Posted March 23, 201114 yr Professional Reviews of 'Femme Fatale' http://i704.photobucket.com/albums/ww42/JAWS-Archives/britney_pic2_SM.jpg CONSEQUENCE OF SOUND http://c438342.r42.cf2.rackcdn.com/wp-content/plugins/star-rating-for-reviews/images/big-star.gifhttp://c438342.r42.cf2.rackcdn.com/wp-content/plugins/star-rating-for-reviews/images/big-star.gifhttp://c438342.r42.cf2.rackcdn.com/wp-content/plugins/star-rating-for-reviews/images/big-star.gifhttp://c438342.r42.cf2.rackcdn.com/wp-content/plugins/star-rating-for-reviews/images/big-halfstar.gif 3.5/5 Stars Ah, yes…Ms. Spears. Welcome back! You’ve made quite the triumphant return as of late. Care to flaunt some post-Circus life in our humble blogosphere? Excellent. It appears the everlasting showstopper/glorified dancing girl is bouncing two steps forward, a half step back, and remaining unscathed whilst glittered and painted head-to-toe. Does this missing evolutionary link betwixt Blackout and Circus really pool together the pop star’s greatest strengths? Is it safe to like sugary, danceable synth-pop when left in the hands of a manufactured figurehead princess? All signs point to “yes”. Femme Fatale has been given critical OKs in the midst of an era that embraces Ke$ha, so take that with a grain of Wendy’s-approved sea salt (ah, modern times). This is not some impromptu comeback special like Circus, wherein Spears deviated from overproduced Blackout techno to appear matured and well-kept (not to mention sane). This is a legitimate attempt to forge a natural progression between Spears’ last two records, all the while maintaining her refurbished and reverberating persona. The record kicks off with two dance-inducing singles, “Till The World Ends” and “Hold It Against Me”, both drawing power from Montreal producer Billboard (Ke$ha’s Cannibal EP, Adam Lambert’s For Your Entertainment). Billboard lends credibility and curiosity to those wondering whether Spears was aiming for juicy positivity on the floor, or merely staying with the times. The singles are extraordinarily infectious, as is “Inside Out”, which slows the tempo, simultaneously sending Spears back to basics vocally, and into 2011 sonically. “I Wanna Go” and ’80s/Ke$ha-infused Billboard co-production “(Drop Dead) Beautiful” brings Dirty Vegas memories, plus phoning in that Far East Movement “Like A G6″ backing track would have been put to better use with Spears’ producers. “How I Roll” gets stuck amidst chunky dub, eclectic loops, and a ridiculously kitschy chorus, leaving even the guiltiest of those who cherish Spears in some state of indecision. Further pushing that anti-accolade are the lame duck “Seal It With A Kiss”, and Will.i.am-handled house track “Big Fat Bass”, the latter of which might as well be a B-side to “The Time (Dirty Bit)” (otherwise known as the most annoying Black Eyed Peas song ever created). Honestly, one can overlook the former track completely, thanks to the latter’s sheer terrible totality, an example of why songs with a single, almost-cleverly-cute repeated lyric (“I can be the treble baby, you can be the bass”) can reduce a fractionally decent concept to utter drivel. Thankfully, Femme Fatale is entirely rescued by backtracking to Circus-style material, with Rihanna-esque “Gasoline”, and the Ray Of Light-era Madonna influence in closing song “Criminal”. Who’d have thought that “Criminal” would also harken back to Coolio’s “I’m In Love With A Gangsta”, in terms of subject matter? Not the usual tag for the busty blond from the Mickey Mouse Club, but there’s a first time for everything. How Timberlake of her. Spears and her fans needed this record. Pop music needed this record. It’s engaging, and, in pulling the best elements from her past two efforts, Spears and her production crew built a purely blissful account of currently-trending tunes. This totally makes up for botching that Bobby Brown cover.
March 23, 201114 yr Author DIGITAL SPY http://c438342.r42.cf2.rackcdn.com/wp-content/plugins/star-rating-for-reviews/images/big-star.gifhttp://c438342.r42.cf2.rackcdn.com/wp-content/plugins/star-rating-for-reviews/images/big-star.gifhttp://c438342.r42.cf2.rackcdn.com/wp-content/plugins/star-rating-for-reviews/images/big-star.gifhttp://c438342.r42.cf2.rackcdn.com/wp-content/plugins/star-rating-for-reviews/images/big-star.gifhttp://c438342.r42.cf2.rackcdn.com/wp-content/plugins/star-rating-for-reviews/images/big-star.gif 5/5 Stars Let's be honest, Britney's last album Circus wasn't bad by your average artist's standards - 'Womanizer', 'Shattered Glass' and 'Unusual You' anyone? - but as a follow-up to the near-perfect Blackout, we don't mind telling you that we were left somewhat underwhelmed. Given that she's spent two-and-a-bit years working on a follow-up - one that she claims is built "for the clubs" and is her "edgiest and most mature sound yet" - we have a sneaking suspicion that the feeling was mutual. Question is, does Femme Fatale hit the mark? The LP's two trailer singles have already raised the bar from what Circus offered us, having served up a pair of club-thumping stompers in the form of saucy 'n' seductive 'Hold It Against Me' and hi-NRG 'Till The World Ends'. Both helmed by producer-du-jour Dr Luke and longtime mixing buddy Max Martin, their dub-pop hybrid is both fresh yet undeniably 'Britney'. Fortunately the LP's ten remaining tracks continue the trend, with the anthemic 'I Wanna Go', self-assured '(Drop Dead) Beautiful' and ballsy 'Gasoline' all tailor-made dancefloor choons; while the lyrics range from 'Inside Out's' blatantly slutty: "Baby shut your mouth and turn me inside out," to the supremely self-assured: "I wanna go down town where my posse's at/ Because I got nine lives like a kitty-cat" on 'How I Roll'. Despite the album's well-worn producers and slightly obvious theme, the production is polished, intriguing and - best of all - fun. The dub-steppy 'Inside Out', the much-welcomed piano breakdown on the will.i.am-assisted 'Big Fat Bass' and the pagan-like flutes in closing track 'Criminal' all keep us guessing - albeit while feeling suitably pumped - for the full 65 minutes. Future singles? She's spoilt for choice here, but if 'I Wanna Go', 'How I Roll' and 'Criminal' don't at least get a look-in, well, we'll be having strong words. It may have taken four years to arrive, but Femme Fatale ultimately feels like the post-Blackout comeback we were waiting for, albeit with one important distinction: rather than feeling like we'd caught a worse-for-wear Britters at an underground, Red Stripe-soaked "party", this time we're joining her at an altogether classier venue, locking arms and ushering the barman for a round of raspberry Mojito's before throwing some serious shapes. Yes, she's teamed up with producers that her contemporaries are well-aquainted with, and the subject matter rarely shifts from the superficial, but what ultimately sets it apart is Spears's unrivaled ability to seduce us, which, given the album's title, is something she clearly knows all too well.
March 23, 201114 yr Author American Noise http://c438342.r42.cf2.rackcdn.com/wp-content/plugins/star-rating-for-reviews/images/big-star.gifhttp://c438342.r42.cf2.rackcdn.com/wp-content/plugins/star-rating-for-reviews/images/big-star.gifhttp://c438342.r42.cf2.rackcdn.com/wp-content/plugins/star-rating-for-reviews/images/big-star.gifhttp://c438342.r42.cf2.rackcdn.com/wp-content/plugins/star-rating-for-reviews/images/big-star.gif 4/5 Stars “But she doesn’t write her own songs!” the naysayers sneer, as though this invalidates Britney Spears’s career as a singer. It’s a ridiculous claim, of course. Not because it isn’t true—Britney’s never pretended that she crafts her own music–but because some of the greatest singers of the 20th century didn’t write their own material. I’m thinking Frank Sinatra, Elvis Presley, and Nina Simone, to name a few high-profile examples. Nobody would deny their artistry, which came not from the creation of original melody but rather from the way they imbued others’ music with their own signature spirit. These legends made the songs they sang their own, and that’s why they became legends in the first place. Now, Britney Spears is no Nina Simone. But it’s foolish to disregard her albums simply because she didn’t write the hits herself. Britney’s success has always come from the way she sold the myth of her sincerity; when she commanded us to “hit me baby one more time,” she sounded like she meant it. We believed her; we bought into the Britney pop juggernaut, and what we’ve gotten out of this cultural transaction has been an impressive collection of modern pop classics, culminating in the flawed, mysterious, and magnificent Blackout. Then came Circus, and sure, “Womanizer” and the title track did well on the Billboard charts. But the problem with that album was that for the first time, Britney sounded as convincing as a karaoke singer after a couple Valiums and a whiskey soda. Even on the global tour supporting the album, Britney seemed to be going through the motions of pop stardom. The music was catchy, but the presentation was more than a little sad and empty. Which is why I’m delighted to report that she’s back, for real this time. Not only are the dozen tracks on Femme Fatale catchy and joyous, they’re also some of the most sonically interesting of her career. From the skeletal, piano-driven house of “How I Roll” to the Yelle-inspired whistling on “I Wanna Go” and the flower-power flute on closer “Criminal,” Britney and her producers have made an album that never tries for Top 40 radio accessibility but achieves it on the merits of its charms. Even a track featuring will.i.am manages to avoid sounding obnoxious. The most memorable aspect of Ms. Spears’s music, of course, has always been the hooks; on Femme Fatale, they’re massive. Opener “Till The World Ends” apes the refrain from 80s MTV mainstay “Tarzan Boy,” but Britney somehow makes the song’s wordless chanting sound infinitely more expansive than Baltimora ever could. “(Drop Dead) Beautiful” takes about twenty seconds to explode into an 808-backed bridge as pristine as the Golden Gate. And we’ve already discussed why lead single “Hold It Against Me” is so successful. Don’t get me wrong—Femme Fatale isn’t a perfect album; “Seal It With A Kiss” and “Gasoline” are pat but forgettable. But Britney makes up for these momentary lags with plenty of gems; the synth-driven balladry of “Inside Out” and relentless rhythm of second single “Till The World Ends” are both destined to become fan favorites. But none of these songs’ catchy qualities would matter if Britney didn’t sound like she cared. Fortunately for us, she sounds more passionate on this album than she has since “My Prerogative.” On the aforementioned will.i.am-assisted “Big Fat Bass,” she tells the listener that “you can be my bass,” and she makes it sound like the most important role we can fulfill. The snobs will keep on hating, but I for one am more than happy to oblige her.
March 23, 201114 yr Author Rolling Stones 4/5 Stars http://c438342.r42.cf2.rackcdn.com/wp-content/plugins/star-rating-for-reviews/images/big-star.gifhttp://c438342.r42.cf2.rackcdn.com/wp-content/plugins/star-rating-for-reviews/images/big-star.gifhttp://c438342.r42.cf2.rackcdn.com/wp-content/plugins/star-rating-for-reviews/images/big-star.gifhttp://c438342.r42.cf2.rackcdn.com/wp-content/plugins/star-rating-for-reviews/images/big-star.gif (Rolling Stones Readers have given it an average of 4/5 stars as well) Britney Spears is pop music's stealth avant-gardist. For years, critics have dismissed her as a cipher with a wisp of a voice. But from the minute she burst on the scene — heralded by the keyboard power chords of ". . . Baby One More Time" — her music has steered bubblegum into weirder, woollier territory. "Toxic" was a mélange of Bollywood and spy-movie guitar; "Piece of Me" was an essay on 21st-century tabloid infamy crooned over 22nd-century club rhythms. Then there's this year's "Hold It Against Me," which dissolves into a furious dubstep breakdown — easily the most assaultive beat on the Hot 100 right now. Femme Fatale may be Britney's best album; certainly it's her strangest. Conceptually it's straightforward: a party record packed with sex and sadness. Max Martin and Dr. Luke, the world's two biggest hitmakers, are responsible for seven of 12 songs: big melodies and bigger Eurodisco thumps. But other producers go nuts, tossing the kitchen sink at Britney. The Bloodshy-helmed "How I Roll" is sputtering, oddly beautiful techno. In "Big Fat Bass," Will.i.am turns Britney into a cyborg obsessed with low-end. ("The bass is getting bigger!" she exults.) On nearly every track, Britney's voice is twisted, shredded, processed, roboticized. Maybe this is because she doesn't have much of a voice; it's certainly because she, more than almost any other pop diva, is simply game. Femme fatale? Not so much. But say this for Britney: She's an adventuress.
March 23, 201114 yr Author Entertainment Weekly B+ Britney Spears, Femme Fatale (Jive) These days, we don’t ask a whole lot from Britney Spears as an entertainer. She can bungle her dancing, muss her weave, and sleepwalk through a video (like the flatline clip for first single “Hold It Against Me”), and we’ll still send her straight up the charts simply because she’s Britney. She’s an American institution, as deeply sacred and messed up as pro wrestling or the filibuster. Musically, though, Spears will always have to measure up to her own gold standards of pop euphony: the operatic slither of 2004’s “Toxic” and the candied funk of 2000’s “Oops!…I Did It Again.” Femme Fatale, her seventh studio LP, has moments that meet that challenge. Molded by all-star helmers Max Martin and Dr. Luke (the guys behind Katy Perry, Taio Cruz, and just about every song you’ve karaoked in the past year), the album is a ballad-free, treadmill-ready playlist of tireless dance beats and top-shelf production. At its best, it’s an undemanding ride through the marvels of modern-day electro-pop, from the dubby grind of “Inside Out” to the giddy sing-along of second single “Till the World Ends” (sample lyric: “Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh”). But Brit wobbles when she gives in to her old penchant for music-box melodies (the treacly “Trip to Your Heart”) or tries to play an ersatz Fergie on the will.i.am-produced romp “Big Fat Bass.” Spears is no technical singer, that’s for sure. But backed by Martin and Dr. Luke’s wall of pound, her vocals melt into a mix of baby-talk coo and coital panting that is, in its own overprocessed way, just as iconic and propulsive as Michael Jackson’s yips or Eminem’s snarls. No matter who she might be outside the studio, the Britney we hear on Femme Fatale is a confidently corrupt guide to a place where our only worry is whether the beats will end before the sun comes up. And when it comes to pop stars, what more can we really ask for? B+ Edited March 23, 201114 yr by Tyler
