Britney Spears
Britney Jean

In the cold Advent of 2013, Britney Spears has also crept into the pop scene, not too happy to watch, curled up in her trusty Starbucks nook, the fierce competition of Lady Gaga, Katy Perry, and all the other teenie and less teenie chart contenders. Various emulators of Murdoch's gossip armada have already thought it apt to toss into the scandalous grind the remnants of a much-discussed biography of Mrs. Spears. After spending her early years playing the role of America’s sweetheart, the fake ingénue still immersed in books (Baby One More Time), the skimpy bikinis complete with a live python accompaniment (I'm a Slave 4 U), and trying to legally inherit Madonna’s throne (Me Against The Music, shortly after the lesbian kiss at the 2003 Video Music Awards), Britney married a failed rapper, some Kevin Federline, gave birth to two lovely little ones, filed the inevitable divorce papers and fell into a grave depressive-confusional state, further encouraged by two famous examples of pure sobriety, Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan. The princess of pop lost her cool, shaved her head, attacked ravenous paparazzi with umbrellas and other blunt objects, and delivered a pitiful performance as a beautiful statuette of Gimme More at the 2007 Awards, an act promptly parodied and desecrated by the South Park gang in a memorable episode. The comeback album, Blackout, considered by many to be the forerunner of the global electropop explosion, recorded promising numbers and nearly a year ahead of Circus and Womanizer. Despite losing custody of her children and her freedom to act (her father was appointed legal guardian), Britney did not give up and presented The Circus Starring: Britney Spears, a controversial tour heavily criticized for its excessive use of playback (it was said at the time that many fans in Australia had left the arena well before the concert’s conclusion). The seemingly regained balance ultimately forged the cacophonic, loud, clubby Femme Fatale of 2011, perfectly in line with various Born This Way, We Found Love, and Party Rock Anthem of the glittery year bathed in sparkling sequins.

Britney Spears remains an intriguing question mark: can she sing or not? Does she really sing or does she leave the various vocal manipulation (and perhaps ad hoc creation) tasks to her trusty producers? Is she a popstar or a mere decomposing surrogate? The former colleague of Timberlake and Aguilera, "mother" of the new Cyrus, Gomez, and Lovato (the last Disney battalion), seems unable to find the grit she once had, the energy of the early 2000s, the desire to shake the waters lapping the wild mainstream territory. The junior mistress of Toxic has given way (deliberately overlooking the unfortunate springs of 2005-2008) to a fatigued and bored celebrity, little interested in challenging the fierce and "bad" competition of the new recruits, probably exhausted from the World War against the tabloid press and determined to be a sweet full-time mom. The balance is paradoxically maintained by rather rich and substantial music productions, despite comfortably sitting in the most popular pop: the difficult Blackout is an unappreciated silvery bijou (Break The Ice, Heaven on Earth, Piece of Me), the less daring Circus is not bad, while Femme Fatale stands out in the dance realm. Something entirely different from the gooey, sticky bubblegum teen pop of the first three studio works.

Britney Jean, the eighth creation, marks a new season. Crises, rehab, and media disasters are behind, and now there is a nice two-year residency at Planet Hollywood in Las Vegas to take care of: the perfect environment and occasion to rise Phoenix-like from the ashes of misfortunes. Presented to the world as the most personal and intimate album in fifteen years of career, a sort of narration of the Calvary of a starlet on the brink, Jean - small and discreet - does not stray too far from the sound of Femme Fatale and, more generally, from the dance-club trend post-Blackout: robust electronic-house flours mix with the modest sweetness of ballads, a touch of traditional pop, and a thin veil of R&B so much promised and little delivered. No innovation, record revolution, or alternative-indie-hip hop digression: Britney stays safely on the track of her most loyal fans and delivers a pleasant chart-friendly piece, digestible without even a "coffee killer" for potential course changes.

Jean opens with Alien, a delightful soft-electronic track bearing the signature of William Orbit that preludes to the EDM delirium of Work Bitch, the first extract, a mini-decalogue for young ladies who want to make it ("You Wanna a Bugatti? You Wanna a Maserati? You Wanna a Lamborghini? You Gotta Work Bitch!"). The club element introduced by will.i.am (Black Eyed Peas) also defines It Should Be Easy, Body Ache, and Til It's Gone (essential is the reference to the hit Scream & Shout), but dims with the candid Don't Cry, the overly sugary sweetness of Perfume, the pure and vaguely rock pop of Passenger, the naivety of Chillin' With You (in duet with sister Jamie Lynn) and, finally, the vague synth-hip hop of Tik Tik Boom.

No novelty, no innovation, but a not at all evil and redundant pop disc with multiple cues for a new Advent at Spears pre-mental breakdown: this is the hand luggage of a star neither old nor young poised to tread, like Celine Dion and Cher, the starlit Las Vegas stage. May Britney Spears help and support Britney Spears.

Britney Spears, Britney Jean

Alien

Work Bitch

Perfume

It Should Be Easy

Tik Tik Boom

Body Ache

Til It's Gone 

Passenger

Chillin' With You

Don't Cry