Product Description
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Second studio album by the popular American singer. The follow
up to her hugely successful debut album 'The Fame', the album
features the singles 'Born This Way', 'Judas' and 'The Edge of
Glory'.
Review
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Lady Gaga is the greatest thing that Planet Pop in 2011 could
ever want. She’s a wise-beyond-her-years phenomenon who’s taken
everything that has gone before and cast it into press-stopping
new shapes – the fright wig on top, merely a bonus. She’s so far
above her chart contemporaries that she’s created her own orbit,
around her own world. You’re all welcome here, whoever you are.
What you take from it is your own business.
It’s probably best to ignore the questionable cover imagery of
her third album (or second, depending on your definition of what
The Fame Monster was) and focus on the actual music. What’s
delivered is a high-octane blend of nods to cheesy Euro-rave
(hints of Sash!, Human Resource and Rozalla) and the rock of
Springsteen, Judas Priest and Queen. Add a smidgeon of
electroclash (Chicks on Speed, Peaches) and giant choruses
comparable to ABBA and Ace of Base, and it’s clear the average –
if the idea of ‘average’ exists in her world – Gaga tune is
designed solely to hook into your brain.
Opener Marry the Night is as perfect as a straightforward
fist-pumping entry into a colossus can be. Does the title-track
really sound like Madonna’s Express Yourself? Not to these ears –
and Gaga would never be so stupid as to allow blatant thievery to
surface. The attempt to crowbar a song into what was built to be
an anthem may put some off – anthems follow their own destinies
to such a deified status – but it’s still an undeniably huge
tune. If it speaks to a Middle America teen covering their
s with foundation, then that’s a good thing. The following
Government Hooker’s spooky opera entrance gives way to a
Casiotone throb, Gaga throwing in references to JFK.
Americano delves into immigration over a futuristic musical
theatre stomp, while Hair is an empowering freeway rocker about
self expression. Scheiße is a monster tune begging for a sex
dungeon-themed video event. The pace drops a bit for Yoü & I, a
lighters-aloft moment which recalls Def Leppard. Not the most
likely of stylistic inspirations, perhaps, but she makes the song
work magnificently.
Gaga could have filled this album with guest slots from hip names
and phoned-in cameos from rent-a-rapper types. But with the
exception of Brian May axing all over Yoü & I, and the E Street
Band’s Clarence Clemons honking over The Edge of Glory, there’s
none of that. Born This Way is pretty much pure Gaga.
But this is not quite the revolution, and certainly not the
greatest album ever made. It’s a storming collection of
high-concept pop brilliance designed to soundtrack every
preously tremendous Gaga moment for the next 18 months. If
there’s a gripe to be had, it’s regarding the length: at an hour
long, Born This Way initially feels more like an assault than an
event, and it could easily lose a couple of tracks. However, if
she is planning on releasing nine singles from it, then nobody
can come away feeling ripped off.
Sometime in the future the frenetic, breathless giddiness will
let up, and Gaga will – after a holiday, hopefully – breathe out
and unleash her jazz odyssey. But until that happens, please
enjoy someone actually putting a bit of effort and imagination
back into pop, and keep the sneering and lazy comparisons in
check. Not that they can take anything away from what is, simply,
a marvellous record.
--Ian Wade
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