18th April 2014

Album: Kylie Minogue – Kiss Me Once

There are no words strong or grotesque enough to describe the jaded horror of this monstrous album

Released 14th March



Not exactly being a hardcore fan of Miss Minogue, I sat down ready to be fairly disappointed but not exactly surprised by her latest offering. The first song ‘Into The Blue’ left me in a cold sweat. This is not music. I’m sorry Kylie I know you’re a national treasure and all after you went on that program with the twisty chairs, but please for the sake of all that is just in the world do not pursue a further career in singing.

Willing to give everyone’s favourite 3 foot high songstress another try, I skipped ahead to “Les Sex” – which I can only assume is a raunchy ode to the one and only Les Dawson – but after being told repeatedly by Kylie to “work it, push it baby” I just wanted to sit down and have a cup of tea to recover. Not only is the horribly artificial screeching autotune of her wailing vocal cords grating on one’s nervous system, but the lyrics leave you depressed and angry at the state of modern popular culture today. If the only thing that sells records these days is Kylie squeezing her ample derriere into a red leather baby grow and instructing you very forcefully to “sexercise! Feel the burn!” then I despair for future generations.

Described as an “R&B reboot” for the 45 year old self-proclaimed goddess, the singer thanks her many fans who “always inspire” her. Funny that as upon closer inspection, none of the songs in fact were written, produced, or even edited, by Kylie herself. But after all, what more is a pop star than a pretty face to lord about in gold hot pants thrusting her aging genitalia in the faces of anyone who’ll watch.

Never one to judge, I sat through the rest of the album, intrigued by “Sexy Love”, the fourth wonder on the album. I forced myself; teeth gritted, to see it through to the end.  As a child of the noughties, I have sat through a fair few Liberty X cassette tapes, and I am no stranger to the honeyed tones of Tina, Paul; Rachel, Jo, Hannah, Bradley and Jon, but I think it has been a while since I have endured such dirge. As a young girl I was not adverse to a bit of Australian pop – everyone likes some Kylie at the year 6 disco – but this is something else. Truly, utterly, terribly abysmal. There are no words strong or grotesque enough to describe the jaded horror of this monstrous album. Kylie’s thin, perpetually high-pitched yelps screech out over the top of over-produced, over-edited filth. Without meaning to be rude, I would simply beg of you, Kylie if you’re reading this, please desist. I have given this album 0.5/10 for the simple reason, that Kylie undeniably has the best brows in show business.

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