Oops!… She did it again.
Femme Fatale, Britney Spears’ seventh studio album, is pure sonic dessert, and as with any gluttonous indulgence, it can be paralyzing in copious amounts, so read the label warning closely: Brit Brit’s latest is fatal, at least to the music industry.
Devoid of any heart-wrenching ballads, Femme Fatale features Spears doing what she does best: breathlessly belting out overtly sexualized club beats with vapid, at times nonsensical, lyrics.
After having a few months to swallow and digest the first two released singles from her latest, fans and skeptics alike could probably already tell this latest installment to Spears’ discography was going to be chock full of Spears’ signature roboticized voice digitized in the vain attempt to measure up against Mother Gaga and her empire of monsters.
And though Femme Fatale won’t imprint a long-lasting memory in our collective pop nostalgia, it’s catchy and carefree and presents no illusions to the contrary, which is precisely why it succeeds so well in its mission of pop farce.
At its core, Femme Fatale is a dance album of pop deliciousness, and nothing more. Looking for more contemplative lyrics? Stick to your indie staples for existential musings, because there’s no spiritual guidance offered here. Nearly every track guides Spears’ computer-aided voice through an adrenaline-fueled, pump-up prep for a night out, each verse seamlessly translating that cheeky, self-indulgent expectation that you’ll find a “special” someone to bring home tonight.
Essentially, Spears goes balls-out and plays to her time-honored strengths – breathy choruses about sexy boys and the consequences of lust.
Aided by the production dream team of hit masters, Dr. Luke and Max Martin – the ones responsible for classics like, “I Want It That Way” and “…Baby One More Time,” among others – Spears dabbles in dubstep and assaults our ears with wildly contagious Eurotechno beats.
And along with the duo of Luke and Martin, Ke$ha, Will.i.am and newcomer rapper Sabi all make an appearance on the record in one form or another. Everyone’s favorite tik-toking songbird, Ke$ha, wrote Spears’ second single, “Till the World Ends,” which sounds like, well, Ke$ha. If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em, right?
Because Femme Fatale provides a playful mash-up of party-pumping melodies, it’s difficult to pinpoint any sputtering missteps because the album never stops for a breather, but rather propels from “Till the World Ends” to the record’s finale, “Criminal,” in a cohesive and unforgiving slew of upbeat rhythms.
But fans have to wonder, would this album be as highly anticipated or perhaps as readily applauded if a newcomer had belted out the same dumb, yet unforgivingly catchy lyrics? Probably not. We’ll graciously accept anything associated with Britney because of her reputation, and for some of us, our longstanding allegiance to one of the ’90s’ most iconic pop stars, even if it is crap.
With the domination of Lady Gaga, artists like Spears have to measure up against the eccentricity of Gaga, who isn’t just a performer – she’s a brand, a sellable image who’s undoubtedly altered the industry across all genres. She’s a force to be reckoned with for old-school pop veterans like Spears who may or may not be on the cusp of retirement.
While Femme Fatale doesn’t have the same depth as any of Spears’ previous hits, it’s a welcome reminder that Spears is still the same cultural force we were introduced to with “…Baby One More Time.”
3 out 5 stars
