Well, this must be frustrating. After years in the shadow of erstwhile rival Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera finally forged a clear identity of her own with 2006's Back to Basics, a double album that imaginatively updated classic swing and soul music. Four years later, though, Aguilera again finds herself eclipsed by a competing pop sensation, and one she helped lay the groundwork for at that: Lady Gaga. Listeners quickly dismissed the first single from Aguilera's latest album Bionic, “Not Myself Tonight,” and its video as Gaga knockoffs, a criticism that fairly or not the rest of the album will invite.
Aguilera does sometimes seem to be playing catch-up on Bionic, struggling to out-sensationalize Gaga and turn heads in an era of increasingly brash, media-savvy pop stars like Katy Perry and Ke$ha. Instead of banking on a singular sound à la Back to Basics, she hedges her bets, clinging cautiously to the dance-pop template of those singers' recent hits for much of the album, but occasionally breaking from form with some chancy, left-field collaborations. M.I.A. and Switch lend their bombed-out-dancehall aesthetic to the booming “Elastic Love,” while the feminist electroclash band Le Tigre emerges from a long hiatus to join Aguilera and Peaches on “My Girls.” The record's biggest gambit, though, may be limiting ballads from surefire hitmaker Linda Perry to just one. A less proven songwriter co-pens most of Aguilera's torch songs this time around: Sia Furler, formerly of Zero 7. Though they may not work as well on the radio, Furler's three nimble, jazzy contributions pack a whole lot more character than Perry's overblown weepers, and highlight the softer nuances of Aguilera's brassy voice.
Bionic keeps the dance pulse pumping steadily for its initial two thirds, first with a set of robotic pop, then with a trio of Tricky Stewart-produced, Euro-sheik thumpers modeled after Madonna's “Vogue,” before the album stops the beat to group its four ballads together. That smart sequencing lends Bionic nice momentum, though not always enough to overlook some of the album's clunkers, most of which sink under the weight of too much artificial sass. The worst offender is the closing ode-to-self “Vanity.” “I'm not cocky, I just love myself, bitch,” Aguilera sings, channeling Ke$ha's entitled sneer, “Ain't nobody got shit on me, I'm the best for sure.” The sentiment rings false following an album that Aguilera spent so much of trying to be somebody else.
|
|
