's album, but where else am I going to get a straight fix of explosive pop rhythms like this? No one else does Britney but Britney. And what does Britney do?
Britney wears dance music like Giselle Bunchen wears bras. She is the perfect model for dance. Her voice is an odd mix of growl and kewpie doll, and somehow she manages to hold her own without ever being overpowered by the thump and throb of the music behind her, and without ever feeling the need to compete. She just sings it.
Maybe it is because she isn't quite right, so it goes completely over her head, but Britney is never intimidated or even pulsed by the beat. She knows her job is to sing. She sings. When the song calls for cheeky, she gives you cheeky. When the song calls for angry, she gives you angry. When the song calls for sweet--the child can't really carry a pretty tune, but there is something in her voice that works, and she is the ultimate clothes hanger for musical emotion.
I don't believe for a second that she understands half of what she is singing, but she doesn't need to as long as she's got Larry Rudolph instructing in her headphones, "Okay, Bit-bit, this one is sad. Can you be sad?"
I love it. And now that it is safely in my cd player and no one can see it, I don't mind telling you how awesome it is to car dance down the road, singing along to Kill the Lights.
