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Red Bull Beat Battle

Britney Spears - Circus

2008-12-10 16:30 by Niel Bekker

Britney figures that “There's only two types of people in the world“: entertainers and observers. But really, there’s two kinds of entertainers: performers who switch off at the end of the day, and media martyrs like Her Highness, The Princess of Pop, who never, ever cease to escape our prying attentions.

Circus

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Label:

SonyBMG, 2008

Genre:

Pop

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So has Britney pondered the rewards of fame, has she spat out a big "who are you to judge?" at the ranks of paparazzi who follow her every move? Yes, but that was last year’s Blackout and this time it’s us who should be older and wiser.

We’ve seen the paranoid pop fantasies before: "Piece of Me" was rawer and bitchier than "Kill The Lights" will ever be. What it does have, is a sense of humour ("Is that money in your pocket / Or you happy to see me?"), and this helps us understand what makes Circus different from Blackout. Girlfriend took a chill pill.

Only after some rehab and time with the fam could we see her do her sex kitten bit without spewing Timba-junk beats all over the place. "Lace and Leather" is just as sexy as the now-forgotten "Slave 4 U", but sells the same fantasy with funky slap bass and minimal electronic touches. “Fantasy, courtesy of me… Watch me apply the pressure / All decked in lace and leather”, she purrs to the sexy disco beat: Shaft would be all up in a sweat.

Instead of letting this track be the ‘happy ending’ at the end of the show, she revives a forgotten persona in her pop-schizo arsenal, the brown-eyed girl from Louisiana. Somehow reconciling motherhood and her most virginal vocals to date, Brit sings a heartfelt lullaby for her precious “Baby Boo” from her own songbook. Endearing, sweet, welcome in its back-to-basics balladeering, it still somehow doesn’t fit. The Anne Geddes crowd and old-time fans may be pleased, but they’re denying the obvious: Britney’s not a Southern belle anymore, she’s a circus freak.

Which is why "Womanizer" is her best single in yonks, blowing everything out of the water as far back as "Toxic". It’s a spectacle, a bratty ego-trip on pop pills repeating on and on the same refrain, “Woma- woma- womanizer”, only because it’s so damn catchy. Barely clothed (or not at all), smothered in spotlight, it’s the only place that Brit truly be comfortable anymore.

Enjoy the show.