Let’s “Breathe Slow” with Alesha for a few minutes.

It’s a shame about the video, isn’t it?

It’s all sweet and silly (and a dash of tamed “Hung Up” during the dance studio sequences) up until the two minute mark, in which Miss Dixon dons a truly ridiculous headband of chicken feathers and twirly things, opens up her jacket to a glittery corset, and brings it all steadily downhill from there.

I simply adore the dozens of onlookers watching Alesha sashay her way down the strip. My guess is that about 99.3% of them had absolutely no clue who she was. I can only hear it now:

“Who is it?”
“I don’t know. Do you know?”
“Me? No. Well, wait…Isn’t that a member of Destiny’s Child?”
“Her? No, I don’t think so.”
“It isn’t Beyoncé, then?”
“You know what? Maybe it is. Actually, I think it is. BEYONCÉ! BEYONCÉ! PUT A RING ON IT!”

Keep holding on for that “We’re in Las Vegas; Obligatory Elvis impersonator needed” moment at 3:20.

The director for Britney‘s latest video is the talented Joseph Kahn, responsible for “Toxic” and “Stronger,” as well as videos for Destiny’s Child, Moby, U2, and many more. Today, Kahn blogged about the experience of filming Spears’ latest endeavor:

Anyway…Womanizer.

I’ve been on this side of celebrity for so long that I’ve got to see some really messed up things. She can’t go to a fucking McDonald’s without a mean, shitty blog written about her.

And ten years of it, every move.

No doubt you have to be strong to survive this business. But at the end of the day, she’s still a girl. Dickheads.

I genuinely like her. She has a good southern laugh. I think she’s a good person in a fucked up world. I’ve worked with bad people. She’s not one of them. Not by a long shot.

So I really wanted Womanizer’s video to be good.

I literally could not find anytime to sleep this last week. I got six hours in four days. If I had slept more than that, the video would have suffered.

Turned it in for broadcast. Went to work on other projects. Went home, watched the premiere, checked for reactions.

They love Britney again.

I don’t know if it was because I was punch drunk tired, but I almost cried.

It’s such a genuine, caring response, and really captures the essence of my infatuation, and even more so, defense of Spears. She is a glimmer of innocence within a deeply polluted sea of greed and malice. Sure, her work is far from innocent (and let’s not cross over into the arena of “legitimacy” or “originality” in regard to her music here), but her intention is little more than entertainment. I’ll always be rooting for her.

With the current state of political turmoil and economic corruption, it’s crucial to have something…anything to turn to for temporary escape from the madness. For me, it’s found in Britney Spears.

With each leak, my opinion grows more solid: Michelle Williams‘ latest album might be the summer’s truly delightful surprise. It’s not innovative music, no…but it is a return to the broken beats and riffing excellence that made Destiny’s Child so widely appealing in the first place. Of the two newest songs, first up is “Private Party,” which implements some strictly nineties club pipe-synths, as well as a dirty electro rip that slaps the bass just right. A little Danity Kane-ish attitude involved as well, actually.

“Hungover” too provide the tripped, stuttered beats that seem to line the album’s contents. The sexy stomper, which isn’t at all dissimilar from a certain bandmate’s hit single, “Crazy In Love,” is another up-tempo dizzying mover. Almost the entire album has leaked at this point, and looking over its contents it full, Unexpected may just be a force to be reckoned with. Don’t make your way back to gospel so soon, darling…pop still craves you yet.

Well, this was a surprise! I came into listening to the first single from baby B‘s second album, “I Decided,” with lower expectations and a high preparedness for nausea inducing vocal works. But wait…what’s this?

Far from the searing style of her sister, Solange‘s song is a nice, refreshing nod to the Motown era. The verses are straight out of the pop classic, “Heatwave,” and the chorus is a lazy, loungey breeze of air. All in all, I found no booties a’ poppin’, dresses a’ freakumin’, or even alarms a’ ringin’. Just a bit of good ol’ croonin’.