With vocals that sound stickier than cloths found under the beds of teenage boys, Paris manages to be at the centre of a Billy Steinberg ballad that is actually worthy of all his biggest 80s hits. It's not impossible to imagine Cyndi, The Bangles or even Madonna all having an iconic 80s #1 smash with it. Oh, the song is called Heartbeat, which she says beats purely for the thrill of hearing her latest jock "cum" whilst sounding like her mouth is full of it. A delightful image: her designer vagina must spin fluids like a washing machine. If that doesn't sound delicious enough, the heiress elsewhere sings/opens-her-piehole about more muscle-ripped jocks having sword fights in her gob (maybe the song is in tribute to Veronica Sawyer from the film Heathers?).
|Alcazar famously declined Paris's offer to record a duet called Camel-Toe At The Discotheque|
|Nothing sluttier on this table anyway.|
Several stand outs appear on the album, but the filler is typical Scott Storch fodder: synths ignite well enough for Turn You On, which is as self-prepping as you can imagine; the sparse opener (or arse opener depending on how you interpret the lyrics) Turn It Up is a whisper-reel for her then-catchphrases such as "I'm hot" and "yeah" (although money can't buy choruses apparently); Fighting Over Me is just a generic hip hop influenced track Paris just happens to breathe on, and she probably gives her chauffeur more consideration.
Not one to turn down cock, Not Leaving Without You is one of the album's peaks. First single Stars Are Blind is sunkissed and doesn't surrender to her club crusades for rich cock (it's the personality of the cock that counts, duh!). Thinner than her friendships, her VOICE on Da Ya Think I'm Sexy is relatively sedate and not worth being awake for beyond pointing out how bad it is. Middle of the road-or-rehab trash.
With just enough successes seeping through the music-as-accessory club jams, the debut album from cock-magnet Paris Hilton is far more listenable than haters would think it ought to be. It's every bit as icky, disinterested and utterly trashtastic as someone like myself wants it to be. The only time Paris would show emotion would be if her card got declined, Paris - The Album is about feeling good and looking even more expensive. A once in a lifetime moment in pop.
|What's taken more of a beating - the drums or her...|