Ultimate Pop Star Countdown: 15-11

11. Gina G - Ooh Ahh ... Just A Little Bit

From it’s immediately recognisable camp siren, it’s gushing sprint to articulate her groin-orientated feelings, and simultaneously the most embarrassing song to own up to loving (oh yes it is).  My obsession with Gina just won’t ever diminish. The album was a total fluke of course, but it was near immaculate (only the soggy Missing You Like Crazy wasn’t invited to the party). Every track a dance-pop convulsion or ballad with a sleek and chic mid-tempo gloss, MYLK might only have been a remix away from sounding just as polished, but Fresh! is Gina getting to have her cake and eat it quite frankly - everything about the songs and presentation felt so ripe, the songs at their best are bursting with Gina's gushing lyrics and the fast-lane Motiv8/Metro production adrenaline. Album highlights include the swooning Ti Amo, rampant Rhythm of My Life ("my brother doesn't like you, my sister thinks your cool" is blurted out in typical blushing speeed from Gina), sumptuous I Belong To You, kitsch hollering of the title track, the emotional peak of It Doesn't Mean Goodbye, the flamenco-flutter of Everytime I Fall (although the essential versions are the Todd Terry pop radio edit and the Metro dance version), the euro-groove of Gimme Some Love, the fixated Hi-NRG mantra on the giddy head-spin of Higher Than Love and the floaty trance-wave of Follow The Light.

12. Dannii Minogue - All I Wanna Do

Dannii’s plaintive vocals and the majestic production splendour were something of a revalation for the then sibling-obscured Australian singer. Sultry self-loathing or just lust and morbid self-inspection – she is almost certainly singing this song to herself, a craving to connect and face rejections head on.  After her remarkable make-over at the time, I imagine this must be what looking in the mirror must have felt like: so much wide-eyed marvel and euphoric stillness trying to convince or take it all in, but haunted by overwhelming disbelief.  It’s a compelling lyric, and her finest composition to date.  Aching for an illusion she seems to articulate an equal amount of contempt for ("I may not be the innocent girl that you wanted me to be"), and her confessional anguish might be restless but the delivery is remarkably poised and accomplished (not to mention deliciously cold in places), which creates a synergy between the internal themes she wrestles with. The appealing production is an illuminated cascade of graceful dance sounds - no other song on the album Girl quite matched this elaborate construction.  The album's other highlights included the regal and orchestral Disremembrance (imagine Ladytron meets Whigfield), the low key Am I Dreaming that washes over you, Heaven Can Wait (this one sounds lifted from a 60s Dionne Warwick record, and also ignites into its definitive dance incarnation on the strident Trouser Enthusiasts remix), the ecstatic Movin' Up, giving Italian diva Alexia a run for her euro on the rampant piano stampede on Keep Up With The Good Times, the deliciously twisted post-divorce calculation of the dark speed-ballad So In Love With Yourself, and the introspective Everything I Wanted.  However, the treacling and jubilant scintilation of the original 'Innocent Girl Mix' edit that appeared on the belated Unleashed collection, which remains the definitive Dannii long-player (somewhat ironically surpassing her botched greatest hits job with luxurious ease), has additional ad libs that are absolutely crushing in their prettiness and introduce new persuasive subtilties: coinciding with the drum and bass hurriedly splashing like water, spritzing synthesizers that beam like rays of sunlight, and swirling currents of indispensable 90s dance decadence par excellence creating the irresistible rippling charge, usurping melancholic momentum and optimum setting for Dannii's intriguing lyrical bite and enticingly expressive nasal-navigated vocal juice to truly shine.

13. Depeche Mode - Enjoy The Silence

The perfect pop song, drenched in gleaming synths, house music pumping galore, Dave's distilled drawl and impish beauty on the verge of destruction, the lingering backing vocal, world-weary verses, an awe-struck chorus that remains jaw-dropping in both its sheer intensity and simplicity, and not a second wasted.

14. Kim Wilde - Can You Hear It / You Came

You Came is her best full-pelt single, but the slinky ballad Can You Hear It has a sulky appeal washed into a mixture of regal nu-wave. Kim has a habit of blowing me away with her gentle serenades such as this, Thought It Was Goodbye and Someday.

15. Spice Girls - Move Over / Spice Up Your Life

Move Over, to me, is the blueprint for the style of No Good Advice, a chorus and spat out soundbites like graffiti. The most exciting time being a Spice Girls fan: anticipating THAT second album.  I still know the dance routine to Spice Up Your Life and am only ever a full bottle of vodka away from proving it.  Move Over was like their mission statement beyond being the Madonna’s next door girls or whatever.

Kim Wilde - Snapshot tracklisting revealed

Here we are folks, the dream we've all dreamed of. Green-fingered goddess Kim Wilde has revealed the tracklisting for her covers album Snapshot and, as far as these stopgap projects go, it is not too shabby. You can be the judge:

01. It's Alright (East 17)
02. In Between Days (The Cure)
03. About You Now (Sugababes)
04. Sleeping Satellite (Tasmin Archer)
05. To France (Mike Oldfield)
06. A Little Respect (Erasure)
07. Remember Me (Diana Ross)
08. Anyone Who Had A Heart (Dionne/Dusty/Cilla)
09. Wonderful Life (Black)
10. They Don't Know About Us (Kirsty MacColl)
11. Beautiful Ones (Suede)
12. Just What I Needed (The Cars)
13. Ever Fallen In Love (With Someone) (Buzzcocks)
14. Kooks (David Bowie)


Originally released by the Triga-chic East 17, It's Alright reached #2 in Kim's main market Germany so I guess she is picking some clever songs. This version may be slightly tame, but it does the trick. Kim has recorded 2 other music videos: for Sleeping Satellite and To France.

If you can't wait for the album, try reading some of my previous in-depth, track by track Kim Wilde album reviews here.

Kim Wilde - Come Out and Play (2010)

After her RNB ruin with 1995’s Now & Forever, and 2001’s half-encouraging Never Say Never never bothered to offer enough new stuff, Kim Wilde figures out a better way to make a solid album, sounding revitalized and blistering on Come Out & Play. Her intermittently ‘wasted’ 90s career sag feels inadvertently juxtaposed against indications of MILF lust at 50 and other life satisfactions and concerns rise to the surface with either visceral appetite or tender healing – to hear her sing in such a fleshed out manner is an elation. If I was harsh I would say there are plenty of bangs, just not all dynamite as the simmering production blends some of the tracks together a bit too effectively, but rest assured Kim throws her weight around and is back at the summit of what she does best. Hard and fast surfaces are in her sights, but steering further a field are more specialized treats that have long been divided into her albums throughout her career.

Fizzy cork-popping pop opener King of The World assumes her throne as Queen of the electro-stompers that have kept her family fed, garden green and gays from self-destruction throughout her 30 year longevity. A touching tribute to a late friend, Kim’s guilty guitar aggression is a hot flush of kinaesthesia reminiscent of Cyndi Lauper’s It’s Hard To Be Me. The surprise of such a killer chorus certainly boosts its significant charge. As it crumbles, the most beautiful cinematic flourish fades out and scatters the remains.

The electric strut of the discriminating Lights Down Low is an unequivocal career high, with Kim’s vocals piercing like lightning strikes. Exploiting her unique vocal infatuation and focus that made Never Trust A Stranger so fiercely erotic, surly and fuck-you, the chorus could extend to infinity.

Possibly the biggest surprise here, the emotional force on Real Love is the albums principal revelation. Emboldened by a dance-rock principle, its romantic air is on par with The Killers’ Human. World-weary and stoic, armies have marched over this one, but at least she has a ‘story to tell’. Kim’s been favouring these slushy ripples for years (check out her post-Close albums tracks for evidence), but nothing was ever this melodic, elegant and lush. Dance orientated and liberated.

The atmospheric jungle of Greatest Journey could be the closest she has ever come to replicating the dismal perfection of Cambodia. Kim is on fine, appalled-sounding form alongside the claustrophobic studio escapism, but I don’t like the invasion of Glenn Gregory’s vocals – it seems Kim will do anything to make sure she gets a toilet break whilst on stage.

Even at 50 it is never too late to be a spoilt brat, but I Want What I Want is loud and cunning. Splintering guitar glamour clamours the senses and a firm bass elevates it from being simply a slice of mindlessly bouncy Buffy soundtrack bopper fodder, but it’s a narrow escape.

Sludgy life-learner Love Conquers All is a squeaky-clean synthesised ballad. Whatever happened to the luxuriant gloom of Can You Hear It and Someday? Kim is capable of better. This is complacent by comparison, and a bit of a soggy tampon left out in the rain. On the plus side, it has a faintly chilly stargazing ambience to it – nicer than I make out actually.

Investing from the same rugged guitar sleaze of Personal Jesus by Depeche Mode (she is a fan after all), and evoking Marilyn Manson’s ‘hey you, what do you say’ mantra from his song Beautiful People, her own cut-price Hey You has a tough adventure finding its own appeal. Jamelia got there first and did it better - sadly this song borrows all its credit from elsewhere, but expensive sounds are always a solid match for her.

Hopefully not the career, the thrilling-spree of Suicide is erratic with erotic chaos. A fine stompy romp, singing like there is a bad taste in her mouth brings out the not that bad in her. Admittedly mannered, it’s still entrancing.

Tripping over the same beats as Katrina and The Waves (well almost – go with me on it), the frenzied zip monster This Paranoia concerns itself with a slick licking of cute hooks (the rhyme is ‘what’s in doing for ya?’), frenetic posturing, strident production and seductive terrace chanting.

Sadly not a BT cover, gothic affliction gets serious on Loving You More, whoring out her piano player and aided by hovering synth flapping whilst fondly scowling on the subject of her ‘darkest days’ – the song is obviously about getting her roots done. I am only disappointed at how heavy this track becomes given how intriguing the initial warm strumming sounds are, with just an acoustic guitar, which threaten to bring out a different shade to the techno tints elsewhere.

Returning to her other roots, the sharp and slinky pop incision Get Out gets plenty with a full-facial of face-pulling deliverance. Cut clean from the blubber, this is juicier and full of optimistic affront. Her vocals sting sharp enough on the chorus to make even serial-syringer Kylie raise her non-raised left eyebrow; basically Kim is causing a big stink about getting a guy out of her bed ASAP (what would her kids think, etc).

Stunning us with an uncharacteristically guitar-driven surge of electricity, pop-ska sky-rocket My Wish Is Your Command is a more than functioning rock-spiked frolic and its blistering accusation is undeniable. Waltzing closer Jessica is almost unexplainably (even there) brilliant. Soft, sultry and whimsical, Kim has rarely sounded so spontaneous – there will be no excuse for not performing such a rare-sounding song on tour that only lasts 90 seconds.

Heavy on guitar and fizzy synthesizers, Come Out & Play is her most viscerally engaged album since 1987’s career peak Close. With a re-charged relish for the raunchy and raucous, highlights include the kinesthetic testimony of King of The World, the salaciously blinding bait-biter Lights Down Low, getting revelatory to the glistening rhythm on Real Life, the Goth-tinged noise of This Paranoia and Jessica wherein Kim conclusively proves she can still proffer a deft array of surprises. Thriving in the fast lane throughout much on offer makes the experience a little blurry in places, but this is quickly remedied with isolated selection and recurrent listening – just a few scarcely avoid crashing into faceless territory, but Kim’s sharp pursuit is as unwavering as ever. It is so good it’s hard to imagine it not being everyone’s favorite new Kim Wilde album – there is not one rotten song on this.

Rating:

8.5/10

Kim Wilde - Love Is (1992)

The artistic migration of Kim Wilde from Debbie Harry variant to glossy wind-machine pop goddess suffered somewhat with 1990s Love Moves relative sales failure, but the singer enjoyed something of a minor commercial rebirth with her 8th album Love Is in 1992. Kim’s pop professionalism fuses real pop sounds onto her stock and trade electronic open fire numbers. Buying herself a hit single, the album is more than mere money-music and the L.A Confidential before L.A Confidential imagery proved just what a bombshell she really was.

Smart enough to realise she needed a hit, Rick Nowels investment Love Is Holy saw the singer damage the UK top 15 for the first time in 5 years. Now posing as Belinda Carlisle, Kim is a lover not a fighter, don’t forget it. The chorus is nonsensical feminine-not-female weakness but a tune-burst nonetheless.

A mite fresher with ideas, the chugging scrutiny of Who Do You Think You Are is another mirror-gazing 1-on-1 session between Kim and Kim only. Possessing a self-aware flair for sounding like Madonna’s Jimmy Jimmy is much yummier than I am making it sound.

Needing to grab a clue, Touched By Your Magic cops a feel with sun-kissed guitar strumming that warms her up to sing about ‘waiting so long’ and scenarios without touching stuff being ‘more than I could bare’. Enough nutrients make it a healthy choice for those inclined that way.

Escaping like light, the razor sharp surfaces of I Believe In You speed through with the same killer instinct I expect from a classic Kim head-jerk electro off-the-leash stomper. Punching just as hard as a Roxette lead single, Kim’s cut-glass vocals clasp together the fast-paced sounds like a lump in the throat. This would have been my choice for second single – like I always say, the rougher the sensation the better.

Eventually making its point, the wobbly ballad I Won’t Change The Way That I Feel has softer ideas and Kim has an even harder time making me feel anything at all.

A-Ha moment Million Miles Away’s gleaming synths flare up majestically whilst piano keys fall like raindrops, and an antagonising energy urges enough forlorn bitterness for Kim to play around with to warrant granting the track high status on the album. Her reliable composure ensures that her sultry soul-pop warmth brings enough heat during the plaintive verses, and the power-ballad chorus ought to have a Nick Van Eede writing credit.

A flexing guitar line announces The Light of The Moon, a shiny told-you-so appeal for ‘the warmth of the sun’ and similarly predictable alternatives to the words in the title. If she paid her electricity bill she could have those things at the twist of a knob, and on a regular basis.

Crystal clear arrangements and hand claps sneak the next one in. Heart Over Mind is a jangly thank-God-the-crap-stuff-is-behind-us sigh of ruefully grateful relief. A correct choice for a single, thank God.

The sentiment is not my glass of vodka and strawberry juice, but purchasing possibilities proves wise when A Miracle’s Coming pads out the back end of your album with a skyscraper chorus sung by Kim’s pavement scraping vocals.

Theme of the whole album, Try Again defrosts trembling 80s ballad sounds, coaching emotional feelings with the same sweet purity she utilized on those other gentle gems in her back catalogue, Can You Hear It and Someday. When Kim gets distressed about the world’s problems I usually give her the wide berth, but whatever newspaper headline she read that day must have really struck a chord.

Weepy closer Too Late lights the same match twice – flickering arrangements and a vocal that waltzes secure that satisfying final track feeling.

The rampaging pop of I’ve Found A Reason was a shameless exclusion and relegated to B-side status. Psyching herself up with a momentum that would make even Roxette drool in awe, Kim’s gutsy bender is one of her very finest.

The stunning Birthday Song gasps ghostly second-hand air from the witchy pop chanteuse Mylene Farmer herself, and it is as beguiling as it is utterly uncompromised. It really lifts the lid on just what Kim can achieve when forgetting about those top 20s in Scandinavia. Another scab peeled off that Kim should have left exactly where it was, this would have been the album’s epic highlight. Thanks to David M for kindly sending me these bonus tracks.

Forget about Kids In America, the nightshade perfume of her stunning Catch As Catch Can album and even the aerosol-sprayed mist from the chorus of You Came’s timeless ejaculation, Kim is singing more as a woman here and despite flexing her credit card along the way, the songs themselves are full-bodied and rich, with more than enough arresting moments such as Birthday Song, I Believe In You and I’ve Found A Reason all highlighting an intense progression. Relinquishing her habit of chasing after past glories, Love Is simply moves on.

Verdict:

9/10

Kim Wilde - Love Moves (1990)

Out of time, Kim Wilde's 1990 LP Love Moves should have been the commercial catapult that seemed like a natural conclusion after the 2 million selling Close from 1988. Failing to expand her sound, instead offering a clutter of lavishly arrayed splatters of ballad, MOR and sheeny disco surfaces. All gripping onto the tail of fashionable arrangements, Kim deposits her unmistakable vocal range from pelting aggression to the smoother transitions that lean heavily towards her Rn'B influences. Not many tracks take shape quickly, but they all unite together to accomplish one of her most consistent packages I have heard so far (the idea for me is to review all her back catalogue in time for the release of her new album next month).

Above: with more wind than a vegetarian adding chick peas to their diet, Kim's photoshoots might have stank, but created some of the singer's most iconic imagery.

The foamy lather of her vocals on the swishy love-fest It's Here make it as immediate as anything she has done before, but the rash of adrenaline from her back catalogue has almost cleared up completely into something smoother and more polished. The majestic intro could well be the album's peak at the 0:07-0:13 mark. However, I'm going to compare this old banger to a tractor: yes, the laidback electronic disco ploughs through vaguely country-feeling grains of instrumentation, with the watery nutrients of Kim's voice bringing all the goodness to the surface. Recycling 2nd hand arrangements fertilizes something memorable, but record sales failed to grow and it failed to harvest Kim a top 40 hit in the UK. The simmery track switches lanes at about 1 minute and 30 seconds, and Kim's 'confusion' emphasis give what essentially is one of those faceless big pop moments, that were often massive during the decade (Amy Adams might have had better luck with this), are the shadows tinting the big arrival of whatever it is with something reassuringly less prissy than it might have been. The spritual ressucitation of 2:28 is the reprise of what makes this track something very special and a bit extra.

Above: the La Toya Jackson look has been the kiss of death for not only La Toya Jackson's career, but in 1990 Kim Wilde was sadly added to this list of artists struck by 'hit single anorexia'.

Sounding a bit stale all these years later, Love (Send Him Back To Me) employs then-contemporary drum strikes and mechanical sexiness, with the plotline no deeper than being 'set free' by cock. Sharp and neck-snappingly bland enough to pass for an Abdul album cut, this is a bit frumpish for my liking, but Kim's sulky incisions always sink in even if it's a shame she can't overcome the facelessness of it all.

Above: the classic KylieFacial pose was the music industry's worst kept secret, as even Kim made a joke of it years before the Neighbours actress admitted to her mystery non-surgical skin treament.

Danniipop moment World In Perfect Harmony's big surprise is that Cathy Dennis had no part in its creation, or that Dannii Minogue didn't record it in 1995, 1993 or 2007 on top of a Sash! instrumental. A rash of piano keys aggrevate Kim enough to pravoke her vocals to pour out like sunshine for the type of glossy finish only porn stars can relate to.

Flushing her heart like a toilet, highlight number two Storm In Our Hearts is a lush commitment of slushy love-lusting vocals and a flood of gushing piano keys. This is poor Kim's equivalent to Rachel from Friends staring out the window to the sound of U2. Her vocals ghost through visons of 'rain and thunder', translating the rhythms with an underlying pathos.

Below: Kim's position as the next Sugababe was already secured, with a mumsy sex vamp look that Heid would kill for, before the girls were even at school bullying their classmates (and teachers).

My divine favourite, Someday is like taking a cleansing wipe to my soul. Pretty, plaintive and vague-not-vacant, the icicle-dripping emotions, glamorous fragrances of pensive depression, and marble-eyed melancholia are all matched by the singer's discreet vocals vapourizing into the misty sounds. The gentle tide of backing vocals drift into nothing more than crystalised sighs. I highly recommend.

Clarifying chaos, Time is so good it must have scared the shit out of M People. It a bit ironic to call a song Time when the production on all the tracks make it oh so easy to pin down exactly the era they all came from, but this could have more thighs chaffing than The Nolans last UK tour. Jazzy grooves smoulder through the defensively decent Who's To Blame. 'Heard it on the news today / there's got to be a better way'. If she can't be bothered then neither can I.

Not a song too soon, Can't Get Enough cranks the voltage, cementing an established insatiable thirst for cliches even further as she threatens 'murder in the first defree'. Without the gravity-defying conviction of Never Trust A Stranger, a girl-group style narrative thrusts enough aggrevation to state a case for itself.

Dry-humping the same sound as Paula Abdul doesn't do Hollywood any favours, but turns into surprising good fun.

Still being hard on herself, I Can't Say Goodbye sadly is not a Liza Minnelli cover. It's a bit drippy for my taste, and I don't have the patience to get this serious. There's not a hair out of place on it though.

Verdict:

Exhiled from the pop charts and arriving after Close, Love Moves comes as something of a retreat but is not without undeniable charm. Commercially-driven, it tanked but the real capital is Kim herself, with her watery voice flooding into all the filler without hesitation. Initially lacking the infinite pinaccles such as You Came and Stranger, Kim is admittedly capable of dizzier heights than mostly everything here, but the album is a steady stream of well-matched songs all thriving on the good taste of its artiste and production flourishes. Her most unequivocal pop album.

8/10

Kim Wilde - Close

Despite something of a 90s glitch of camp kitsch (no bad thing I must point out), Kim Wilde has managed to resist the danger of becoming passed over as a novelty still-around 80s act. Sure, the nostalgia-feeding Here & Now tours have paid for her roots to get done a few times, but her striking legacy as an electro-pop icon have only been strengthened in Europe at least with the singer continuing to adapt herself by recording new versions of her old songs and taking up gardening. When albums and singles haven't been hits though, her 6th album Close stands out as her crowning commercial achievement, selling over 2 million copies worldwide, but what about artistically?

Flop single Hey Mr Heartache is a weak-willed attempt at personal affirmation. It's a bit dismal, but a brave choice for opening an otherwise polished album. It functions well in context, and might have benifitted from sliding down the tracklisting a good 7 or 8 places.

The everlasting pop ejaculation You Came was a full facial of wailing euphoria (just hear the moment Wilde unleashes those adlibs whilst the synthesised instrumental breaks loose), and became one of the singer's biggest hits, epitomizing her lush vocal style and softened the hard-boiled sensibility of earlier material, and is reduced to simmer via a chugging bassline that never loses flavour. The stridently fertile Shep Pettibone 7" slides in all the momentum you'd expect from double that length and I swear I'm not normally so easily pleased.

Four Letter Word sounds like a vasceline-lensed 80s soap opera theme tune, but nevermind, it was her 3rd consecutive UK top ten hit. With damp vocals dripping like a tap, she coos to the apex of sophistication, with her characteristically remote and faintly bitter expression, I can imagine her singing this with both wide, hurt eyes and the thinnest trace of a smirk not least at the obvious innuendo.

Kim's only major shortcoming on this album (and something that might be more relevant to her elegant follow-up LP Love Moves) is that she is something of a creature of her arrangements, and on Love In The Natural Way she delivers one more 80s quite-OK pop-soul number. Her bid here stiffed at a megre UK #32 and bizarrely this was the direction to launch her career into the 90s. Also, stealing Live To Tell's keyboard-trembling mist is no less pleasing.

Above: wacking out hits with Wacko on his tour helped Kim not just love in the natural way, but pledge to look it as well.

Spending yet more time feeling sensitive, Love's A No huffs and puffs itself up into a right old state. However, Kim's MOR journey is ornate enough to dazzle those willing to put up with it.

Slitting through the sulky serenades, slut failure anthem Never Trust A Stranger makes use of the singer's parallel penchant for harder edges, shrieking with the sore sense of seeking solance after getting ravaged by some cad she must have found at her local biker bar. Posessing gratifying moments of mortification and sardonic self-deprication ('I thought it was heaven' couldn't be any more sarcastic, it almost sounds nasty), I don't know what the big deal is myself: 'savaged my soul and took all the control' sounds like a pretty good deal to me. Kim's oil-gargling gurning is only matched by sheer bristling guitar energy. Emotions activated, it is a wounded song where there's no room left for weakness. 'Defeated' but not out of the game, and not on it or anything let's hope, Kim sinks her teeth into the words with an insatiable appetite, which is probably why I can't get enough of it even after all these years. Struggling put-out humiliation and sharing it with the world on a hit single can't be easy but emphasising muscle over sweetness pays off in spades.

Despite verse 1 initially suggesting a melody-eclipse, You Be The One gets going with a poignantly concealed-sounding but determined chorus. I just hope he's not a stranger.

Slightly more profitable with a languid disco insouciance, European Soul is a bit lost in the crowd. Her piano man even helps her out when she's got no wandering chorus to snore to us.

Recharging the same batteries used for the electrifying rampage of Stranger, Stone ripples with a ripped and ribbed bass. Kim sings as if tasting stars in the sky, I just love how stylish she sounds during the bridges. Declaring 'cos this is our time' sentiments attracts all my attention and eats away all my cares.

Sounding troubled and burdened by a suddel lull in solid material, Lucky Guy is a dripping ballad with arrangements that don't fully warrant much effort from the singer. Imparting trite spiritual longings to little fanfare, it is a faintly flaccid finale.

Verdict:
The album's collision of Wilde's trademark tough and pouty style with the softer material makes for an album that never loses its queasy tension. At her most instinctive and assured, Kim triumphs on the stadium-ready You Came and Stranger and even when the material dips, she delivers a credibility that such substances wouldn't deserve if sung by any other 80s any-others. Reigning in her shoulder-pad pop is brave, but politely executed sultriness is something she pulls off along with not just her bra, but also an unassuming wit and subtle sense of guessing exactly what we're all thinking when she sings that love is a four letter word, etc. Her man problems are simply more engaging when complimenting their semen volume or grimmacing reverberations about trusting strangers that's all, but altogether it's a slick and cohesively compelling collection.

7.5/10