Now That's What I Call Music Vol. 35

Now That's What I Call Music Vol. 35




There used to be this thing that pop songs had. It was melody.
Sometime in the last decade, however, record executives realized that as long as they had tantalizing images (usually bodies of facially attractive, thin, fit people) to dangle in front of the general public they would no longer have to worry about signing and promoting original talent.

The recipe: Find someone whose image is mass-marketable, making it easy for the general public to lap it up like the dogs they are. Check. Make sure he or she can sing without the voice obviously cracking. Check. Hire songwriters to throw some lyrics over plonkety-plonk beats with plenty of production and texture to compensate for lack of soul and melody. Check. Add dash of promotional dollars and footwork. Hit record!
Nearly all the songs on "Now That's What I Call Music 35!" prove the future those record executives envisioned to have become reality.
Travie McCoy's tuneless "Billionaire" is a perfect song for our culture - all about wanting the latest toys, gadgets, gizmos, bling and riches, not at all about finding an honest way to earn them. Jason De Rulo's "Ridin' Solo" and Mike Posner's "Cooler Than Me" are also equally lacking in modesty and melody - surely to be forgotten with the passing of a year or two.
"Rock That Body" by the Black-Eyed Peas sounds like a computer is crashing.
Lady Gaga is a talented song writer, capable singer and engaging (if calculated) performer, but with "Alejandro" as her example here it is easy to see why she has blown up to become the most overrated new-hit-of-the-moment this side of Britney Spears circa 1999 - hers is one of the tiny handful of tunes here which are not faceless and forgettable.
Justin Bieber and Usher are without charisma, compatibility or melodic hooks on the remix of "Somebody to Love," which pales in contrast to Bieber's earlier hit with "Baby," which, a la "Single Ladies" from Beyonce, could not fail due to its relentless repetition (paint-by-numbers hooks).

Shontelle's "Impossible" is one of the most illustrative songs here - it pushes all the buttons of the average audience member, feigning originality. If it looks serious and passionate, then it works, even if both those things are calculated and only on the surface, not underneath or in the pulse of the song. Who needs a pulse when a hit can be copied and pasted together?
La Roux's idiosyncratic "Bulletproof" was a slow-builder of a hit from over a year ago, first making headway in the clubs before crossing over. The fact that lead singer Eleanor Kate Jackson's vocal are about as proximal to being on-pitch as Seattle is to a rainless season seem to matter little. They are not only scathing and nails-on-chalkboard, but they sound as though she deliberately set out to create that sound.
reviewNow That's What I Call Music Vol. 35