Lady GaGa - ARTPOP

Ah, the Lady GaGa album cycle. It's rivalled only by the surfacing of a celebrity's nudes in the "what gets the gays riled up" stakes, and is subject to a hideous level of hyperbole, high expectations and Germanotta's own unmistakeable hubris. This time around she's stretched as far as vowing to be the actual first popstar to perform in space (many have claimed they will, but apparently she actually will), has made a typically overstated cameo in Robert Rodriguez's Machete Kills, and gone down the gimmicky app route that Bjork and Jay Z did to varying results (Bjork's was innovative and interesting, Jay's was done for a deal with Samsung, go figure). GaGa herself has clumsily tread between the two: her own app appeared to be free, as she probably intended, but now something's popped up, most likely thanks to the label, with O2 that charges consumers £1 a week to listen to it a week earlier than its release date.

This careless slipping between two extremes is, in a way, much the basis of what she believes to be a concept album. Taking Warhol's generation-defining art movement and so facetiously turning it on its head so that the emphasis is on the pop may be a smart move on her part (considering she's so tragically lacking on the art front) but it's the lack of self-awareness with which she spouts this shit that's most alarming. Reading some of these lyrics begs belief, but that's the consequence of bestowing a woman who's got a knack for some good pop songs with the highest accolades music offers: if we believe in this shit, why shouldn't she?

Fans of Born This Way's more latin-influenced craziness such as Americano will likely love opener 'Aura' (featured on the soundtrack for Rodriguez's film) and to be fair it starts off excellently: frenetic spanish guitars are used as a dizzying hook whilst GaGa herself laughs in a distorted baritone. Sadly, though, the beats are quick to intervene and it gets smashed into an underground German club standard - but the chorus at least retains some of its earlier promise. It could grow on me. There's not much chance of (promo? Who's even keeping up any more) single 'Venus' doing the same: it could be a decent, total banger but an acapella chorus and repetition of its title serves as a constant interruption to the party. More songs calling out for subtler production follow: 'MANiCURE' is actually a pretty smart party anthem but it's been weirdly dragged into sounding like one of those power-pop girlbands you saw soundtracking chick-flicks like Legally Blonde and Mean Girls (that were called something like Hoku or Boomkat). It's a very dated take on what could be a fine song. And then there're songs that just needn't be included at all: 'Sexxx Dreams' is a thudding bit of sleaze that's neither fresh nor sexy, whilst 'Jewels N Drugs' is the kind of thing Nicki Minaj might put out as a B-Side.

When she attempts to make classical references on 'G.U.Y.' (an intro that mentions Aphrodite) and then immediately follows it with the crunching synths and lyrics like "love me, love me, please retweet" the effect should be nauseating but it's such a classic GaGaism that it doesn't bear hating. The title itself stands for girl under you, and it's a suitably seductive track. In fact, when she's getting in the mood on this album she tends to produce the greatest results: instant highlight 'Do What U Want' is arguably her greatest song since The Fame Monster (with possible exception of The Edge of Glory). R. Kelly's revived ear for great songwriting steers the track into a smooth R&B jam whilst both are vocally on point. As usual, when totally stripped bare and writing a ballad she's pretty unstoppable too: 'Dope' is a poignant and rousing piano piece that stretches her voice to its limits, whilst 'Gypsy' climbs and climbs into a jetsetting desire to tour and be with her boyfriend (and is longtime collaborator RedOne's sole credit on this album). But if it's pure pop you're after, and weirdly overt drug references, then 'Mary Jane Holland' is a solid earworm, and 'Fashion!' is a sunny, dancefloor-destined anthem (even if it owes a little of its melody to Madonna's Holiday).

It's just that, sometimes, the idiotic lyrics are impossible to avoid: the title track idly boasts "my artpop could mean anything!" as some sort of half-assed response to questions over what the album's concept is, whilst the intro to 'Donatella' finds her speaking like a total twat ("I am so fab, check it out: I'm blonde, I'm skinny, I'm rich and I'm a bit of a bitch!") before a squelchy, shrill mess is unleashed. The album's tendency to embrace the most derivative of EDM tedium is its greatest letdown: 'Swine' clatters along clumsily as though soundtracking a catwalk for someone with a migraine. And then there's the first single, 'Applause', a shrewd dedication to her monsters but more tellingly a desperate plea for attention (and with no real hook that warrants it).

Even ignoring all of the nonsense behind ARTPOP and its provactive lyrics, the album fails to connect as a pop album. The majority of songs are overproduced and, whilst they contain elements of creativity and potential hooks, just drowned out by too many half-baked ideas. In a way, this entire endeavour is a little like Sofia Coppolla's latest movie, The Bling Ring (which I just happened to watch the other day, so call this lazy writing if you like): both may have been intended as commentaries on the lack of meaning in today's youth and the obsession we share for pop culture, but both are executed with zero finesse and come off as ineffective, adolescent whining from people who offer nothing in its place.  There is not a more blatant example of a celebrity with hypocrisies than Lady GaGa, and even worse, there're plenty making this type of bland music.

Rating: 5/10
Highlights: Do What U Want; Fashion!; Gypsy; Dope; G.U.Y.
Avoid: Applause; Donatella; Sexxx Dreams; Artpop; Jewels n Drugs

Artwork Watch: Too much going on. Tacky exhibitionism. Ideal representation of her, I suppose.
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