Sabrina Salerno - A Flower's Broken (1999)

Unleashing her biggest developments since puberty, Flower's Broken was Sabrina's 1999 flop comeback album. If you're expecting a poppers o'clock dance album, this album might sound like some of its air has been leaked out as Sabrina favours different dance flavours for her mouth-wattering brand of dance-pop. Songs like I Love You are scintilating, mysterious and jubilent, but the overall impression is confident and unmistakably creative.

Aiming for the dancefloor, I Love You is the lusty first single that launched the ill-faited project via a surge of high profile promotional slots such as the 90s late night cult British TV show Eurotrash (she also memorably performed her signiture hit Boys Boys Boys, live I might add, on another episode alongside the Smurfs) . Tears fall down my cheeks like suicide victims off a bridge everytime I hear Sabrina pledge her love on the spledindly life-enriching chorus. Like a lost bewitching Bananarama song - I cannot recommend it's brilliance enough. Delivered with a creeping sense of anxiety, the singer's vocals are untouchably dreamlike and divalicious. Enough to finish anyone off.

Sounding dreamy and suitably flowery, Shallala is a near acoustic pop stream of conciousness with strummy guitars. Sabrina's off-kilter songwriting is gorgeously evident - this is not the straight-forward dance-pop I was expecting. Repeated listens are rewared indefinately, with spoken word erotica that would make Mylene Farmer faint with shock and embarassment.

Cleaner guitar sounds, synths and a upright chorus, Jimmy is Madonna's Cherish meets Jeniffer Paige's Crush meets a decent enough S.O.A.P album track. Hit potential for at least a few Eastern European markets. Another disco delivery, Diamond In The Sand is foreboding and up for unexpected body contact. Going for a slightly rockier vein to stream her disco prescription into, vocals get loud.

Scaring the shit out of Alanis Morissette, You Oughta Know is the definitive version the world had to wait 4 years to hear as the Italian singer unequivocally yells "are you thinking of me when you fuck her?". Forget Gaga flaunting stupid fashion statements, Flower's Broken is a lilting melodic prize in amongst a fuzzy eclipse of jangly guitar distortions, rippling electro and hard/fast surfaces.

Downplaying her dance, Love Is All There Is is powered by hip hop grooves and jazzy new jack soul to jack off to if those anonymous male vocals are anything to go by (I wish). The midtempo funk sounds decent and Sabrina accentuates the slinky atmosphere by groaning insistently. Whilst not instantly memorable, the slinky unnasuming vibes creep into your head if given the chance.

We've all wanted one for ourselves at some point (at least when it comes to watching their gymnasts), and Sabrina's own Russian Lover doesn't disappoint my expectations for a loud, busy and confusing dance track. Nailed it. An intoxicating, homoerotic chorus (it's chanted by a bunch of gays Sabrina picked up at her local sauna in Moscow) leads to an interesting climax.

Which brings us to the album's own happy ending, Never Too Late. Sad, slouchy and slowburning, we have a ballad on our hands as Sabrina clearly has a lot to get off her chest (you knew that line was coming at some point). Not as difficult to like as it might sound on paper, Sabrina gives good slow ones too. Luxuriant melancholia - even trash goddesses have feelings too.

The orgasm-fueled dance-pop brilliance of I Love You steals the show, but A Flower's Broken effortlessly grows in stature with repeated listening and 12 years later my fondness for it has only increased. One of the brighter dance-pop albums to emerge from the late 90s, Sabrina is the whole package, here, on an album that refuses to sag.


Rating:
9.5/10

Sonia - Fool For Love

Impish songstress Sonia's seminal PWL hits were chubbier than her cheeks and are bursting with an excitement and freshness not often afforded to the many 'gone tomorrow' stars from that staple. Sozza's more recent public outings include acting like a loud-mouth chav on ITV reality contest Reborn In The USA wherein washed-up pop stars compete for votes singing on the road (I think, I never watched it, even when Gina G appeared). Either she gives really good head or simply had what PWL were looking for as You'll Never Stop Me From Loving You reached number 1 in the UK and Listen To Your Heart was good enough to have been a Kylie, Bananarama or Donna Summer lead single. Finally giving the singing thing another go in 2009, she released Fool For Love. Singing like a cross between a cross dresser and a tranny, Sonia goes deeper than her favourite chiropractor and bangs on about having her dignity in the face of singing on top of a track that would give even Natalie Powers second thoughts. Sparkly euro synths simmer into something sugary, with a bassline stodgier than her addiction to carbs. The Groovesisters Club Mix is stickier and will have more thighs chaffing than a fire drill at Gala Bingo. The JSJ In The House Mix is almost passable as track 20 on CD2 of a Clubland compilation, and toilet flushes her vocals with a slightly less ropey (but less aggrevatingly gratifying let’s be honest) concoction of cheap Hi-NRG thrills.

Double The Damage: Tag Team MILFs Volume 1

Bananarama's PWL commerical peak may have reached a panting climax in the late 80s with the breathless Love Truth & Honesty, but these MILF's continued to plod away at their ruthless game with admirable restricted releases such as their France-only 2001 album Exotica, which sounds like a brand of condoms from the late 90s. Their sex-hungry sound is basic, yet thick, ribbed and heavily lubricated with a dated sheen that could pass for their hey day sound: the pre-'chav' Starz is fey and tritely whimsical, but the emphatic thud of the beguiling and murky If is one of their best ever singles. Sarah and Karen stay ahead of the game and want seconds straight away: 'come on come on encore, I'm waiting for you' is something they regularly scream from their moving car through Essex with their windows rolled down - it's became something of a tourist attraction, with the girls known for favouring guys who are prepared to buy them kebabs.

Their enchanting 'vocals' are thinner than Jamie Lynne's condoms, yet still manage to sound completely immersed in the sheer adrenaline of being care-less pop stars; their shared mouthed sounds (no solo's whatsoever) slur together like two shots of vodka doing double the damage. They mark their terriotory well with verses mumbled into their cleavages, bringing back fond memories of when I started a hollering campaign of gays shouting 'your tits are hanging out'at Karen when they performed at 2005's Big Gay Out in London.

Finishing them off, the carefully thought over conclusion 'ain't no big deal, just do as you feel, no big deal' is the salty aftertaste bringing the track to a hectic end. These women do not care and long may they pant breathlessly with no discernable vocal range, just so long as there is a cheap ass disco beat propping them up - bras that fit come and go, but classic pop trash lives forever.