Femme Fatale Review

Disclaimer: before I begin, I have to admit two things: I don't go to clubs and I'm not a musical elitist (and you can take that to mean I have bad taste in music if you wish). I mention the first part mainly so people know off the bat I'm not going to say this album will be hot in the clubs, because I'm not there. I could assume, but I'd rather not. I think the second part speaks for itself.

Where does one begin a review of a Britney Spears album? If I were being paid to write this I'd probably spend a paragraph or two talking about the actual music (to trick the reader into thinking I bothered to really listen to the album) before using the entire middle of the review to talk about her personal life. Then I'd end by pointing out how people in the clubs will love the album. However, since I'm not being paid, I'll try and stick to the music.
Femme Fatale sounds like every Britney album ever recorded and like nothing she's ever recorded. How? Simple, since she's singing it (and, yes, she does sing) and doing her trademark coos and groans and come-ons, it sounds like Britney. But when you get past that, it sounds like nothing else.
It is both an album of been-there-done-that and been-where-done-what. The familiar feeling comes from it forcing the listener to get on the dance floor; the new sensation is how it gets the listener on the dance floor. An album with both whistling and flutes is not one easily dismissible as the same-old same-old.
When you review an album you can't help but talk about how the album came to be. Many critics are quick to point out that producers Max Martin and Dr. Luke run the show, and label the album as nothing more than their toy. In this case, the toy is a jack-in-the-box. But when you wind it up, Britney pops out, does a number, then goes back inside. See, many critics want the reader to think Britney's being controlled and that she just records whatever is in front of her.
I say, as Homer Simpson would say, nuts to that. How do I know Britney doesn't just pop out when called upon? I study my history (and I don't mean the Spanish-American War). This history only goes back 13 years to when Britney first stepped her dainty little toes onto the American stage. It goes back to "Baby One More Time;" not the song, but the video. It's been documented time and again that the original concept was much different than what was actually filmed. It was most likely terrible. But Britney stepped up to the plate and made some key adjustments (namely everything), creating a classic video that has stood the test of time.
That's not the only time Britney has taken the reigns. There have been many instances where Britney's been in control. This is, at the end of the day, her music. Femme Fatale is her album. If it fails it's on her head, not Max and Luke's.
Therefore, to say she's just an instrument producers use to try stuff out on, means she doesn't care. If she didn't care she wouldn't keep making music. Britney doesn't shout from the rooftops about all the things she does, but make no mistake, she does a lot.
On Femme Fatale she amps up the bass (with help from Will.i.am), the beats, and any and all things starting with the letter B (and practically every letter). The most amazing thing about Britney is how she brings herself to every song. Regardless of how processed her voice is, the producers can't get rid of her. And on some songs, like (Drop Dead) Beautiful and Seal it With a Kiss, her voice is very processed. Regardless, it's her.
And it's amazing. For the most part, the album is fantastic. You spend the entire duration bobbing your head, singing along or flat-out dancing. If the lyrics are meaningless, who said they were supposed to be meaningful. Britney has said time and again that she loves to dance. This album will get you dancing (and if you're bothered by the lyrical content (or lack thereof), perhaps you're listening to the wrong album).
I can't say it's the best album Britney's ever recorded (need more listens for that), but it immediately gets in your head and builds a home. "Till the World Ends" and "Hold it Against Me" blow the album up, and once you reach "I Wanna Go" you'll wanna go somewhere with a lot of room to scream, yell and dance. Best part: like Blackout, the album never lets up. All you get is more: bass, treble and tricks
The second best part: the album is 99 percent Britney with only two collaborators. Many albums nowadays feature the artist and 100 other people. Britney always gives you Britney. Love her or hate her, you never have to wonder whose album it is.
By the end of the deluxe edition, Britney throws a rock song at you. Maybe it's not actually rock, but it features guitars and drums (probably not actual guitars and drums, though). Point being that she's up for anything. And so are the producers. That's why Britney's never boring and always keeps you on your toes.
She leaves her personal life at the door when she enters the studio. And when you listen to Femme Fatale, you should, too. Appreciate it for what it is, because it's quite good at it.

The Story of Britney Spears

Has Britney Spears become complacent?
She told V Magazine that she gets sent songs from all over the world.  It's no secret that many of her albums don't feature songs written by her.  Obviously, whether that's her own personal decision or the label's is unknown.  But it's not out of the question to suggest Britney may have decided at some point that she needn't do anything.  Why lift a finger when the world is at your beck and call?
While I'm sure many big name artists are constantly inundated with material, if you really have something specific to say, odds are very slim someone else can say it for you.  But Britney said herself she likes dance music; music to play at a club or before you go to the club.  Anyone can make that kind of music.
Don't get me wrong, Britney is an original.  No one can sing like her, annunciate like her, be her.  But, if the world was at your feet, what would you do?  If you could pick and choose from the best of the best, would you forsake that and go your own way?
As a writer, I want to be disappointed Britney seemingly takes the easy road.  I want to be upset she doesn't fight to have a voice.  But maybe she does have a voice.  It's just not entirely her own.
Other than a few songs, My Baby, Everytime and Someday to name a few, lyrics don't matter to Britney.  Perhaps that's the way she wants it: simple, direct and no questions asked.  No one will ever ask her what the meaning behind Hold it Against Me is.  That song merely exists for the purpose of existing.  If that makes no sense, then Britney's point is proved.  It's music for music's sake, which seems to be exactly what she wants.
No questions asked, no questions answered.
If her truest thoughts and feelings aren't in her music, then they're still in her head.  Still private.  No one really knows how Britney feels.  Maybe that's the way she wants it.
In the world of Spears, her doll parts are more exposed than her innermost feelings.  That may seem illogical, but then again, no one ever asked her about her doll parts.
Maybe she's complacent, maybe she's guarded, or maybe it's none of the above.  Whatever the case, as Britney herself said, her story "will make for a good book."
If it can't be a song, then that's the next best thing.

Untitled (This is Heartbreak)

I'm a total fuck up.
But isn't that how we all feel?  Except for those that have mastered the art of lying.
How can you not . . . admit you have faults and giant cracks in your skin.  Botox can't heal everything.
There's no plastic surgery that fixes the emptiness inside.  You have to repair that whole on your own.
I'm lost in life.
You should never master the art of lying.  Master the art of being honest, then no one could ever claim you're not being real.  No one wants to be fake.
You don't have to rip open your chest, remove your heart and cover the floor in your blood, but you can admit that you at least feel like doing that sometimes.
If someone tells you they don't care about you, your response shouldn't be "That's OK."  It should be open chest, remove heart, bleed all over floor.
Rejection is a bitch.  It's like wearing no shoes or socks in snow.  A sharp pain, then numbness, followed by the eventual slow thaw and soreness.  That's not fun for anyone.
This is heartbreak.  Your heart doesn't actually break; just everything else does.  You can't speak, think or comprehend.  If heartbreak were a gunshot, it wouldn't actually get you in the chest.  More like in the thigh or maybe the shoulder; just enough to weaken you and throw you off guard.
Tears are real.  Anyone who says they've never just cried has mastered the art of lying.  Avoid those people.  Standing in your doorway, bedroom, kitchen, those are all good places to cry if you feel the need.  You don't need to be physically or emotionally hurt.  Sometimes it's best if you're not.  It's more real that way.
Love is real, too.  Not as real as tears, but real nonetheless.  Sadly, only tears are forever.