Here’s a rather dated review, unfortunately.
It was one, however, which the NME team commended me on…so I’m rather proud of it.
Take one Southern, wholesome Christian girl and craft her into a warped Britney-Spears-meets-Dita-Von-Teese creation. Not much craft needed, you might argue, to breadcrumb gently and sex her up like a 2003 dossier.
After Frankenstein, Frankenstein’s Bride and Steve Brookstein came KATY PERRY. After all, Katheryn did sound dismally dyslexic didn’t it?
Looking more Circus than Brit herself here dressed in a gorgeous Manish Arora number for the MTV Awards, Perry seemed like she could be the next Gwen Stefani. Sans baby. Sans famous/successful partner (sorry, but dating Mr Cupid’s Chokehold makes you a target for some hardcore Supertramp fans. And maybe just some tramps as well).
Anyhow, I digress, as back in August I couldn’t be fooled by her faux-lesbian charm, which is why I wrote this:
I Kissed A Girl (Virgin)
Perry screeches like Avril circa 2002, yet she can make you feel more uncomfortable than a bad summer heat rash. An upbeat tune which is club friendly but only because it will be played so loudly that her supposedly “risqué” lyrics could be anything. Blatantly playing on the Daily Mail controversy of it all, she presents contrived, unoriginal ideas over and over again. It’s squeamishly laboured with clichés about Chapstick lips, plus a badly-scanning ‘boyfriend’ line, desperately added in – probably on the advice of management. Poor girl even blames the drink…just in case we thought she was Tipping The Velvet. We didn’t anyway.*
There are so many reasons to love Santa Barbara, California, besides Katy Perry having possibly, maybe, perhaps, once upon a time, curiously, wondrously stared at a girl’s legs during games class, whilst growing up in the shadow of the real riot girls of the 80s and 90s. Unfortunately political lesbianism throughout the ages was supposed to liberate women and disassociate men, rather than turn them on. This isn’t so much as political as professional.
I do recommend, in lieu of Katy, Joan Jett – a bonafide lesbian but, besides that, she can actually sing. Right now ‘the real Katy’ as we are supposed to believe, sounds like ‘the obviously unreal and oversexed’ Britney cover of Jett’s I love Rock and Roll which was well…cringeworthy.