Flares: Zac Brown Band - Uncaged

In a sense, it's possible to measure the progress of the Zac Brown Band by the magnitude of their guest stars. In 2010, they consolidated the breakthrough of 2008's Foundation by enlisting Jimmy Buffett and Alan Jackson for duets -- elders whose very presence suggested they were passing a torch (although, to be sure, Buffett has a far greater pull on Brown's sound than Jackson). Two years later, it is the Zac Brown Band who occupy the power position, drafting in peers, not idols, to play alongside. And it is a diverse batch: twee, twiddly Jason Mraz co-writes the sprightly opening cut, "Jump Right In," with Zac, Trombone Shorty colors "Overnight" with some New Orleans funk, and upcoming folk/blues troubadour Amos Lee sings on "Day That I Die," each guest representing a different field for the ZBB, each suggesting the range of this ever-evolving nominal country band. And at this point, the Zac Brown Band would fit the grander stages of such worldly, knowing vaguely hippie enclaves as Bonnaroo better than they would a rocking country outlet somewhere in the Deep South. But Southern they are, in sensibility and sound, reflecting not the dusty beer joints and cutthroat honky tonks of the middle of the 20th century but the sports bars and sandy beaches of the present, the kinds of places where the kin of the Allmans feel as Southern as the descendants of George Jones...and where a bearded soft rock crooner like Zac Brown is happy to make evident his debt to James Taylor. Brown's sweeter side isn't hidden here but it's not quite as prominent as it's been in the past, either. He has plenty of soft, crooning melodies but there's a bit of bluegrass and a bit of reggae, a little blues and a lot of rock. Above anything else, Uncaged is a Zac Brown Band album, one that emphasizes the range of this quintet and its elastic interplay. It is the sound of a band operating from a position of considerable strength: they're confident, assured, even playful, having fun bending the rules and blurring boundaries, eager to please but never pandering. It's the rare album that suggests how good the band would be in concert yet still sounds vibrant on record.

Based On Critics - 35/50

Based On Public - 50/50

Based On Hype - 20/50

Based On Pop Flares - 36/50

Overall:

Flares: Flo Rida - Wild Ones

There's no doubt that by Wild Ones' 2012 release, pop-rapper Flo Rida had become a "singles artist," one who soars high in the three- to four-minute format. Give him thin but clever ideas -- that acoustic guitar riffs might sound fun with hip-hop beats or that whistling also looks like oral sex -- and you get hot, infectious fluff, the hottest of which here is "Whistle," a DJ Frank E production that might have been handed to Kesha, Katy Perry, or even Maroon 5, although Flo Rida does it much justice, reviving a come-on that goes back to Lauren Bacall and putting a couple energy drinks' worth of power behind it. The title cut with Sia is close to Katy Perry's "Fireworks" but crafted to support a sports highlight reel instead of teenage dreams, and then there's the Etta James-sampling "Good Feeling" with producers Dr. Luke and Avicii replacing David Guetta from the previous album and offering that urban-pop glitter-flash that should make purists scream and the Black Eyed Peas jealous. Speaking of the previous album (2010's Only One Flo, Pt. 1), this is also a short, almost EP-length album that comes with nine tracks in its standard version and with no full-length flow, and while it was originally titled Only One Rida, Pt. 2 and designed as some kind of sequel, continuity doesn't matter in this pop-rap-urban-dance landscape, as this genre is as "in the moment" as it comes. Wild Ones would be dragged down by any tacked-on sense of purpose, and thinking of Flo Rida as equal parts thrill seeker and hitmaker is easy as the album races to its absolutely silly, LMFAO-featuring finish. It's gimmicky, lightweight, and best taken in small chunks, but get a glitter-friendly crowd together and it gets the party started, succeeding at its one and only goal.

Based On Critics - 30/50

Based On Public - 9/50

Based On Hype - 45/50

Based On Pop Flares - 26/50

Overall:

Flares: Chris Brown - Fortune

F.A.M.E. was Chris Brown's first album to debut at number one on the Billboard 200. Five of its singles went Top Five R&B/Hip-Hop, and it took the Grammy for Best R&B Album. The singer clearly feels more emboldened than ever, as he declares in Fortune's second song, the slow motion boom and wobble that is "Bassline": "I'm winnin', you heard about my image, but I could give a flyin' motherfuck who's offended." Save for a handful of quasi-sensitive ballads that come across as insincere, Fortune is an album of unapologetic swashbuckling. There are few dimensions. In "Bassline," Brown demands "Get butt naked to my bassline." The hook to "Sweet Love" begins with "Baby, let's get naked." That song is followed by "Strip," as in "Girl, I just wanna see you strip." Those three lines are among Fortune's cleanest. Even the atmospheric, impeccably-produced ballad "2012" -- involving some kind of Mayan apocalypse scenario where Brown and his lover are called upon to reverse the planet's fate -- gets graphic. Each line, from "Can you feel my submarine?" to "Girl, I like the way it opens up when you throw it back," has something shameless about it, while "I got that pillow for your knees right here" is the closest Brown gets to selflessness. All the way at the other end of the spectrum, "Girl, you better not change your mind" -- a prelude to the one-night stand in "Biggest Fan" -- is this album's "Don't you be on that bullshit," though it is beyond insolent. None of the dance tracks, including the graceless "Turn Up the Music" (featuring some strange likeness to Baltimora's "Tarzan Boy") and the shrill "Don't Wake Me Up," rivals Brown's past highlights. From a creative standpoint, this is more a leap than a step backward. Some of the productions, courtesy of the Runners, Adonis, and Kevin McCall, save it from being a disaster.


Based On Critics - 19/50
Based On Public - 40/50
Based On Hype - 44/50
Based On Pop Flares - 27/50
Overall:

Flares: Linkin Park - Living Things

Linkin Park got pretty moody on 2010's A Thousand Suns, settling into a sulky electronica groove that pretty much screamed "growing pains" to anybody who listened closely. On its 2012 sequel, Living Things ,Linkin Park attempts to graft guitars back onto their newly mature musical outlook, and the reintroduction of visceral force certainly helps give this album a pulse lacking on A Thousand Suns. It's hardly a step back to the old angst-ridden rap-rockers of the turn of the millennium, however. Admirably, Linkin Park revels in a near-middle-aged angst, letting their songs address adult concerns and giving their productions contours and texture; the additional noise isn't an expression of fury, it's used to enhance the drama. Generally, the songs feel sharper on Living Things -- there is definition to their structure, some of the choruses catch hold without too much effort -- but this album remains one of sustained mood, not individual moments. And in that regard, Living Things handily trumps A Thousand Suns: it doesn't stay still, it peaks and ebbs, flowing steadily between brooding and explosions of repressed rage, a fitting soundtrack for aging rap-rockers who are comfortable in their skin but restless at heart.

Based On Critics - 29/50

Based On Public - 50/50

Based On Hype - 50/50

Based On Pop Flares - 32/50

Overall:

Flares: Maroon 5 - Overexposed

Maroon 5 settled into a cleanly contoured blue-eyed soul groove on 2010's Hands All Over and were rewarded with a clear commercial stumble -- a situation somewhat forgotten in light of Adam Levine's 2011 elevation to superstardom via his judgeship on The Voice. Levine didn't abandon his band once he became a TV star. Just as the first season finished, Maroon 5 recorded a duet with Christina Aguilera, "Moves Like Jagger," a single far more modern than anything on Hands All Over and, not surprisingly, a much bigger hit than anything from that 2010 LP. All this set the stage for 2012's Overexposed, its title a smirking allusion to Levine's ubiquity, its sound a reflection of how dearly the group wishes to retain the large audience they won once again with "Moves Like Jagger." Electronic rhythms easily overshadow acoustic rhythms, with even the natural swing playing as somewhat sequenced; each song gets a brittle, multipurpose surface, as easily adaptable for adult contemporary radio as it is for the club. Hooks stab with a steely confidence but they just break the skin; they prick instead of pierce. It's the productions that count, not the songs. What matters is the their cool, sleek sound, the glassiness of the ballads, the cold glint of the dance-pop that dominates this record. Maroon 5's soft swing as a band is pushed to the background -- a bonus closing cover of Prince's "Kiss" makes that shift apparent, as the band reworks it into a rockabilly shuffle worthy of Elvis' stage show -- and it's missed, but not greatly. Even if Levine's voice sounds a trifle thin in these cool, crisp settings, the band -- with the assistance of such guaranteed hitmakers as Max Martin, Shellback, and Ryan Tedder; Levine's usual co-writer and lead guitarist James Valentine only has four credits here -- is adept at navigating modern pop waters, creating a record that feels briskly contemporary. They've bent with the times instead of attempting to have the fashion follow them, which may be a wise move after the general disregard paid to Hands All Over -- Overexposed may not hold together as well as that album, but it's sure to keep the audience won over by The Voice.

Based On Critics - 27/50

Based On Public - 50/50

Based On Hype - 50/50

Based on Pop Flares - 31/50

Overall:

Flares: Cheryl - A Million Lights

Bouncing back from a thwarted attempt to crossover to the U.S. via the American edition of The X-Factor -- she may have been a two-time winning judge in the U.K., but never made it to the air in the U.S. -- Cheryl Cole decides to shoehorn every pop trend of 2012 into her third album, A Million Lights. Unconcerned with introspection -- prior to the summer release of A Million Lights, she told all journalists to not ask her about the album's lyrics as she didn't write a word -- Cheryl (as she's billed on the art work; she's so famous in the U.K. she can abandon her last name) is very concerned indeed about maintaining her celebrity, so she tries on every fashionable sound, dabbling in dubstep, drafting will.i.am to give her some Black Eyed Peas magic, riding Rihanna's steely, defiant rhythms, bringing Calvin Harris aboard to construct lead single "Call My Name," adopting a bit of a Natasha Bedingfield hangover on the opener "Under the Sun," copping Lana Del Rey's tragic romantic balladry on the title track, then hiring the former Lizzy Grant herself to write "Ghetto Baby." Cheryl doesn't stamp these sounds with her own personality; she merely tries the personas on for size, not so much to see if they fit, but rather to see which ones will allow her entry into the charts. As not one cut crackles with personality -- they all rely on anonymous studio craft; any competent singer could sing lead and perhaps score a hit -- success is entirely dependent on which way the wave breaks, whether her timing clicks or not. Even if A Million Lights winds up not generating a big single, there is no denying that it captures much of the style and sound of 2012; it's a pop scrapbook, perhaps one that will be more interesting in the future than it is in the present.

Based On Critics - 30/50

Based On Public - 35/50

Based On Hype - 41/50

Based On Pop Flares - 32/50

Overall:

Flares: Justin Bieber - Believe

If you subtract the remixes, acoustic versions, live takes, and holiday material that filled Justin Bieber's releases from 2009-2011, Believe falls only a few tracks shy of doubling the singer's quantity of original songs. That fact alone will satisfy a large portion of his fans. More notably, Believe finds Bieber co-writing all but one song and handling his "not a boy, not quite a man" status with poise, despite some considerable contrast between his age and what he has been through. He's at a point in his life where he would fully deserve a pass for taking himself too seriously, but there's "Boyfriend" -- a G-rated "Wait (The Whisper Song)" with a My World-like chorus -- in which he compares himself to Buzz Lightyear. He has endured puberty, including a voice change, all the while undergoing intense public scrutiny that has included fallout from a paternity accusation. He addresses the paternity issue head-on in "Maria," a real-life, modern-day rewrite of Michael Jackson's "Billie Jean": "That ain't my baby/That ain't my girl." (The song is not on the shorter 13-track edition, but it's the most significant song in Bieber's catalog thus far.) Given the space allowed by an hour-long release, Bieber aims for just about every pop market. Believe incorporates appearances from Drake, Nicki Minaj, and Big Sean, while Ludacris is back for the first time. A song featuring slabs of dubstep bass is followed by an acoustic ballad. The throwback "Die in Your Arms" heavily references young MJ, harpsichord and all, and is driven by a well-known breakbeat. The title song involves a gospel choir, while the sound of an acoustic guitar is almost as common as a dance beat. Lyrically, Bieber seems to be in no rush to enter Chris Brown territory. He stays PG, flattering and flirting or stating devotion throughout the majority of the songs; "Loving you is so damn easy" might be the line most likely to raise an eyebrow, while several others, like "Everyone's itching for beauty, but you're scratchin' the surface," have a goofy/awkward teenage charm to them. Believe has enough strong material to keep most of the followers satisfied for another year, while elders should feel relieved that nothing is as sickly sweet as "Baby."

Based On Critics - 34/50

Based On Public - 50/50

Based On Hype - 46/50

Based On Pop Flares - 40/50

Overall:

I knew it would get good overall rating but not this good. So expect Bieber to be really big this era. bigger than before especially with radio success.

Flares: Usher - Looking 4 Myself

Usher was pushing his "revolutionary pop" concept as early as 2010, when he told StyleList, "I love that people are talking about the new hair, it represents who I am now and the creative movement of revolutionary pop." Prior to the release of his seventh studio album, he was doing it more than ever, quite likely encouraged by a Top Five Hot 100 collaboration with mainstream dance kingpin David Guetta("Without You"). With rare exception, revolutionary pop as presented on Looking 4 Myself sounds just like contemporary pop-oriented R&B, or European dance-pop, or some combination of the two. Compared to Usher's previous album, this is weighted more heavily toward dance-pop, much of which is functional and well made but unremarkable. The set is front-loaded with two such numbers. "Can't Stop Won't Stop," a typically savvy production from will.i.am and partner Keith Harris, incorporates flashes of commercial dubstep and a synthesized version of that escalating wordless melody from Billy Joel's "Uptown Girl." The Max Martin/Shellback-produced "Scream," a Top 20 hit by the time the album was released, is a pummeling dancefloor track with a mindless seduction theme. Next is the stellar Diplo collaboration "Climax," a bittersweet, 100% modern ballad that creates tension with space. It's more moving than what precedes and follows, but there are other highlights and a couple pleasantly surprising twists. "Lemme See," featuring Rick Ross, is a slithering, low-slung jam -- one of Usher's best. The easygoing yet emotive title track, a cross between new wave and soft rock with an appearance from Luke Steele (the Sleepy Jackson, Empire of the Sun), could pass for a cover of a missing track from the back half of the first N.E.R.D. album. Ironically, that's the singer's boldest move. While Usher's talent as a vocalist adds some depth to the producer-driven field of dance music, he's more of a creative force when he's working with slower, soul-rooted material. There's no shame in riding the wave, especially when you can do it better than anyone else. Calling it revolutionary is disingenuous.

Based On Critics - 37/50

Based On Public - 40/50

Based On Hype - 45/50

Based On Public - 34
Overall:

Flares: John Mayer - Born And Raised

Nothing halts the momentum of a career like a few poorly chosen words to the press. Take John Mayer, who in 2009 still seemed like the quintessential modern lothario, singing sweet songs of love and seducing starlets all across Hollywood. Then at the dawn of 2010, just months after the release of his fourth album, Battle Studies, he gave an interview with Playboy where he managed to insult former and current lovers while callously dropping racial slurs, a snafu plenty difficult to survive, but its gravity was compounded when his former lover Taylor Swift wrote a nasty kiss-off "Dear John" at the end of the year, a move that effectively banished him to the outskirts of L.A. -- which, if the sound of his 2012 comeback is any indication, resides somewhere around the vicinity of Laurel Canyon. Yes, the public humiliation and a subsequent health scare have pushed Mayer back in time, all the way back to the turn of the '70s when singer/songwriters across Southern California strummed their guitars and sang about their souls, back when his idol Eric Clapton was obsessed with the rootsy tumble of Delaney & Bonnie. Mayer never rock & rolls the way EC did when he was in love with D&B, but he certainly is emphasizing his affection for American roots, particularly of the folk and country kind. Those two sounds are the best vehicles for the kind of solipsism Mayer engages in on Born and Raised, where he does his best to sound sorrowful and contrite yet manages to stumble upon his own deep-seated desire to remain a lover-man. He doesn't murmur romantic words; he plaintively says he's sorry over austere acoustic backdrops, taking pains to ensure that Born and Raised feels weathered, rustic, and lived-in. This authenticity is supposed to strengthen his public contrition but it's hard to shake the feeling this is all an act, particularly when he interrupts his burnished apologies to sing "Something Like Olivia," a come-on addressed directly toHouse star Olivia Wilde. In another setting, this celeb crush would be amusing and possibly charming, but here, it (along with the lingering self-pity) undercuts whatever sincerity Mayer managed to muster elsewhere on Born and Raised.

Based On Public - 50/50

Based On Critics - 37/50

Based On Hype - 28/50

Based on Pop Flares - 35/50

Overall:

Flares: Adam Lambert - Trespassing

Three years removed from American Idol, Adam Lambert is finally allowed to shake off the pageantry of the televised talent competition and dive into glitter on his second major-label album, Trespassing. There's a distinct lack of ballads on Trespassing -- they're clustered toward the end of the record, sometimes given a spangled once-over by producer Dr. Luke so they don't feel staid, sometimes hinting at the chilly, austere vistas of Ryan Tedder but sounding grander, warmer in the hands of Lambert. Here, the distance from the stuffiness of Idol is apparent but the heart of Trespassing lies in the first two-thirds of the album, when Lambert is strutting like a glam-disco diva, sparring with Dr. Luke and Pharrell Williams, belting out his hooks with an easy confidence. And he's got some great hooks here, too: big, bright, insistent hooks powering songs that revel in their sleaziness. Lambert matches their appeal, singing with an untrammeled joy suggesting that he's relishing an opportunity to make modern dance music. Williams is his greatest foil -- "Trespassing" and the Michael Jackson-via-Justin Timberlake"Kickin' In" grab immediately -- but that's not to slight the rest of the record, particularly the pulsating Nile Rodgers-fueled funk "Shady" and mirror-plated pop of "Cuckoo." Even if these songs never grace the charts, they sound like inevitable hits and prove that Lambert is a genuine pop star who has now left American Idol far behind.

Based On Critics - 40/50

Based On Public - 30/50

Based On Hype - 32/50

Based On Pop Flares - 33/50

Overall:

Flares: Carrie Underwood - Blown Away

Prior to the release of her fourth album, Blown Away, in the spring of 2012, Carrie Underwood claimed that she was getting back to having "real things to write about and real things to sing about" -- a sentiment that's all well and good but has precisely nothing to do with the brassy blowout of the finished product. Dispensing with any pretense that Underwood remains a down-home country girl -- the kind who takes carnival rides and sticks a daisy in her hair -- Blown Away is an unabashed glossy pop album, positioning Carrie as the heir to Shania Twain and Faith Hill's country diva act, pushing the comparisons so far that she looks like a runway refugee on the album cover and she concludes the hourlong marathon with a song written by Twain's former husband, Mutt Lange. Naturally, this showstopping act suits a former American Idol winner but, better still, this exercise in turn-of-the-millennium nostalgia is executed with skill and savvy, offering the kind of larger-than-life power ballads and cheerful, clomping arena country that have fallen out of favor in the early days of the 2010s. Not that Underwood and team -- led by producer Mark Bright and also featuring songwriters Ashley Gorley, Chris DeStefano, Josh Kear, Hillary Lindsey, and Ryan Tedder -- are ignorant of the country and pop trends of 2012. They find room for light, sunny pop ("Do You Think About Me," "Nobody Ever Told You"), a bit of Caribbean breeze on "One Way Ticket," and a stomping chant-along hook on "Leave Love Alone," and they splice Miranda Lambert and Gretchen Wilson together on the ludicrously fun "Cupid's Got a Shotgun," which is enough to make Blown Away not seem like a throwback even if its heart belongs to the days of diamond-certified albums. Sure, that diva worship makes it seem ever so slightly old-fashioned, yet this is Carrie's wheelhouse -- she's meant to sing these oversized ballads and hooks, she's meant to look as unattainable as she does on the cover. She's meant to be be a superstar and she's never seemed as comfortable with her calling as she does on Blown Away.

Based On Critics - 35/50

Based On Public - 50/50

Based On Hype - 31/50

Based On Pop Flares - 35/50

Overall:

Flares: Jack White - Blunderbuss

Jack White leaves such an indelible stamp on any project he touches that a solo album from him almost seems unnecessary: nobody has ever told him what to do. He's a rock & roll auteur, bending other artists to fit his will, leading bands even when he's purportedly no more than a drummer, always enjoying dictating the fashion by placing restrictions on himself. And so it is on Blunderbuss, his first official solo album, arriving five years after the White Stripes' last but seeming much sooner given White's constant flurry of activity with the Raconteurs, Dead Weather, Third Man Records, and countless productions. Here, he's once again placed restrictions on himself but they're not quite as clearly defined as they've been in the past, as when he's gotten great dividends by working with a limited palette. All the restrictions are entirely of a comforting variety: he's abandoned the primitivism of the White Stripes, something that came easily with Meg White bashing away on the drums, and has chosen a quieter, polished route, rotating in different musicians for different tracks. Jack still pulls out some standards from his bag of tricks -- clenched blues explosions, squealing guitars, and a cool breeze of electric piano -- but musicians matter and this bunch of pro players tightens and softens his attack (sometimes to its detriment, as on a clumsy cabaret version of Little Willie John's "I'm Shakin'"). When Blunderbuss gets furious, it's hard not to miss the chaos Meg brought to the Stripes -- with her at the drums, "Sixteen Saltines" would fly off the rails -- but it's a mistake to think of this album as a professionally produced White Stripes record as it relies as heavily on ideas White explored on his handful of old-timey acoustic cuts and the '70s guitar rock of the Raconteurs. If it resembles any Stripes album it's Get Behind Me Satan, the dark, odd 2005 set written in the wake of a breakup and filled with songs of paranoia and recrimination. This too is a divorce album with every song concerning love gone wrong, yet it's easy to ignore all the pain roiling underneath because Blunderbuss plays so sweetly, its melodies easing into memory and its surface warm and pleasant. Contradictions are nothing new for Jack White but he's never been as emotionally direct as he is here, nor has he been as musically evasive, and that dichotomy makes Blunderbuss a record that only seems richer with increased exposure.

Based On Critics - 42

Based On Public - 42

Based On Hype - 30

Based On Pop Flares - 34

Overall:

Flares: Nicki Minaj - Pink Friday: Roman Reloaded

Nicki Minaj's sophomore effort was pre-release promoted as the "mixtape Nicki" gone legit, as her unpredictable, provocative, and artistically free alter ego "Roman Zolanski" bubbled to the top. That's sensible as this bold, layered artist is just as comfortable alongside Madonna during the Super Bowl XLVI halftime show as she is hanging with the Cash Money crew during the after party, so a two-album roll out might be necessary, but this is the wrong part two. The first Pink Friday presented a street queen gone elegant (which is what you do when you go from mixtapes sold at quickie marts to Dr. Luke productions sold by publicly traded companies) and here, the Roman gone well-funded thing works for more than an EP's worth of cuts. "Starships" offers a Katy Perry-styled singer that can convincingly drop both a MF-bomb and a weed reference, while the vicious "Stupid Hoe" gives birth to the genre of millionaire booty music and suddenly, sipping sizzurp in your own private jet seems entirely possible. Then there's vaudeville-hop opener "Roman Holiday" where the rapper/singer adds performance artist to the list by doing a British constable impression over knotty electro, while "Come On a Cone" gives Nicki her own "A Milli" and states the album's purpose ("Now I'm not masturbatin'/But I'm feelin' myself") as only she can. A handful of equally inspired numbers that come from this angle of gangsta-girl-in- a-post-wonky-pop-world add to the excitement, and with RedOne and a batch of other innovative producers providing a kaleidoscope of beats, the first half of the album is an amusement park for production lovers. Still, as the Lil Kim side of Nicki heads into the wonderfully dangerous territory of Gangsta Boo, Khia, Peaches, and beyond, her Madonna side has drifted into the land of Kara DioGuardi and other craftspeople for hire, as you could offer most of the latter part of this album to Ashlee Simpson, Kelly Clarkson, late-era Santana, or etc. The polished ballad "Marilyn Monroe" is a prime example and it would be an admirable second-tier track most anywhere else, but here, Nicki's simple musing about Marilyn and fame is one complicated, misunderstood blonde bombshell addressing another, but on a surface level when there's substantial stuff to explore. Cut the iffy pop off these 19 tracks and you're left with Roman's true four-star empire, but as it is, Roman Reloaded is a frustrating mix of significant and skippable.

Based on Critics - 30/50

Based on Public - 50/50

Based on Hype - 41/50

Based on Pop Flares - 35/50

Overall:

Flares: Madonna - MDNA

Most pop stars reach a point where they accept the slow march of time, but not Madonna. Time is Madonna's enemy -- an enemy to be battled or, better still, one to be ignored. She soldiers on, turning tougher, harder, colder with each passing album, winding up with a record as flinty as MDNA, the 2012 record that is her first release since departing Warner for Interscope. That's hardly the only notable shift in Madonna's life since the 2008 release of Hard Candy. Since then, she has divorced film director Guy Ritchie and has seen her '80s persona co-opted and perverted by Lady Gaga, events so cataclysmic she can't help but address them on MDNA. Madonna hits the divorce dead-on, muttering about "pre-nups" when she's not fiercely boasting of shooting her lover in the head, and she's not exactly shy about reasserting her dominion over dance and pop, going so far as to draft Nicki Minaj and M.I.A. as maid servants paying their respect to the queen. Whatever part of MDNA that isn't devoted to divorce is dedicated to proving that Madonna remains the preeminent pop star, working harder than anybody to stay just on the edge of the vanguard. All this exertion leads to an excessively lean album: there's not an ounce of fat on MDNA, it's all overly defined muscle, every element working with designated purpose. Such steely precision means there's no warmth on MDNA, not even when Madonna directly confesses emotions she's previously avoided, but the cool calculations here are preferable to the electronic mess of Hard Candy, not least because there's a focus that flows all the way down to the pop hooks, which are as strong and hard as those on Confessions on a Dance Floor even if they're not quite so prominent as they were on that 2005 retro-masterwork. MDNA does echo the Euro-disco vibe of Confessions -- "Love Spent" consciously reworks the ABBA-sampling "Hung Up" -- yet as a whole it feels chillier, possibly due to that defensive undercurrent that pervades the album. Even if she's only measuring it in terms of pretenders to her throne, Madonna is aware of time passing yet she's compelled to fight it, to stay on top, to not slow down, to not waste a second of life, to keep working because the meaning of life is work, not pleasure. Naturally, all that labor can pay off, whether it's through the malevolent pulse of "Gang Bang" or the clever "Beautiful Stranger" rewrite "I'm a Sinner," but, ironically for all of Madonna's exhausting exertion elsewhere, these are the songs that benefit from her finely honed skills as a pop craftsman, illustrating that no matter how she combats it, she can't escape her age and may indeed be better off just embracing it.


Based On Critics - 33/50
Based on Public - 50/50
Based on Hype - 40/50
Based on Pop Flares - 35/50
Overall: