Did you hear the one about the time Kelly Clarkson took a personality test? She got an F.
The stars of end-of-noughties femme-pop have succeeded thanks, predominantly, to an almost cartoonish emphasis on contrived personality quirks (Katy Perry’s political incorrectness chic, Duffy’s Dusty Springfield pastiche, Lady Gaga’s lamé slag-glam). Clarkson sticks out like a banjaxed metatarsal as a pre-Internet 2.0 hangover the management company really ought to get bandaged up as soon as possible.
That giggling girl-kisser Katy Perry is the most relevant benchmark for how far off the 2009 popgeist the Texan American Idol victor is – not only do they occupy the same post-Liz Phair niche of I’m-a-guitar-chick-and-I’m-SO-over-you pop-rock, but Perry has contributed songs to All I Ever Wanted’s uninspiring stadium pop-fest. Where KP and her production team has mastered the craft of melding rock dynamics with neon-pink electro melody (her songs stick to the same four chords throughout, but somehow escape the snare trap of over-repetition), KC and crew take the hair metal approach: start loud, get louder, end loudest. What comes out of the hit machine is a hookless conglomerate for Clarkson to holler over. Thank Christ she was born with a pair of pipes a plumber couldn’t unscrew – just refer to music-box ballad I Want You.
The content of Kelly’s broad almost-husk is, however, disappointingly asinine. Even attempts to break the thematic mold (lead singles My Life Would Suck Without You and I Do Not Hook Up) err on the nafftastic side of tacky. Tacky, indeed is the operative word for this most trailer-trash of power-pop albums. Like a Power City ad, or a box of Eurosaver condoms, these songs are cheap and in-your-face, but have massive, fun-spoiling holes in it. Go kiss a girl and get back to us, Kelly.
