REVIEW: Britney Spears - Blackout

Music Reviews
Britney Spears
Blackout

BY CELESTE BALLARD



Dear Britney,

When I popped your latest album Blackout into my compact disc drive, I braced myself against my Ikea FLURGINT desk, scrunched my eyelids shut, clenched my jaw, and bared my teeth, ready for the worst. The instant before the first beat dropped I saw my life—er, your career—flash before my eyes. We were back on the set of your “Baby, One More Time” video. A doe-eyed schoolgirl with a hot body ran down a hallway chased by a bald demon wielding an umbrella yelling, “Eat it! Lick it! Snort it!” Your new mantra, so it seems. Around the corner, a red-vinyl jump-suited lass was being forced to endure NSFW pictures of her future self while holding onto her dignity for dear life. (Btdubs, NSFW stands for Not Suitable For Work, for those of you who don’t subscribe to The Gospel according to TheSuperficial.com.) I was ready for Blackout to be the soundtrack to your horrific, oft-blogged about downward spiral. I was ready for you to fail.

Shockingly enough, you had me at, “It’s Britney, bitch.” With these sassy words, girl, you launch into an equally sassy, competent dance album. Don’t get me wrong—it’s not the stellar comeback album I was hoping for when I heard you broke up with the K-Fed. Blackout is no Britney, nor is it even as good as the spotty, In the Zone, a record whose single “Toxic” would undoubtedly beat “Gimme More” in a fight to the death (if songs could fight). Yet there’s something about the aggressively unapologetic tone of Blackout that keeps me from wanting to write you off entirely into the annals of heading-for-obscurity.

My favorite song is definitely “Gimme More,” with its gritty synths and guttural groans because you sound most like the old version of yourself. Your version of La Lohan’s “Rumors,” and most likely your next single, “Piece of Me” is not nearly as danceable. The lyrics “you want a piece of me” alternate between being a question and a threatening statement, never quite clarifying if your media image is how you actually are in real life. Admittedly, “Break the Ice” and “Get Naked (I Got a Plan)” are pretty good for knock-offs of Timbaland and Nelly Furtado collaborations. With lyrics such as, “Baby I can make you feel hot, hot, hot” I see you’re still pursuing the most intellectual inquiries life has to offer; topics from your never-expanding repertoire include: “How hot am I?” “Don’t you want me?” “Don’t I just love shaking my butt?” “Sex anyone? No, seriously you guys, sex anyone?”

As it turns out, your pseudo-rapping is as hilarious as ever—“Toy Soldier” is pretty fun, but you’re clearly trying a little too hard with the ’tude-infused whiny lyrics. The Pharrell-produced “Why Should I Be Sad” is a nice closing alternate to the schmaltzy, weepy numbers that usually fall mid-album for you. The rest of the album consists of standard dance fare, songs such as “Heaven on Earth” that lack the pop-tacular catchy hooks of your previous hits.

If I had to venture a guess, I’d say that when recording this album, you rolled out bed still wearing the cut-offs you fell asleep in after a night at the club, were handed a mocha frappacino by an assistant, sang the songs that were written for you without doing many takes, turned on the auto-tune, and called it a day. Sure, Blackout is competent, and given your recent history it’s tempting to call it a pretty amazing achievement. The high-fives, however, should be dealt out amongst your handlers, who knew the only way to save your career was by forcing you to work with a line-up of hot on-the-scene producers. Completely missing from this album are those “only Britney” moments. The choruses aren’t tailored to you or your notoriously mediocre croon. Any pop starlet with enough cash money millions could have made this dance album. Your voice was never known to be legitimately beautiful, but on Blackout your voice lacks any evidence of effort whatsoever, y’all!

Sure, as club albums go this one is pretty good, but I miss the good ol’ days where you were still teeny bopping even while being sexy. Will you never have another “Toxic” or “Slave 4 U?” I have the sinking feeling that the Britney Spears I have come to know and love over my years as a hardcore mainstream pop fan has been replaced by another dancehall drone. Why, Brit-Brit, why have you completely given up? Get it together, lady! I know you’re probably too far gone for that, but at least Blackout leaves a vestige of hope. I’m currently very thankful I still have my copy of your Greatest Hits album. I have a feeling my nostalgia will want to take it for a spin one of these days.

Love conditionally,

Celeste Ballard







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