In case you didn’t know, Kylie Minogue is a legend.

Despite the pop singer’s unjustly limited visibility in the North American market, Kylie Minogue is a beloved musical icon in most other territories around the world. Her sheer popularity and nearly revered status is to such a degree that the only real way to describe it would be–at the risk of a barrage of anonymous heckling–to that of her contemporary, Madonna.

It is a wonder to think, then, that after over 23 years in the music industry, 11 studio albums, and over 68 million albums sold, following some of the most incredible international career highs and record-breaking accomplishments of a female musician in modern pop history, Kylie Minogue has only just now crafted one of her best records to date.

When it was announced that Kylie would begin working with legendary pop producer Stuart Price in the middle of 2009, the collaboration was almost universally celebrated amongst fans. Then again, it wasn’t altogether that surprising of a collaboration either.

Price is, of course, responsible for some truly killer modern disco records, including The Killers‘ Day & Age, Frankmusik‘s 3 Words, and the Scissor Sisters‘ upcoming Night Work, and of course, Madonna’s legendary Confessions On A Dance Floor. Realistically, it was only a matter of time before the two would unite.

As a result, Aphrodite is exactly the kind of record that one would expect when crossing Kylie Minogue with Stuart Price. That is–one of the most sleek, cohesive releases of her entire catalog. To put it simply: Yes, it does live up to the hype.

The album launches with its first single, “All The Lovers.” Currently a Top 10 single in the UK, the song is a solid representation of the bulk of Aphrodite, though far from the finest cut on the record. In fact, the soaring chorus and glittering electronica offer only a taste of what’s to come.

With much of the record, the producers on the job have taken Kylie’s disco diva connotation and added a more complex, edgier layer of dance production. Cuts like the Calvin Harris-produced, Jake Shears-penned “Too Much” are evidence of this next level sound, sounding something like a thousand glitter-filled balloons bursting all at once inside of an intergalactic vortex.

“Get Outta My Way,” the projected second single off of the album, is bound to be another success on the charts. It also happens to be a somewhat rare turn of defiance for Kylie, a singer best characterized by swooning love ditties and breathy enticements. This song, as Kylie announced to the crowd at Splash before performing the Aphrodite mega-mix, is about respect.

The singer’s confidence is only pushed further with the album’s Nerina Pallot-penned title track. Showcasing Kylie at her bossiest in some time, “Aphrodite” explodes with a militant, foot-stomping beat and a searing bolt of fiery energy: “I’m fierce and I’m feeling mighty / Don’t you mess with me, you don’t want to fight me!” she warns throughout the song’s storming chorus. Judging by the fact that both this song and “Get Out Of My Way” double as the album’s strongest selections, it’s safe to say Kylie wears her sass well.

In “Closer” and “Illusion,” two personal favorite cuts, Minogue and Price divine dark disco magic: The former, a slow-building haunter that shares connections to both her older work (“Confide in Me”) and a glimmer of Madonna’s Confessions; the latter a complex mesh of ’90′s house and Ace of Base-like synthesized bliss. Throw in a relentless throbbing bass and a few sex sessions worth of heavy breathing, and you’ve got nothing short of musical bliss.

Later on, both “Looking For An Angel” and “Everything is Beautiful” function as nothing short of definitions of the word “lush.” Warm, layered slices of piano-encrusted electronica stack one on top of the other as the singer’s lulling voice climbs over the melody : “If I lie with you long enough, I can see the things I’m dreaming of,” she coos during the song’s chorus, “Let’s go through the ritual, until everything is beautiful.”

Then there’s “Cupid Boy,” an unstoppable tour de force of jagged electro, moody guitar strums, and impossible girlish delight. The song features a surging, sonic-powered bridge of distorted vocals and an utter jaw-dropper of a chorus, colored by hard synth rhythms, an angelic chorus, and swelling, echoed swirls. “If only you knew, I shimmer for you,” Kylie coquettishly offers as the song begins, forever producing the same glee-filled moment of euphoria with each listen thereafter. Yes friends–this is what would be referred to as a “Kylie moment.”

But the opening moment of “Cupid Boy” is far from the only “Kylie moment” of the album–the euphoria felt during the middle eight of “All The Lovers,” the glitchy dance breakdown at the end of “Can’t Beat The Feeling,” the hands-in-the-air glee that is the chorus of “Put Your Hands Up (For Love)”–all of these fleeting moments of divinity only add more glow the hot pink, heart-shaped aura that surrounds all things Kylie.

At a time when a new musical endeavor made by a woman in pop over forty may end up looking like a desperate attempt to latch onto the latest trends and cheap production tricks of the girls on top at the moment, Kylie Minogue’s latest could not be perceived as more authentic to her artistry: Aphrodite is literally the essence of Kylie in audio form. The sparkling instrumentals, the euphoric, angelic coos–everything in this album is an authentic, unapologetic encapsulation the stuff of Kylie Minogue.

This isn’t just an incredible album, or even an album of the year (although it most certainly qualifies to win the title for both). As with Madonna’s Confessions or her own sister’s defining triumph, Neon Nights, Aphrodite is a complete and utter musical moment–a release for the ages, and ultimately, a classic in the making that will go on to become a glittering milestone in Kylie Minogue’s already illustrious career.

And now, the long awaited, much hyped premiere of Ace of Base Lady Gaga‘s new video, “Alejandro.”

While at lunch mulling over my feelings on the eight minute Steven Klein-directed mini epic this afternoon, I received an e-mail from my mother with her own review of the clip.

Here now is my mother’s e-mail, who will heretofore be referenced to as MotherMuuser (or MamaMuuse, for short).

Madonna is going to be pissed to be ripped off so blatantly. Or shall I say one-upped….the nun’s habit in latex, swallowing a rosary, strategically placed crucifix and the machine gun bra definitely are signs she’s thrown down the gauntlet! Still love the song even if the video is just the 2010 version of “Like a Prayer.”

I kindly thank you for your time.

(And in my own summation: Gorgeous visuals, Gaga loves them gays, Madonnarama ding dong.)

As Torrance Shipman once said in the 2000 classic, Bring It On, “Missy’s the poo…so take a big whiff.”

While that quote doesn’t really apply here (aside from suggesting that Gaga is indeed ‘the poo’), the point is this: As the driving force behind the writing and recording process of her music, the creative director of her album artwork, music videos, tour visuals, merchandising and just about every other minute facet of her career, Lady Gaga is a very new kind of pop star; one that sings live, writes and records, dances, styles photoshoots, and waxes poetic about the lifestyle of the artiste.

While many have managed to break the market on their own terms, I can’t think of a single mainstream female pop artist in recent times who has exercised nearly as much creative control in both the audio and visual department as Lady Gaga.

In fact, I can’t think of any.

November 23 will see the release of Lady Gaga’s The Fame Monster, an 8-track concept album originally intended to be a re-release of her debut, The Fame. Written as a kind of antithesis to the subject matter of The Fame, The Fame Monster centers around horror and fears–from love, to loneliness, to death.

After some squabbles with her label (and a few inspired writing sessions while out on her Fame Ball Tour), Lady Gaga decided that this newly formed collection of tracks was enough of a living creature in its own right to merit release into the wild all on its own, rather than being slapped onto her pre-existing album. Of course, you could opt to purchase the album as a 2-CD bundle, but as a whole, the record is capable of standing on its own feet–however many feet a monster may have.

Now then, let’s run down the tracklisting.

The Fame Monster begins with “Bad Romance,” the current single that continues to power its way up the radio play charts. Better known as the song of 2009, “Bad Romance” is an unstoppable barrage of catchy hooks, hymn-like chants, and soaring crescendos. It’s a raw, raucous affair, best served at max volume in cars and clubs, and arguably the greatest track that Gaga has ever recorded.  Starting off with such a praise-worthy number, it’s fairly easy to forget that “Bad Romance” is just the first song off of the album.

“Alejandro” comes next, an Ace of Base-like mid-tempo, tropical track. While my reaction to the track was initially lukewarm after hearing the song in demo form, the album’s revamp adds a nice punch to the mix, creating a solid introduction and some reworked vocals. Watch out, though–the repetitive melody is addicting, and you may find that the song’s play count racks up faster than you can say “Alejandro,” “Fernando,” or any other man-of-Latin-origin’s nombre.

“Don’t call me Gaga,” Lady G announces as “Monster” begins to play. At this point, there’s really no need to progress any further into the album, as Gaga’s about to nail it: “Monster” is the epitome of the album’s essence, mashing a killer bass line with cheeky, creature feature lyricism: “We french kissed on a subway train / He tore my clothes right off / He ate my heart, and then he ate my brain,” Gaga laments during the song’s massive, glitchy (perhaps even picopop inspired?) breakdown. It’s a major hit, and is pretty much destined to be an upcoming single sometime soon.

“Speechless,” the next song on the album, comes with plenty of baggage in the Gaga Claims Department over the past few months, with “My favorite song of all” and “The greatest song I ever recorded” being just a few of the quotes offered up by the pop star during interviews. As one might imagine, the song has built a substantial amount of hype.

Mercifully it delivers, and the pay off is rich: “Speechless” is the ’70′s power rock ballad that always been hinted at in her earlier work (“Brown Eyes”, “Again Again”), though never fully realized until now. Penned for her father, “Speechless” is the result of Lady Gaga’s appreciation for the arena-rock legends and glam gods of yore (David Bowie, Freddie Mercury) that avoids imitation and plays like the torch ballad Gaga always needed. It may not be the greatest ‘hit’ of the album, but it is the most aurally adventurous (and surely the most personal). “I’ll never talk again / Oh boy, you’ve left me speechless,” Gaga croons with a swagger hitting somewhere between classic Elton John and Liza Minnelli. Concertgoers, be prepared–this one’s made for the lighters-in-the-air moment.

Coming in thereafter is “Dance in the Dark,” the album’s chilliest moment. “Silicone, saline, poison, inject me / Baby, I’m a free bitch,” Gaga scowls at the song’s beginning, which happens to double as the greatest opening line of the year. A hands-in-the-air dance song about a woman being harassed by her boyfriend, Gaga’s “Dance” is a murderous slice of pop complete with industrial whirls, haunted synths and occasional screams of anguish in the distance.

Part of the songs appeal, aside from being as danceable as it is dark (thus, “Dance in the Dark”…get it, eh?), lies in its occasional nods to the classics–from the  pulsating injection of Depeche Mode‘s “Strangelove” into the opening chords to its homage to Madonna‘s “Vogue” throughout the song’s spoken word middle eight:  “Marilyn, Judy, Sylvia…tell ‘em how you feel, girls!”

However unlike Madge’s celebrity roll-call, Gaga limits her subjects according to theme, choosing only those who’ve suffered a tragic end by way of, or indirectly because of, the fame. By the end of it all, you’ll want to know only one thing: Who knew emotional abuse could inspire such happy feet?

The next track, “Telephone,” is a doozy–a duet with Beyonce? Even on print, you’re already asking for trouble. “Telephone” was originally penned and serviced to Britney Spears by Gaga, rejected, and then reclaimed by the writer herself.

Along with a beat recalling Timbaland‘s “The Way I Are” and a frantic, stuttering electro-bass line, “Telephone” is a mish-mosh of synths, phone sounds and above all, rampant telephone talk. While Beyonce’s vocal runs are a welcome addition to the track, the song functions best as an unapologetic celebration of the vocoder. Just dance, as someone around here might say.

“So Happy I Could Die” seems to pick up where The Fame‘s “Starstruck” left off, borrowing its squeaky synthesizers and urban flavoring to engage in some self-indulgence. “In the silence of the night, through all the tears and all the lies / I touch myself and its alright.” While some reviews have likened the track to Britney Spears‘ “Touch of My Hand,” the music and lyrics seem far too dark to place “Happy” in the same realm as Spears’ ode to self-exploration. As the verses fade, the unusual anti-chorus fills the void: “Happy in the club with a bottle of red wine / Stars in our eyes ’cause we’re having a good time / Yeah, yeah / So happy I could die.”

Minimal and moody, “Happy” provides food for the mind while moving back and forth between Gaga and an unidentified “she.” It could be herself she’s referencing, but I’m still uncertain. Sasha Gaga, perhaps?

“Teeth,” the album’s premature closer, takes a surprising turn in sound: A stomping, hoot-and-holler-worthy chant-along, the final track of The Fame Monster invites listeners to cut loose and…well, sink their teeth into the music. Part musical, part country, and a little bit tribal in spots, Gaga snarls and taunts above an incessant, stomping march: “Take a bite of my bad girl meat / Show me your teeth.”  It’s an odd choice to end the album, though a surefire crowd pleaser for live shows if the addictive backing beat is anything to judge by.

Out of the eight excellent tracks of the album, the greatest part about listening to The Fame Monster is not the catchy beats or silly lyrics (of which there are many), or even the lock of Gaga’s own hair included with the Super Deluxe Fan Edition (with which I still have no idea what to do with)–it’s the fact that the album is history in the making.

For better or worse, Gaga is on the path of legendary status:  With only one album under her belt, Lady Gaga has already broken a world record for most #1 singles from a debut album, written for Britney Spears, Keri Hilson and the Pussycat Dolls, collaborated with high-profile photographers and artists including David LaChapelle, Araki, and Markus Klinko (which is not to forget her sheer influence on the runway, as well as scoring the devotion from runway legends like Alexander McQueen and Marc Jacobs). Along the way, she’s performed across the world to millions from San Francisco to Jerusalem, including a recent concert in New York where a newfound fan named Madonna watched along with her daughter, Lourdes, in the audience.

While I may be prone to hyperbole, I do believe that The Fame Monster is without a doubt the pop album of the year, if not one of the finest pop records of the decade.

And to think, this was just going to be a re-release.

Pre-Order The Fame Monster from Lady Gaga’s Official Store | Buy tickets to The Monster Ball Tour | MySpace | Official Website

Photo courtesy of Lady-Gaga.net.

Dear Lady Gaga,

HAY GURL! Just heard your new track, “Alejandro.” Nice one! Yeah!

The thing is, you really have to stop the RedOne madness.

We all know that you’re super talented, but let’s not get too proud: Putting out the same song now for the fourth or fifth time in a row? “Just Dance” is to “Poker Face” is to “Money Honey” is to “Bad Romance,” and now of course, is to “Alejandro.”

The public is eventually going to catch on to the fact that you’ve been churning out the same song for over a year! Actually, I can’t be entirely sure of that (Lord knows, Cascada is still going strong in this market), but come on: The repeat-heavy chorus, the “muh-muh-muh” variants, the overused electro-sting noise…you’re making your own music sound dated before it’s even been released.

Oh, and for the record, this sounds just like Ace of Base‘s sublime pop track, “Don’t Turn Around.” I liked it better the first time it came out.

Anyway, I have to go get ready to go out now. Can’t wait to hear the non-RedOne prouced songs off of The Fame Monster, especially “Telephone”!

Please give Rainer Marie Rilke and David LaChapelle my love, and let me know when you’re laying down your new single off of The Fame Monster 2.0, “Just Dance on My Bad Poker Face, Honey.”

Your on-again, off-again fan,
xoxo
b