Britney Spears’ album is was slashed and massacred by one critic. The most amusing parts follows:
On many tracks, Britney sounds so worked over, she doesn’t even seem like a person. Instead, she comes off like some machine that bleeps and bloops out an airy array of oohs, ahhs and groans. If a blowup sex doll could sing, this is what she’d sound like.”
Lyrically, Britney spends most of the CD in a state of erotic mania. “My body is calling for you, bad boy,” she coos in “Get Naked.”
In terms of studio trickery, Paris Hilton’s album was practically “Unplugged” compared to this.
If you think about it too much, it’s hard not to see her as that old Saturday Night Live “drunk girl” character, the sad lush pawing men at a party.
