March 28, 2011


I spent the last few days listening to the new Britney Spears album in order to write about it. I worried all the while if this was potentially harming or effecting William. He's used to techno, but he just learned to crawl this past week and is now spending hours a day in this funny position Matt calls "downward puppy"--butt high in the air, legs straight, palms on the floor. He really just wants to walk, three days in and he's totally "fuck crawling". So I wonder, are there any long lasting effects to high-Britney exposure amidst a major developmental milestone?

Writing about Britney was hard. What is there to be said? She's the most famous person on the planet, yet I have hardly given her a serious thought in the last 15 years. Last night I kept waking up with stuff I needed to write down about her but the only paper by the bed was Keith Haring Journals and so now scrawled illegibly by the light of the babies nightlight, the wrong way over Shepherd Fairey's tepid introduction are my notes on "post-millennial fame" and Michael Jackson and covert vs. overt examples of pop sensuality--none of which made it into my review. My review which was nigh impossible to write as it is for a publication where I am unsure of the readership and so how to address them, their tastes and imagination? The review is for The Daily, which is the newspaper for the iPad. I can imagine who uses iPads, sure, but the only person I have actually seen use one was a two-year-old and she was reading an interactive Old MacDonald. I wonder if she will read and understand my thoughts on Brit-Brit's break-up sex anthem?

Who did not feel sad and protective of Britney when she married a white dude with cornrows who, along with his groomsmen, donned velveteen track suits with "PIMP" emblazoned on the back for the ceremony? Is there anything more embarrassing then having a classic bad boyfriend that everyone but you can see is trouble, or that you see he's trouble but all you want is trouble because you have been contractually obligated to pretend to be a virgin on behalf of Disney or some other multi-national corp since you were 14. And how everyone thought she was the new Madonna, but then for like, 18 months she was like a next level Courtney Love freakout on a billion dollar budget. And now she is returned to us in her well-tempered form, humping arena stages in a headset, a clean flowy weave and PVC hotpants like we expect. Fans and star both ignoring the discord between the unhinged woman we have seen rent asunder, suicidal, gnashing at life, flashing vag, and the STAR as we've known her, the coiffed and polished Britney, life and voice once again totally modulated and gleaming, her white t(h)rash days behind her, hitting #1 on the Hot 100 with straight shots of coital coo just to show that even if it's Gaga's world now, she will not abide by or acknowledge ironies, ruptures or haute concepts, only the real rules of popular entertainment and giving people what they want.

Posted by jessica hopper at March 28, 2011 11:13 PM | TrackBack