From a staff piece about our favorite Spring Break A&E related things:
If I had to make a mix tape, er, CD, er, iTunes playlist to reflect my spring break experience, it would consist of one song and one song only. Beyoncé, Beyoncé, Beyoncé. Oh wait—that’s not a song title. But it might as well be, because whenever I hear the name Beyoncé, I see cherubs holding banners of periwinkle and starshine, I hear the swelling of an orchestra, the joyous harmonies of song birds, and what I can only assume to be the voice of God crying out, “To the left! To the left!” I spent the first week of break on tour with The Yale Ex!t Players. We had many a late-night dance session to the song “Irreplaceable,” marveling that the woman who once sang “can you pay my automo-bills” could cause so much rapture. I’m convinced that this song unites people and causes such instantaneous joy that if it were to be played over loudspeakers around the world, in war-torn regions AK-47s would be dropped in order to signal to the left, to the left, and the mass bootyshaking would cause an earthquake bigger than Northridge ’94.
Monday, May 28, 2007
REVIEW: Hilary Duff, The Yale Herald
Music Reviews
Hilary Duff
Dignity
What are you, on your period or something?” This is what a teenage boy might ask Hilary Duff of her latest teen-angst-filled release, Dignity. This title would usually be absurd, but given the recent antics of her panty-less, rehab-frequenting colleagues (LiLo, Brit—I’m looking at you), Hilary seems to be doing a pretty good job of keeping her dignity intact and her underwear on. I’m still not sure if Dignity is the word to describe it, but with this electro-pop album, Hilary Duff certainly sheds her Lizzie McGuire image like a size AA Hanes-Her-Way training bra.
Hilary’s latest album is a perky “You go girl!” for the 12-to-16-year-old bracket. Where she used to “let the rain fall down” and splash about in the puddles, Hilary now stomps angrily and lets her mascara smear. She sings of her breakup with Good Charlotte’s Joel Madden on “Stranger,” the deep-breathing types of her older male fan base on “Danger,” and of breakups again on the I’m-like-so-totally-over-you song, “Happy.” Joel, who could easily get in an eyeliner-off with both Duff sisters, seems to have left the young, nubile Hil in a state of rage, providing much fodder for her lyrics: They read like the emo poems from the Hello Kitty diary of a high school prom queen stood up by her date. We gotta cut Hil some slack: He did ditch her for a pill-popping stick figure who once drove the wrong way on a freeway while stoned out of her gourd.
On this album, it seems like the princess of bubblegum seems to have lost some of her pop. The synth beats are of the bad ’80s kind, especially on “Never Stop,” and the single, “With Love.” Both sound like demos you might find on a Casio keyboard at a garage sale. Hilary would have a hit on her hands had she stuck with the rock-based belters that she’s known for. These radio hits usually let her hang out with the older kids, the post-sweet-16 crowd who aren’t ashamed to enjoy songs like her past hits “Come Clean” (better known by its chorus “let the rain fall down”) and “So Yesterday.” Dignity doesn’t contain a single song like this, save the title track. Hil should’ve given us a hit that we could sing in the shower. You know, the jump-around-your-room-in-your-underwear-singing-into-a-hairbrush kind of pop song.
Dignity is Hilary’s version of the “Not a girl, not yet a woman” stage that Britney Spears went through not too long ago. The album is dressing up in the makeup and high heels of an older, sexier euro-pop album: Everything is two sizes too big, two shades too gaudy, and slightly ridiculous-sounding. Albums like this only seem to work when highly sexual songstresses are at the helm (see: Madonna’s Confessions on a Dance Floor and any Kylie Minogue). For once, Hilary Duff’s status as the reigning virginal, pre-pubescent teen queen plays against her. It’s hard to imagine this being played in a club. It’s easy to imagine it bumping out of a plastic Mattel jukebox.
Hilary Duff
Dignity
What are you, on your period or something?” This is what a teenage boy might ask Hilary Duff of her latest teen-angst-filled release, Dignity. This title would usually be absurd, but given the recent antics of her panty-less, rehab-frequenting colleagues (LiLo, Brit—I’m looking at you), Hilary seems to be doing a pretty good job of keeping her dignity intact and her underwear on. I’m still not sure if Dignity is the word to describe it, but with this electro-pop album, Hilary Duff certainly sheds her Lizzie McGuire image like a size AA Hanes-Her-Way training bra.
Hilary’s latest album is a perky “You go girl!” for the 12-to-16-year-old bracket. Where she used to “let the rain fall down” and splash about in the puddles, Hilary now stomps angrily and lets her mascara smear. She sings of her breakup with Good Charlotte’s Joel Madden on “Stranger,” the deep-breathing types of her older male fan base on “Danger,” and of breakups again on the I’m-like-so-totally-over-you song, “Happy.” Joel, who could easily get in an eyeliner-off with both Duff sisters, seems to have left the young, nubile Hil in a state of rage, providing much fodder for her lyrics: They read like the emo poems from the Hello Kitty diary of a high school prom queen stood up by her date. We gotta cut Hil some slack: He did ditch her for a pill-popping stick figure who once drove the wrong way on a freeway while stoned out of her gourd.
On this album, it seems like the princess of bubblegum seems to have lost some of her pop. The synth beats are of the bad ’80s kind, especially on “Never Stop,” and the single, “With Love.” Both sound like demos you might find on a Casio keyboard at a garage sale. Hilary would have a hit on her hands had she stuck with the rock-based belters that she’s known for. These radio hits usually let her hang out with the older kids, the post-sweet-16 crowd who aren’t ashamed to enjoy songs like her past hits “Come Clean” (better known by its chorus “let the rain fall down”) and “So Yesterday.” Dignity doesn’t contain a single song like this, save the title track. Hil should’ve given us a hit that we could sing in the shower. You know, the jump-around-your-room-in-your-underwear-singing-into-a-hairbrush kind of pop song.
Dignity is Hilary’s version of the “Not a girl, not yet a woman” stage that Britney Spears went through not too long ago. The album is dressing up in the makeup and high heels of an older, sexier euro-pop album: Everything is two sizes too big, two shades too gaudy, and slightly ridiculous-sounding. Albums like this only seem to work when highly sexual songstresses are at the helm (see: Madonna’s Confessions on a Dance Floor and any Kylie Minogue). For once, Hilary Duff’s status as the reigning virginal, pre-pubescent teen queen plays against her. It’s hard to imagine this being played in a club. It’s easy to imagine it bumping out of a plastic Mattel jukebox.
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