Christina Aguilera - Lotus (2012)

It has been a decade since Christina Aguilera was universally recognized as a truly viable singles act, and on Lotus her juices flow faster and thicker than I ever thought she'd go - the melodies don't just ooze out, they hurl themselves like being pushed out a moving car on the freeway. Although her red nectar has been known to drip down her legs under immense pressure to make sure people know she's better than them, Lotus is a confident display of her true colours, a blend of the best and worst Xtina at her very finest. Fertilizing her flower with the recent shit she's been through is no easy task, and when told she was barking up the wrong tree with the music lovers album Bionic, Xtina took it literally and went for the next best thing. Plants.

Lotus
From a deep dark faraway place to emotional infinity: "I sing for freedom, and for love. I look at my reflection, embrace the woman I've become. The unbreakable lotus in me I now set free." Feeding her flower with a wash of yelp echos, new world atmospherics and empowered spoken-word exotica. Not quite taking a leaf out of Enya's book, the dense growth of harmonious and sensual chants are ravishing. The breathtaking climax achieving the smuggest sense of bliss possible.
10/10

Army of Me
Marching over a thoughtless dance thump, AOM gathers a steady invasion of Max Martin's 'songs for Katy Perry' documents folder. The sleek verses are deliciously bitter, and Xtina's teeth-licking taunts camouflage the otherwise blatant intent to attack both the charts and her ex's last shred of dignity (it's hard to tell which one she's aiming for most). Although it sounds more about her voice being on the firing line than anything else, the chorus luxuriates in the force of her vocal ammunition, least we forget she can sing. "There's a thousand faces on me" articulates the suspicion that she probably never takes her make-up off, and her loaded gun is full of ha's beyond the point of parody, but perhaps she's simply all too aware how much of a retread this is. This would be my third single after Blank Page if I had my way.
10/10

Red Hot Kinda Love
Laid-back and frisky retro disco fusion with a Luscious Jackson's Nervous Breakthrough basement party vibe. A subtle pleasure for such a big singer, her diet of sizzling Latin rhythms gives the track a lightweight feel, but Xtina serves it as a palette cleanser for bigger full-throatal earthquakes coming up. Funneling house music and disco influences into a funky cocktail riddled with customized Christina ingredients.
09/10

Make The World Go Round
Exactly what I wanted from them both. Just because it doesn't go anywhere beyond 2 or 3 amazing hooks doesn't mean it's not fun and fashionable. Fashion's a lifestyle, and it's definitely a size 18 squeezed into a size 12, but it's a size 8 from me.
08/10

Fuck Your Body
Spunking her career up the walls, the orifice-ripping chorus is the most memorable of the year so far. "Ha! Alright! Say!" ejaculates something more full-bodied, bitter and delighted with herself than I ever thought possible. Fucked to a pulp, this should have been her biggest hit since the 90s. I've wrote enough about this song already. The sheer onslaught of everything about this track is phenomenal.
10/10

Let There Be Love 
Sounding like not only both Madonna's Girl Gone Wild and Get Together but also something or other by Kelly Rowland, it's the "like that/yeah/let's go" interjections that elevate the album's definitive 'faster than slow' experience into something more memorable than another louder than loud Loud knock-off. Despite being easy to dismiss as heavily bloated and generic, it erupts into a lava flow of euphoria that could only be commanded by Chrissy. However, releasing this would be worse than weed-killer. It gives me a massive smirk to listen to this when walking outside - it's such an experience being a Christina fan.
10/10

Sing For Me
Mining her vast reserves of volume, the lioness of I Am has a lot of pride, with limitless feelings about herself. The powerful shouting gives way to a litter of airy, subtle phrasingy bits at the end, which are divine calm after the shit storm of emotions. Deliberately roughing up her own song to at least try and expand the meaning to the same hugeness as her technical range, it's equal parts glorious and horrendous (the "give me your worst" currency that keeps on paying). The dashing of waltzing piano keys at the 3rd chorus (after THAT key-change) are just lovely.
10/10

Blank Page
Will she ever record a better song than this? The biggest bookmark of her career so far. I've already explained why this song is so important. This song deserves the works from her record label to ensure it becomes a hit. A new page of the American Songbook has been drafted. Is the infected world TOO UNPREPARED for this though? The soft regret of "let our hearts..." the ribbons of spiraling melody and the anguish squeezed out of it all - every second gushes with melancholy, soaring with pain or tenderly overcome, no other song has conveyed emotion on this intimate and powerful level. She completely inhabits this song.
10/10

Cease Fire
Self-governing as ever, Christina's 4 minutes of conflict resolves what took Ireland decades is nothing short of a miracle. I do hear a lot of noise, windows probably will be broken, but I don't think anything is truly set a light and there's not even an f-bomb.
08/10

Around The World
More sexual combat malarkey from Miss Easyjet herself. Getting a lot of mileage from similar production elsewhere (on this album AND in general), this could be anyone. It's rendered noteworthy only because of the Lady Marmalade d-tour as her worldwide Ag slag-a-thon is a bit of a slog. If Bionic was marred by uneveness, then Lotus is flawed only by consistency - the bombastic production is stamped all over the latter half of the album, and the marching drum motif is done better elsewhere. Flying economy, I can certainly get on board with it though. A bit too deliberately hectic and pompous, but wthout the usual fun of being horrible or inappropriate.
07/10

Circles 
The unrelatable put-downs about having more money than she can fold up (so you can shut the fuck up, etc), and near-unrepeatable lyrics (cringe-worthy not shock-worthy) will make this a hard sell, but despite so many sensitive confessions such as "why you always try to be all up in my mixture?" and "you got the smell of my success on your breath, desperate, you're a mess" they actually play second fiddle to a chorus that takes a similar shape to The Breeders' Cannonball. I'm not into the unconvincing screams and forced cackles at the end (they just don't sound spontaneous), and the final "motherfucker" isn't even Max's first 2.0.
10/10

Best of Me
The middle-8, the acoustic guitar bits, and the rare sense of quiet in the weary and sly verses are marvelous. There aren't many other songs showcasing different textures to her voice as opposed to the unrelenting guttural splatter ballads, which makes me fear that if she does go on tour she'll end up sound like Courtney Love at the end of it. "Tough as the nails" many will think are being scratched down the blackboard.
10/10

Just A Fool
The alcoholic within, the opening lyric is very Gaga, and for once she isn't drunk on her own volume. It could work for a country audience, but I don't get the F.U.S.S as a supposed standout above the full-throttle Blank Page, Light Up The Sky, Best of Me and Sing For Me. This is her Cyndi Lauper duets with The Hooters on Boys Will Be Boys moment - a really fine song, but far too middle of the road to be going forward.
09/10

Light Up The Sky
This is major, the verses rekindle the spirit of the best Stripped testifying numbers. The pathos drenched "we can be kings you and I...we light up the sky" is epic in a Rule The World kind of way. Such a special song, it's blazing.
10/10

Empty Words
Because she's not short of them. I can't resist this one either. A really strong build up, the bridges are essential, the chorus and beats DO sound cheapskate, but "the funny thing" melody flushes right through me. A good example of Christina setting a scene of hurt then usurping up into rage-fueled glee about being unbeatable and immune to people who don't agree with her. Stunning, all the while really showing off the shades of her voice well.
10/10

Shut Up
Christina pleased with her own mood as usual, she really does get a kick out herself kicking someone else's ass. If only Back To Basics sounded like this. The way she sings "ego" is so patronizing and brilliant to me, plus the way she doesn't sing the chorus is both those things too. The bleep actually works rhythmically, a rare benefit of Xtina censoring herself.
10/10

 All the ha's, grunting and other typical Xtina distinctions are fully engaged with the vague concept of going mainstream, but it's a pity she so far isn't managing to get past the commercial stumbles that occurred when it occurred to her how meaningful and artistic she really could be. Personally I love the ravaged, constant straining to soar in every single song. The sap-free first half opens up into a much more emotional landscape, but the sexual combat jollies and defiant protection of self value all belong to the same stem with production motifs and her trademark nuances holding everything together. The scandal of her vocals are well over the edge of glory: with her vocals she'll never compromise and Lotus really is unbreakable. It's her best ever album, and if you don't like it fuck you and just shut the fuck up, etc.

Christina Aguilera - Lotus (2012)

It has been a decade since Christina Aguilera was universally recognized as a truly viable singles act, and on Lotus her juices flow faster and thicker than I ever thought she'd go - the melodies don't just ooze out, they hurl themselves like being pushed out a moving car on the freeway. Although her red nectar has been known to drip down her legs under immense pressure to make sure people know she's better than them, Lotus is a confident display of her true colours, a blend of the best and worst Xtina at her very finest. Fertilizing her flower with the recent shit she's been through is no easy task, and when told she was barking up the wrong tree with the music lovers album Bionic, Xtina took it literally and went for the next best thing. Plants.

Lotus
From a deep dark faraway place to emotional infinity: "I sing for freedom, and for love. I look at my reflection, embrace the woman I've become. The unbreakable lotus in me I now set free." Feeding her flower with a wash of yelp echos, new world atmospherics and empowered spoken-word exotica. Not quite taking a leaf out of Enya's book, the dense growth of harmonious and sensual chants are ravishing. The breathtaking climax achieving the smuggest sense of bliss possible.
10/10

Army of Me
Marching over a thoughtless dance thump, AOM gathers a steady invasion of Max Martin's 'songs for Katy Perry' documents folder. The sleek verses are deliciously bitter, and Xtina's teeth-licking taunts camouflage the otherwise blatant intent to attack both the charts and her ex's last shred of dignity (it's hard to tell which one she's aiming for most). Although it sounds more about her voice being on the firing line than anything else, the chorus luxuriates in the force of her vocal ammunition, least we forget she can sing. "There's a thousand faces on me" articulates the suspicion that she probably never takes her make-up off, and her loaded gun is full of ha's beyond the point of parody, but perhaps she's simply all too aware how much of a retread this is. This would be my third single after Blank Page if I had my way.
10/10

Red Hot Kinda Love
Laid-back and frisky retro disco fusion with a Luscious Jackson's Nervous Breakthrough basement party vibe. A subtle pleasure for such a big singer, her diet of sizzling Latin rhythms gives the track a lightweight feel, but Xtina serves it as a palette cleanser for bigger full-throatal earthquakes coming up. Funneling house music and disco influences into a funky cocktail riddled with customized Christina ingredients.
09/10

Make The World Go Round
Exactly what I wanted from them both. Just because it doesn't go anywhere beyond 2 or 3 amazing hooks doesn't mean it's not fun and fashionable. Fashion's a lifestyle, and it's definitely a size 18 squeezed into a size 12, but it's a size 8 from me.
08/10

Fuck Your Body
Spunking her career up the walls, the orifice-ripping chorus is the most memorable of the year so far. "Ha! Alright! Say!" ejaculates something more full-bodied, bitter and delighted with herself than I ever thought possible. Fucked to a pulp, this should have been her biggest hit since the 90s. I've wrote enough about this song already. The sheer onslaught of everything about this track is phenomenal.
10/10

Let There Be Love 
Sounding like not only both Madonna's Girl Gone Wild and Get Together but also something or other by Kelly Rowland, it's the "like that/yeah/let's go" interjections that elevate the album's definitive 'faster than slow' experience into something more memorable than another louder than loud Loud knock-off. Despite being easy to dismiss as heavily bloated and generic, it erupts into a lava flow of euphoria that could only be commanded by Chrissy. However, releasing this would be worse than weed-killer. It gives me a massive smirk to listen to this when walking outside - it's such an experience being a Christina fan.
10/10

Sing For Me
Mining her vast reserves of volume, the lioness of I Am has a lot of pride, with limitless feelings about herself. The powerful shouting gives way to a litter of airy, subtle phrasingy bits at the end, which are divine calm after the shit storm of emotions. Deliberately roughing up her own song to at least try and expand the meaning to the same hugeness as her technical range, it's equal parts glorious and horrendous (the "give me your worst" currency that keeps on paying). The dashing of waltzing piano keys at the 3rd chorus (after THAT key-change) are just lovely.
10/10

Blank Page
Will she ever record a better song than this? The biggest bookmark of her career so far. I've already explained why this song is so important. This song deserves the works from her record label to ensure it becomes a hit. A new page of the American Songbook has been drafted. Is the infected world TOO UNPREPARED for this though? The soft regret of "let our hearts..." the ribbons of spiraling melody and the anguish squeezed out of it all - every second gushes with melancholy, soaring with pain or tenderly overcome, no other song has conveyed emotion on this intimate and powerful level. She completely inhabits this song.
10/10

Cease Fire
Self-governing as ever, Christina's 4 minutes of conflict resolves what took Ireland decades is nothing short of a miracle. I do hear a lot of noise, windows probably will be broken, but I don't think anything is truly set a light and there's not even an f-bomb.
08/10

Around The World
More sexual combat malarkey from Miss Easyjet herself. Getting a lot of mileage from similar production elsewhere (on this album AND in general), this could be anyone. It's rendered noteworthy only because of the Lady Marmalade d-tour as her worldwide Ag slag-a-thon is a bit of a slog. If Bionic was marred by uneveness, then Lotus is flawed only by consistency - the bombastic production is stamped all over the latter half of the album, and the marching drum motif is done better elsewhere. Flying economy, I can certainly get on board with it though. A bit too deliberately hectic and pompous, but wthout the usual fun of being horrible or inappropriate.
07/10

Circles 
The unrelatable put-downs about having more money than she can fold up (so you can shut the fuck up, etc), and near-unrepeatable lyrics (cringe-worthy not shock-worthy) will make this a hard sell, but despite so many sensitive confessions such as "why you always try to be all up in my mixture?" and "you got the smell of my success on your breath, desperate, you're a mess" they actually play second fiddle to a chorus that takes a similar shape to The Breeders' Cannonball. I'm not into the unconvincing screams and forced cackles at the end (they just don't sound spontaneous), and the final "motherfucker" isn't even Max's first 2.0.
10/10

Best of Me
The middle-8, the acoustic guitar bits, and the rare sense of quiet in the weary and sly verses are marvelous. There aren't many other songs showcasing different textures to her voice as opposed to the unrelenting guttural splatter ballads, which makes me fear that if she does go on tour she'll end up sound like Courtney Love at the end of it. "Tough as the nails" many will think are being scratched down the blackboard.
10/10

Just A Fool
The alcoholic within, the opening lyric is very Gaga, and for once she isn't drunk on her own volume. It could work for a country audience, but I don't get the F.U.S.S as a supposed standout above the full-throttle Blank Page, Light Up The Sky, Best of Me and Sing For Me. This is her Cyndi Lauper duets with The Hooters on Boys Will Be Boys moment - a really fine song, but far too middle of the road to be going forward.
09/10

Light Up The Sky
This is major, the verses rekindle the spirit of the best Stripped testifying numbers. The pathos drenched "we can be kings you and I...we light up the sky" is epic in a Rule The World kind of way. Such a special song, it's blazing.
10/10

Empty Words
Because she's not short of them. I can't resist this one either. A really strong build up, the bridges are essential, the chorus and beats DO sound cheapskate, but "the funny thing" melody flushes right through me. A good example of Christina setting a scene of hurt then usurping up into rage-fueled glee about being unbeatable and immune to people who don't agree with her. Stunning, all the while really showing off the shades of her voice well.
10/10

Shut Up
Christina pleased with her own mood as usual, she really does get a kick out herself kicking someone else's ass. If only Back To Basics sounded like this. The way she sings "ego" is so patronizing and brilliant to me, plus the way she doesn't sing the chorus is both those things too. The bleep actually works rhythmically, a rare benefit of Xtina censoring herself.
10/10

 All the ha's, grunting and other typical Xtina distinctions are fully engaged with the vague concept of going mainstream, but it's a pity she so far isn't managing to get past the commercial stumbles that occurred when it occurred to her how meaningful and artistic she really could be. Personally I love the ravaged, constant straining to soar in every single song. The sap-free first half opens up into a much more emotional landscape, but the sexual combat jollies and defiant protection of self value all belong to the same stem with production motifs and her trademark nuances holding everything together. The scandal of her vocals are well over the edge of glory: with her vocals she'll never compromise and Lotus really is unbreakable. It's her best ever album, and if you don't like it fuck you and just shut the fuck up, etc.

Ultimate Pop Star Countdown: 35-31

31.  Christina Aguilera - Little Dreamer / Dirrty 

The melancholic disco lullaby Little Dreamer is packed in the same pop noir suitcase as Rachel’s Nothing Good About This Goodbye and Margaret Berger’s Robot Song. At least in my head.  Dirrty, on the other hand, was the first of its kind in terms of today's modern female pop star launching an album with a tour-de-force full-pelt club banger. It remains massive club song staple in the UK.

32.  Corona - Baby Baby

Rampant and bullet-proof  eurodance, Sandy’s uncredited vocal hysteria and Olga’s equator-stretching grin was the complete package as far as 90s dance anthems go.

33.  Sister Sledge - Thinking of You

Blue sky disco pop, radiant and still fresh. So clean and pure it’s like they’ve dental-flossed their vocals. Timeless.

34.  PJ Harvey - A Perfect Day Elise

Muffled goth clatter, a monstrous bass that sounds alive, Polly’s weird and eerie vocal, and overall perverse theatrical vamping that enhanced where she’d left off on 1995's To Bring You My Love. Taken from her career-best? Is This Desire?

35.  Ace of Base - Never Gonna Say I'm Sorry

 Sulky and defiant.  The one song to maintain their trademark whistle-motif from The Sign. Cock-blocked from the UK charts, it missed the Billboard Hot 100 altogether after their US record label seemed somewhat displeased at almost every aspect of their output by this point.

Xtina Gets Nasty (Again)

It took a flop marriage, flop album and hit TV show, but finally Christina Aguilera keeps getting better. Nasty, her collabo with her co-judge from The Voice, is supposedly an outtake from Burlesque sessions, but actually puts the majority of that soundtrack to shame. It's funky and another showcase for her unmistakable howl. Following its leak, Ceelo has suggested the two might perform it on their show, but I'm happy for @therealXtina to get on @therealTreadmill for 6 months first and then do something musically. I'm kidding of course - I love chubby Christina, and truthfully want more songs like I Am and All I Need.

@guilera @nd Spe@rs @re @ it on twitter

Ever since evergreen beauty Madonna reached out and asked "Hey Britney, you say you wanna become a shadow of your former vacant self, look like a drugged-out hooker doing a walk of shame and bare your soul?" and giggled something about coming over here to show off her gym-ripped vagina, well Christina has been patiently waiting to pluck her pubes and pluck up the courage to make a similar statement that would send shockwaves around Mansion Aguilera if not the world. Literally days ago now, @TheRealXtina blurted out on twitter:

Hey @BritneySpears Congrats on Femme Fatale release! Can't wait to see what you bring in the next video. xo - Xtina

Word is Christina had to make 5 attempts typing her message, but Diva Incarnate has found the original message deemed too 'raw and organic' for twitter. Found on a used sanitary towel in Nicole Richie's trashcan, Aguilera's first attempt at reaching out to the dead-eyed How I Roll singer was less kind than the eventual passive-aggression she settled on:

Hey @BritneySpears - just fell off my thrown Lol-ing at ur attempts to not look like a gangraped tranny in headlights on GMA. Congrats! xo - Xtina

Not one to just sit there drooling onto her bib, at least not too long, Britney was soon spoonfed some calpul and groaned once to give the okay for her people to form a sentence and pretend it was written by the sometimes singer (who also had a song called Sometimes). Only a matter of 60 minutes later Aguilera finally got the global acclaim she had been after and got a responce:

Thanks @TheRealXtina. Can't wait to watch you on your new show. Hope we get to hear that voice on The Voice. -Brit

Kind of cruel to knock a flop singer, flop actress, flop mother, flop lesbian, flop wife and flop tweeter when she's down, but Diva Incarnate also learned of what Britney originally wanted to respond with. This time the words were written using red and yellow crayons, on the back of a prescription thrown out the window of her car as the singer was driven to KFC:

HEEEEEEEEEEEEEELP!!!!!

The message was found by an unknown Lohan doing community service, but no alarms were raised as Tom Cruise has repeatedly told police that Katie Holmes pulls the same "prank" 2 or 3 times a week and is a "new game" that slightly out of it-looking LA celebrities like to play in order to stay down to earth and regular.

Xtina-Factor: Beware of the Glare

Christina Aguilera’s trademark disdain for anything that shares oxygen with her is what can make the Beautiful singer awesome sometimes – on last night's UK weekly televised national standstill extravaganza the X-Factor, she managed to smile at finalist-contestant Rebecca-something when the poor Liverpudlian dullard was too overwhelmed to even sing, and I did notice that when they held hands there was no blood or anything (Christina has a heart of gold you see). Promoting Burlesque (UK cin!emas 17 December), Xtina belted out the soundtrack highlight Express in spectacularly trampy style. Forget her stodgy dancing inability, she exuded star power from start to finish. However, my favourite moment was not hearing host Dermot O'Leary - who had a MICROPHON! - and then storming off stage when he professionally cut her off. Deee-Vaah!

Also guesting and upstaging the riff-raff, superstar Rihanna was fucking awesome: her sizzling entrance smouldered like some camp Marlene Detrich vehicle, and her spectacular sizing up of poor, fidgety Matt was simply incredible and hilarious. Her vocals are what glues her songs together – the sound of her timbre is so distinctive and, especially live, she is gaining more and more control over it as times goes by. I had shamelessly not even heard her US number 1 What’s My Name untill tonight and will be buying the album in the morning when I go xmas shopping - so expect a review any day soon!

Christina & Cher - Burlesque OST (2010)

I might have been one of the few who found a lot to enjoy in Christina's genre-gauntlet album Bionic, but even I find it a cause for some celebration that what stands as a makeshift stop-gap solo album is a return to the kind of cohesive projects that artists are commercially thriving on these days: singers need to stick to an image and/or aesthetic and be prepared to work their asses off to sell it. A fan of metaphors to explain her 'superwoman' role as a singer, mom, woman, working woman, and working woman who is also a mom, Christina just bought too many hats you see. Cher knows better; she wears wigs instead. The presence of the Oscar winning icon takes some of the weight of Christina's admittedly swelling shoulders and helps the focus stay on its origin as a soundtrack and not in fact another chance for the Genie singer to flop.

Her fog-horn take on Something's Got A Hold On Me is deaf-defying in the best and worst possible ways. Fans of the extended whoa-ness Aguilera has been know to favour - or as she might say faaa-a-a-avou-whooa-r, ha -are in for a treat.

We move into Cher world next for the female Elvis's Welcome To Burlesque, a perfunctory verion of the Pussycat Doll's Sway. Cher emotes crazy masculine innuendos and expressive androgyny, her gravy-gargling delivery could excell singing the phonebook and this comes close to proving it. Sung like a pro. Candyman part two, Tough Lover is another bulldozer vocal from Xtina.

Doing her best Madeline 'I See Me' Ashton impersonation (the opening-and-only-song from the film Death Becomes Her), But I Am A Good Girl is a swanky number that namedrops and flirts with everything but a memorable tune. Most impotent of all, A Guy What Takes His Time is a meddling Back To Basics style number - no one gets finished off on this one.

The first show-stopper, Express is a shamelessly indulgent hybrid of snapping, horns and fizzing synths. Christina's hissing cheerleader taunts are some of her highest peaks of an entire career: 'love, sex, ladies no regrets' is still sucking Madonna's dick, but wailing ever more it's never not obvious who she is.

Turn Back Time and a few others aside, I'm not a fan of Diane Warren, so I know what to expect with Cher's final number You Haven't Seen The Last of Me. Glum and knocked down, Cher's throaty gusto gets going warbling on a hard-to-not-feel-touched-by middle-8 and spectacularly diva-identified sentiments. Seek out the Dave Gaude remix.

Above: Whoopsie, wrong film!

One of the few things many seemed to agree about Bionic was that the highlights were the songs co-written by Sia, and Bound To You here is a reminder of how good those songs truly are. Not too dissimilar to All I Need, the lower temperatures of Christina's voice are huskier, sometimes smoother and more beautiful than her gigantic enactments of emotions that probably don't even exist.

The flashy Show Me How You Burlesque begins acapella once more, with a familiar frenzy of clicks, snaps and horns soon ensuing. Duck for cover if it's not your thang. There was a hilarious moment when Christina recently performed this on the American dance show Dancing With The Stars, when singing 'let me hear you say ... yeah-yeah-yeah-whoahh-yeah' knowing full well no one was going to be able to even try to go yeah-yeah-yeah-whoahh-yeah. Hard to believe it hasn't been until now, The Beautiful People half-samples/half-covers the Marilyn Manson classic. It's the most exciting and playful the girl has sounded since Come On Over.

A shame not to hear more of an ensemble (for example, a witty group number excluding Christina might have fitted the story and saved us from one of the weaker of her interchangebale solo songs), a relief to have Christina, sort of, functioning as a credible pop star once more, the album peaks in its second half. Cher's grandeur more than matches the vocal dynamism of her co-star, and Christina's more playful tracks (Express and The Beautiful Poeple) invigorate her questionable image once more after the commerically stale performance of Bionic.

Rating:
6.5/10

Cher's Red Carpet Therapy Session

Just look at this - Cher is still surviving those close-ups (nevermind the soldiers in Iraq, that is what I call bravery). Cher laughs off Christina's marriage break-up in wonderfully frank terms: "that just happens ... break-ups happen! ... you know, they just happen! ... she'll deal with it!" she nodds furiously to a reporter on the red carpet. Cher's legacy is further confirmed by a wig so natural she could pass for a really pale member of En Vogue, her lips have been all her's since 2003, and her contribution to the Burlesque soundtrack will soon be wetting the appetites of her rabid fans who have been waiting for new Cher music since her emotionally anthemic ballad Human was included on her last film Stuck On You's soundtrack way back in 2003!

Official Burlesque Poster

Who knew that the cringetastic flop Connie & Carla would get a sequel with actual drag queens in it?

Burlesque Trailer

So by the looks of it, we have a new Mommie Dearest on our hands, Christina has the best song that wasn't already on Back To Basics and Cher looks as beautifully masculine as ever. Cannot wait!

Gabs & Xtina 'Drop' New Videos For Flop Ballads

Above: Xtina won't be having no sleepover hits she spat at fans via twitter last night, only bissexual sleepovers, and told her followers to wake her up once You Lost Me hits number one all over the world if not then just Israel where the tranny look has always been appreciated.

Watching both new videos from Christina Aguilera and Gabriella Cilmi today, played back to back, was a little bittersweet. Both You Lost Me and Defender are touching, moist and, yes, 'rawer and more vulnerable' than forgetting your condoms for an orgy with the local ivory poachers in Kenya.

Unfortunately, it could not be more apparant that these two A-list divas are not quite striking a chord with radio stations and record buyers alike. Whereas Madame X crammed in as much shit on her album as possible, Cilmi kept it simple by focusing on juicy melodies that are let down only by a frumpy mid 90s production makeover, which admittedly I am very fond of as a style given the glossy electro that squeazes out guey deposits such as Love Me Cos You Want To, What If You Knew (which does its best to rip off Sex On Fire) and the faintly-whiffy Superhot.

Above: more moist than a forgotten tampon, gritty grimacer Defender won't get past the borders of the top 40 without a grenade of pelting remixes.

Both videos are moody affairs. Glib Gab's clip looks like a hidden level of the vintage PC game Doom, as she strips off and wanders through various corridors asking for trouble, only it's the singer herself who appears to be at the recieving end of someone off-camera shooting their load on her with considerable aplomb. I am only disappointed that the video's best scene isn't Gabriella getting her fake tan on. It is almost ironic that Cilmi at least does have a decent enough hit under her belt from this campaigh, but despite the bulldozing chorus I'm not that blown away by On A Mission as I was by the yodelling middle-8 from Xtina's shoplifted ensemble of disparate hooks thrown together on Not Myself Tonight.

And on the other hand, poor Christina pays tribute to Cyndi Lauper's True Colours video with some flashy invert moments of spiritual salvation. It is this woman's ballads that make the biggest statement on Bionic and she blew it not releasing this first with a vdeo that was able to visualise the lush and misty particles of a melancholia 'somehow' found neglected by a peice of film that is admittedly impressive with its colour transitions and star sparkles of 'magic, eugh' etc. At least she has the decency to cop a feel of the male model's pecs as she pretends to push him away - being married to a hobbit and pretending to be bissexual can't be much fun you know.

Speaking of enjoyment, the heroic Hex Hector remix is the most hilarious peice of dance since the same DJ tarted up Diana Ross' Until We Meet Again, so you can't say the singer doesn't have a decent sense of humour to see her through the dark ages of her career.

Can Cher & Christina Both Be Comeback Queens?

Thanks to Mr Will-W's Pop Maven blog I was alerted to the best news in cinema since something completely not ironic, new promotional stills from Cher's comeback movie Burlesque have leaked exclusively to American newspaper US Today (I still remember reading that rag back in 1994 when I was in Florida and Ace of Base were on the cover).

Cher's strikingly confident cinematic pressence is assured, if the material is dire she can just look bored and still be Oscar-worthy. The picture marks the screen debut ofunder-duress singer Christina Aguilera, and being in the middle of Bionic's embarassing non-starting performance I feel genuinely bad for her (personally I really enjoy that album).

However, I see parallels in these two women - both have a charismatic taste for the ostentatious, Cher has endured many flop albums (her career-best Stars LP went nowhere in 1975) and Aguilera has the talent and image to last the distance if only she can soften her persona perhaps as Cher found a way to hide her shyness through unexpectedly delightful flair for deadpan.

If Christina gets to do enough numbers (that she nails) then her acting might not matter. I hope Cher gets more than just one song, or if she does that it is a big BIG one. I am also pleased to see that it looks as if the dark lady might have some sort of gaybestfriend or gayassistant to light up some uber snappy dialogue with.

Christina Aguilera - You Lost Me (Radio Edit)

Where do I start?

The first 'we-e-e-e-e' bit sounds gorgeous with the added bass

The first chorus sounds like two different youtube clips are playing.

2nd 'we-e-e-e-e' bit sounds even better than the album version.

And we are safe: 2nd chorus sounds ever grander and reaches a higher emotional summit than the album edit achieves.

So anyway, I can live with it.

Christina Aguilera - Piano Vs The Pussy

Christina Aguilera is to be praised for completing her hat-trick of albums that set out to achieve a you'll-never-top-this result. More interested in conceiving a baby than hits? Corny but no doubt expensive sonics flesh out her prefab concept of Lesbo-Mommy: The Pop Diva Partial To A Bit of Cock Now & Again, and vibrate through every track some way or another.

Bionic begins rather uninvitingly with its melody-reluctant title track, mumbling her gameplan in trite gansta stylee. It's is really an electronic disco number glorified as something avant garde, with the chrome-plated 'are you ready to go' bridge peaks being so fleeting and high it's just a pity more couldn't have been built around these exhilirating moments of electro-voltage. There is something divisive about impregnable boasting, especially when the chorus her bloodthirsty critics are waiting to pounce on is more interested in sounding heavier, noisier and confrontational. It grows on you, and I prefer it vastly to Ain't No Other Man.

Venomously lubricated, Not Myself Tonight is a tornado of a vocal showcase for Christina, as if a natural disaster is ensuing and she is panicking to get all her range crammed into her song as a metaphorical suitcase. Self-coaching herself to 'get crazy', 'kiss boys and girls' and 'not give a fuck', her power-steering throat power manages to dominate some pretty rapid swervings: someonecallthadoctorcosathinkalostmamind is hilariously akward 90s chatshow speak that almost threatens to give Ricki Lake a job again. The song straps you in safely and gets you from A to B within 2 minutes 18 seconds - the rest is merely for the cool down. 'Yeah, I needed that' is more solo talk getting herself in the mood - who else is there to keep up with her? Her trigger-happy verses and bridge build speed for the turtle-head chorus - a lot of effort goes to getting it out, if at all (it sounds like the girl is gonna need to call the doctor for a lot of toilet roll if that 'movement' eventually does arrive). She goes full-pelt for well over a minute and the brute force of the skidmarking middle-8 is indicated when a gang of faceless black men chant '1, 2, 3, fo' before a skyward 'not toni-i-i-i-i-i-ight' cackles with sobering rage or fury or else simply mosochistic euphoria. Whatever attitude is being conveyed (I see it as one big glossy lick of the ultimate in-the-club facade that drag queens must dream of exuding), an intense series of accelerations and you'll-wanna-hear-this moments stand in the way of an actual song, but that's its stroke of genius. Christina on the rampage for a melody is an engaging quest, the experience of a highly skilled vocalist grappling to find herself a hit - it shouldn't be like this, and I can relate. This is her off-the-pedastal performance as the ultimate alpha bitch trying to impress her claque of cringey gays who'd z-snap Susan Boyle stepping out a changing room in BHS. I meekishly include myself as one of them. Not really.

Healthy independent sluts know to get their 5-a-day helpings of fruit and vadge. Serving her fanny with no plate is just fucking rude, and presumably she'll be asking the guy to bring his own 'salad cream' as well, ha. The signified single-entedre vadge-tastic titsilation of Whoohoo, ha! momentarily hesitates to flirt with her vague concept of furry-bits futurism as is necessary, ha. Instead, tastefully vulgar playground chants like typsy hookers jeering for business overtake focus and I love it, ha. Aguilera might be delusional, but she clearly enjoys being trashy as hell, ha. Christina 'dripping like a lolly' has to be down there with Britney's gammon slices hanging out her leotard, ha. 'Licky licky yum yum' probably means she's had a wash at least, but 'bitches keep it clean ha' stinks of fish regardless, ha. Christina's sense of orafice pleasure has no hesitation, which merely exaggerates the hilarity, and her unmistakably innate self-involved flair for inadvertant sarcasm is perfect for this low-brow smut, ha!

Melantronic mechanical riot Elastic Love (rhymed with 'spastic love') sadly is not about a secret Down's Syndromme lover (she is so 'out there' it's only a matter of time, etc) - they beat themselves off in public on their own accord anyway, and I am sure Christina would probably only go and use them for an innovative music video as opposed to real love, which is more of a Jessica Simpson thing to do. The deadpan verses are foreplay for the PC blurting chorus, making it one of the bloodiest cuts here. Sharp and useless utterances from start to finish: in other words it's amazing.

Chrsitina's pan-sexual/pan-ethnic quest continues on Desnudate, sort of like vintage J-Lo meets Jai Ho (others have compared it to Britney's Get Naked (I Got A Plan), but when Aguilera sings so it sounds more like the PCD's 'I'll take it'). Flaunting her Latina identity as if it's fading faster than the 90s did for Kelly Llorenna, the vadge-alicious vertiginous chorus catches its breath to appreciate some rather glorious percussion and evaporating synths as the track fades. Rigidly forward, and stubornly faceless - just as well she's into gimp masks.

Sneering self-confidence is clearly no embarassment for Xtina on Prima Donna. She ain't no Hollaback Girl. The undignified record is full of what this track is about: grunting and grimey melodica; except where it samples 90s dance classic I Feel It by The Tamperet ft. Maya - this is my favourite thing about this track, which vocally is the sound of an obese person suffocating you with their arm-pit, and detached from the simmery synths it's just aggressively bad. A Fat Man Scoop soundalike officially calls it a day.

Minimilist Vogue serum and 'get the look bitches' jam Glam sounds like it's screaming for Heidi Montag to cover it. For those enlightened enough to appreciate this, it's definately worth her teeth-gritting interlude before it. 'Ready, steady, now go, bitches'.

When I wake up after sharing a bed all I want to do is run to the bathroom and wash my hayfever eyebags away nevermind slobber my bad breath as I get down and finish where I left off, but Sex For Breakfast is a creamy and welcome change of paste (spelling intentional) that has been unfairly accused of sounding like a Janet Jackson album track. It would have been a standout on Back To Basics, and for one thing Janet would need to be able to sing to have recorded it for a start. This is about vocal intonations, softly layered like crawling under Egyptian cotton sheets. Christina emerging proudly from under the sheets declaring 'all done' is hilariously disgusting - she obviously swallowed, as if she hadn't she would have said 'mind the wet patch' like I do...

Dreamy soul flasher Lift Me Up is a soaring, piano-soaked torch song and well done listeners for getting there. Her faintly-ersatz black woman range is wide least we forget, and not just physically. She doesn't half go on about being a do-it-all Mother, and when she sings big you can imagine she gave birth that way as well. I had no time for these numbers on her previous career-best album Stripped, but they might just turn out to be the very thing that can save this witch-hunted DOA project. When she sings with genuine heart there is simply no need, if you enjoy it, to debate her floptina-age, as personally I am lifting the ballads to safety as they are songs for life. This one isn't as showstopping as You Lost Me, but there is something about the understated yearning vocally and musically that really absorbs me into an eye-blurry state of sensitive silliness. When her untamably wild roars go off like fireworks, I just hope her transition into soaring siren does not go above people's heads or even ears.

The seductively formative I Am strips herself completely of The Voice Within style Disney seepage, where she imbues every note with a sharpness as if they are cut with scissors, singing as if half apologising carefully and stubbornly without reducing herself to begging for any acceptance that isn't on her own terms (coming clean: 'I am a woman' she sings helpfully). The effect is more powerful that way. Vocally she is more spread out on this album, even if somewhat inevitably Aggy will be accused of simply imitating the idiosyncratic artists who have co-written some of these songs with or without her.

Proving she is bigger than her love blender, All I Need is a mid-afternoon after-hours-sounding jazz affair. Vocals spiralling with gentle relinquishing, the worry of love not being happiness tends to linger.

Giving the goosebumps on an album's second half that is obsessed with finding herself, You Lost Me severs the ties of a relationship with the devastated emotional insanity that characteristically veers from tender self-pity to moon-howling grief. To me this already sounds like the best song she is ever likely to record. It defines melancholic human emotions on a much bigger and richer scale than, e.g, the message of the career-defining Beautiful which was force-fed by comparison. Her singular talent flickers so vividly that her va-j-j doesn't get a look in. A genuinely staggering moment that deserves to be huge for her.

Aggressive lesbionic anthem I Hate Boys sounds uncanilly similar to Keeps Gwenning Better during its verses. It boasts the album's easiest and catchiest choruses. Like a bimbo macho Portobello, it's a bitter lesbian's wet dream but so commercially driven I don't think guys will particularly care.

My favourite song of this proudly incoherent album is the violent ego of Vanity, a thigh chaffing disco rhythm that's itchier than crabs. 'Where's my Queens who live supreme? Let me hear you scream' really ought to offend me (I remember booing Beverley Knight for a similar holler during her performance at the Big Gay Out in 2005). However, Christina asserts her 'Queens' as equals, which given the big old erection slapping you in the face here that is her ego, is quite the backhanded back-door compliment. 'I make myself so much wetter' slams her pussy, and 'I'm a bad ass bitch' is what Motherhood in the future is all about. Skanktastic embarassment that is just as atrociously amazing as Vanilla's girls-together incredulity or some of Geri's worst offences.

Celebrating having a vagina (you'd think she was a tranny jumping off the operating table such is her excitement), the Sheryl Crow-going My Girls is dirty dyke disco with girlie-bitch interjections and a predatory manouveur via the effortlessly amazing Peaches ('I like a mullet or two, below the waist').

Bionic is a cause for concern - at the time of writing Christina Aguilera is mere hours from singing live on one of America's highest rated TV shows, the season finale of American Idol. Not Myself Tonight has been released and sank after a brief peak of #23 on the Billboard Hot 100. Stripped also suffered the afront of an underperforming lead single, Dirrty, reaching only #48, but was rescured by the rush-release of Beautiful. Furthermore, the spitting cagefighter imagery could not have been further away from the vampiric-Mariah ingenue of The Voice Within. The point is, this album by way of it's genre-grenade speudo-futuro funk with the occaisional stunner has the space to pull it back for her. I am genuinely captivated by her aloof unlikeable challenge. When the music softens she excells beyond the criticisms festering on messageboards and even blogs alike (which, no irony deliberately intended, we all know doesn't always come to much - it's the Simon Cowell final-most-brutal-criticism pursuit for that fine art that's known as being a cunt, but I digress). With her perspiring sailor-blushing middle-8s, the secondhand homegirl squirt of Glam and the more vampy bissexual vibes of Vanity, the waspy alpha 'more is more' girl bravado never gets tired - her much publicized Xtina persona persued in different manners, all seemingly unleashing her rotten ambition to bloat her albums with whatever her idea of being the best at every kind of sex sounds like. The grown up ballads are by far the best of her career, giving the album some much needed armor, and since she has the pipes, why not, like, use them to prove why she's the biggest stuck up unapologetic bitch who owns the thrown fo' sure?