floatingcity's Full Review: Circus by Britney Spears
To say that the past couple of years have been chaotic for Britney Spears would be quite an understatement, with mass media attention having focused on her spectacular fall from teen-pop idol to frankly disturbing trainwreck. With the past humour quotient of her neglecting to wear underwear while in public having long seceded to the saddening sight of her being strapped to a gurney, carted off to a psychiatric ward and sobbing over losing custody of her children, the Spears machine has kicked back into gear with the release of her sixth album, “Circus”. Ostensibly being her comeback record (wasn’t that supposed to be “Blackout”?), the title’s sly reference to her recent troubles is as personal as Britney’s handlers are willing to let the disc get, and “Circus” instead focuses on providing a platter of agreeably mindless dance tunes to her seemingly-forgiving public.
Taking in contributions from many of contemporary pop music’s big names, this album is as heavily polished and produced as you would expect, with copious use of Pro-Tools and other engineering software to rectify Britney’s increasingly shaky vocals. Similarly, much more attention is paid to making the music superficially catchy than giving it melodic substance, exemplified by the No.1 single “Womanizer”. Opening with a procession of alarm-emulating synthesisers and some canned drum hits, the song eventually slinks into a taut staccato groove, thumping along with a reasonable verse until a weak chorus washes all the progress away. Eschewing a tune for an obnoxious, monotone playground chant that sounds the title again and again, the song quickly becomes annoying, its repetitiveness ultimately making it forgettable instead of hooky.
After that initial misfire, “Circus” rectifies itself for the next few tracks, the muffled electronic rhythms and gimmicky vocal stutter effects being compensated with some passable songwriting. The title piece (and second single) has all its amplified blips and judders in the right places, coupling them with a few genuinely catchy segments and some enjoyably eccentric keyboard effects. Britney even manages to pull off the ballad “Out From Under”, in large part thanks to producer Guy Sigsworth’s restrained arrangement and a few nice attempts at background harmony vocals in the refrain (which really should have been developed a little more, but sound fine as they are). The paparazzi-baiting “Kill The Lights” and streamlined robo-thump “Shattered Glass” are also pleasant, not being memorable on the whole, but having enough inoffensive energy to be fun.
Unfortunately, the album soon experiences a massive slump in quality, and it’s one it never recovers from. Hack of hacks Max Martin emerges for another run around the cliché track with “If U Seek Amy”, a woefully tinny slice of Euro-cheese made even more embarrassing by its titular single entendre, and second slow number “Unusual You” is a bland clone of “Out From Under”, except without that song’s redeeming harmonies. Then there’s the corny “Mmm Papi”, which is dull and juvenile enough to begin with, let alone factoring in the creepy Freudian implications when Britney squawks “I’m Mami! And that makes you Papi! And that makes us lovey!” in her twelve-year-old-girl-slash-hooker voice. The clumsy, directionless hip-hop mess “Mannequin” is just as awful, leaving only the bass-popping “Lace and Leather” to redeem the second half. The only song to possess a wholly memorable tune, it also makes good use of some chicken-scratch guitar, and allows Britney to demonstrate more personality than she does on the rest of these faceless numbers.
That said, Brit Brit does go for a more intimate atmosphere on one song, being the closing child-ode “My Baby”. On one hand, it’s hard to deny the honesty of her sentiment and the soothing atmosphere – but it’s equally hard to suppress bewilderment at how sugary it is, as well as laughter at the awkward lyrics, with “I smell your breath/It makes me cry” sounding more like an admonishment of halitosis than a declaration of maternal love. Still, it at least sounds real, and a far cry from the affected, sex-kitten posturing that’s been the unifying theme of her career so far (the latter being especially unpleasant in retrospect, seeing how watching any interview with her suggests growing up in the spotlight has impeded her emotional/intellectual development beyond that of about a 15-year-old).
In all, most of “Circus” is rather predictable, and that’s where its Achilles heel lies. In their efforts to push the triumphant Britney product to a public that enjoys comebacks as much as collapses, her people have neglected to do anything to make this sound uniquely Britney Spears instead of ‘disposable 00s pop diva’. Certainly, dyed-in-the-wool fans will probably find a lot to enjoy (and there are certainly three or four decent single candidates for everyone else), but it remains that Britney’s never been able to carry a full album, and pushing her to record (and go on a world tour) doesn’t exactly seem like the best thing for her at the moment. Still, “Circus” is at least passable, and you can feel free to add a couple more points to my rating if you don’t share my allergy to generic, mass-produced dance music. 2 stars.
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