Katy and Taylor have good work ethic therefore they will both have longevity. Beyonce too but she has black privilege from liberal media so it's easier for her.
Britney Spears, the artist formerly known as Britney Spears, has spent nearly half of a decade in relative obscurity; emerging once every few years with a fresh musical venture, but (perhaps wisely) distancing herself from the dizzying publicity she once openly courted. Disillusioned by diminishing returns and the thanklessness of the profession she has chosen, she unceremoniously retreats to some guarded enclave and takes rest in the shadow of her own dimming star. It is to Britney’s credit that nearly twenty years into her illustrious (and often unsung) reign she even attempts – however half-heartedly – tricky career maneuvers; the sovereign princess’ short-lived, trend-fueled, alliance with persona non grata, Iggy Azalea, did not fly, but it gets a generous A, either for effort or desperation. Considering her contributions to the field and the enduring quality of her earlier work, any further attempts to enhance Spears’ legacy seem unnecessary, and so it is incredibly rewarding experience for connoisseurs of the genre when a past-her-prime Britney debuts something that recalls former glory.
“Make Me…” is a slinky, percussive, R&B-tinged, ode to la petite mort. If any of this seems familiar, it’s because we’ve been on this journey with Spears before; when she purred croaky come-ons atop a shuffling beat and repetitious guitar licks (“Early Mornin’”), when she venerated at the altar of her own hand (“Touch of My Hand”), when she asked to be “filled up with your love” (“Ooh Ooh Baby”), when skillful digits (once again) provided much needed release for a now divorced, thirty-year-old, mother of two (“I Wanna Go”). That’s not to suggest “Make Me…” is a bit-for-bit rehash of these earlier exercises. Whatever lessons were learned from the preceding sexual exploits are thoughtfully repurposed here, and “Make Me…” is, in fact, its own, fully-formed and horny horned beast. The sleek production varnish that overwhelmed Femme Fatale is present, but tastefully subdued and updated to fall in line with recent releases from Ariana and friends. Also returning is an assuredness not fully displayed on any of Spears’ releases since 2003’s, In the Zone. Spears sounds both competent and confident as she carefully flits between extremes; tartly commanding her beau to bring her to orgasm like it’s his job, then opting for romantic flourish (“…you’re the spark that won’t go out, my heart’s on fire when you’re around…”) before unleashing a fury of spiritual howls meant to signify her “big O”.
Other recent efforts have seen Britney act primarily as a producer’s vessel – a YOLO cyborg for will.i.am (“Big Fat Bass”, “Scream and Shout”), a perfectly-paced warbler in Max Martin’s rollicking thumpers (“Hold It Against Me”, “I Wanna Go”), the girl with the “flirt” to match Dr. Luke’s “cute” (“Gasoline”) – and while part of Britney’s “gift” is her perfectly malleable presence, it’s thrilling to bear witness to something that could herald the rediscovery of both her literal and figurative voices. The breadth of her talent, when it’s being utilized, is quite staggering.
“Make Me…” is proof of the cyclical nature of pop music – that genre tropes will regenerate on an endless loop and discarded luminaries can and do return to the top of the heap.
9/10
or this
Quote:
Originally posted by supaspaz
It's all too easy these days to have no expectations for Britney Spears. It's been years since the woman who gave us some of pop culture's most iconic moments truly surprised us, and the brief hiccups when she seems poised to put some effort into her career again always flicker out as she retreats to Las Vegas to become a mother who's a pop star on the side. So even after umpteen listens, the squiggly chime of synths that announces the arrival of Spears' new single, "Make Me...," can take you aback. By the time the sultry guitar gives way to a pulsing clap and her woozy come-ons explode into an ethereal rain of oohs, you may be left wondering if this is really the same woman who, just a year ago, was playing cheerleader with Iggy Azalea.
Indeed, against all odds, Spears has given us a version of herself that we've never heard before in her nearly two-decade career—and it is divine. Sleek and mature, "Make Me..." feels like the yearning girl from In the Zone just discovering her orgasm finally grew up and found deliverance. Minus a pointless, mood-killing guest appearance by G-Eazy (are we in for collaborations with successively less famous white rappers on each lead single from now on?), this is perhaps the first Spears sex jam that someone might actually add to their bedroom playlist. If she’s going to continue well into motherhood with nothing more on her musical mind than clubbing and copulation—and, at this point, that certainly seems to be the case—then this is the way to do it: elegant electro-R&B, with the year’s most heavenly climax. A-
I was surprised to see the mixed reception for this one... and then I wasn't.
Further proof of a deep generational chasm that divides ATRL into two camps; the twentysomething pop sophisticates with 15 to 20 years of top-shelf pop consumption to their name, and an unruly kid crew with Scream Queens avatars and tributes to Nick Jonas in their signatures. It's not that the latter generation is a lost cause entirely, but they've clearly never heard a "Britney" — that is, they've never encountered a voice quite as distinctive as Britney's. "But I know Britney! Circus was the first album I bought!" First off, ask for a refund. And no, you don't know Britney, you know a very stilted and subdued version of the iconic performer.
The Britney of "Private Show" is Britney as Britney is intended to sound. She very skillfully vacillates between a range of tones; she nasally, then guttural, then grainy, then nasally again, then delicate. (And yes, that's how she's supposed to do it.) She's sultry. She's goofy. She's sounds slightly absurd. She's fully engaged. She's expressive in ways that "technically superior" vocalists just aren't. She is brilliant. You have no idea how brilliant she is.
This is the probably purest attempt Britney has made to harness some of that ineffable charm that made her early work so irresistible. I adore it.
