Everyone’s got something to say about Lana Del Rey.

In Late June, the cut-and-paste clip for the singer’s “Video Games”–then just a buzz track–dropped with a thud onto YouTube. Spliced between old movie sequences, paparazzi clips and fuzzy home videos, we watched as a husky-voiced, otherworldly chanteuse pouted and cooed a dreary, vintage-sounding ode to her beloved: “It’s you, it’s you/It’s all for you, everything I do,” she begs. The song’s haunting melody, coupled with Del Rey’s bombshell looks and curious mannerisms, drew adoration and anticipation from countless bloggers worldwide, including myself.

Only weeks after the clip premiered, the overnight Internet sensation came under fire, as dissenters were quick to point out what Google already knew for months: Lana Del Rey, born Lizzy Grant, was raised by her father, a real-estate entrepreneur, and her mother, an advertising account executive in Lake Placid. After a stalled launch two years prior, the singer had since been signed to Interscope in March of 2011, paired off with top UK writers and hip-hop producers, and thrust quietly into the world (again) as Lana Del Rey.

Critics scoffed at her stories in interviews of living in a trailer park (despite this fairly telling interview from back in 2008 in…a trailer park), as though an artist’s legitimacy is earned only by being born into hardship. Her image changed, too, including an unquestionably fuller set of lips (“They’re fake!”, they cried), as though the emotional value of a song is determined by a single Restylane injection.

In short, haters continued to hate: Internet campaigns–spearheaded by the ever-sarcastic Hipster Runoff–effectively began a Del Rey witch hunt, tearing apart her music lyric by lyric, her videos frame by frame, and over-analyzing every word she’s ever uttered in an interview to an obsessive degree.

It didn’t help that Del Rey’s star skyrocketed too quickly: When the singer took to the stage of Saturday Night Live in early January for a jittery performance of her double A-side debut, the world–largely unaware of her particular brand of deep-voiced, slow-spoken artistry to begin with–pounced: ABC news anchors, musicians and all began eagerly participating in the most bizarrely overwrought public skewering, labeling it “the worst performance in SNL history.” (It wasn’t.)

To this day, the persecution continues with sexist headlines (“Lana Del Rey shows off some upskirt on some magazine cover!”) and nasty blog comments, as Indie absolutists hungrily seek any opportunity to “out” Del Rey with a quivering, condemning point of the finger shouting “FRAUD!”

In reaction to a recent interview in which Del Rey discussed drinking underage to deal with her own troubles, Hipster Runoff posted a mocking meme of Del Rey, the words “My daddy only cared about hoarding dot-coms: Confessions of a Teen Drinker” written across the picture.

If there were ever a case to be made about cyber-bullying, Lana Del Rey’s e-burning at the stake would be the shining example.

It’s like I told you, honey…

Early into the campaign, Del Rey’s management described her sound as “gangsta Nancy Sinatra”–a term she personally disapproves of, despite the fact that it remains the most astute characterization of Born To Die: It’s as though Sinatra’s “Bang, Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down),” in all of its swagger and seriousness, were stretched across a tripping hip-hop beat for 15 tracks. The result is a blend of youthful nostalgia and noir, capturing the very essence of summertime sadness (which, conveniently enough, is one of the song titles) on a tear-stained Polaroid from a summer decades ago. Sound a little melodramatic? So does this album–and yet, it works.

Largely produced by hip-hop producer Emile Haynie (Kid Cudi), Born To Die is an incredibly cohesive effort, as each song on the record is characterized by recurring noises: Lonesome plucks of a surf guitar, a distant male yelp in the distance, cinematic strings. Along with Haynie, Del Rey worked with several other talented songwriters and producers, including Jeff Bhasker (Kanye West), Rick Nowels (Lykke Li) and Chris Braide (The Saturdays, Diana Vickers).

Although the tradition of storytelling continues to die a slow death in today’s pop music (unless tales of getting down in the club are considered storytelling–to that, we have a great surplus), Del Rey has crafted evocative, colorful narratives, relying on Americana symbolism and Old Hollywood glamour of yesteryear to tell her tales: Stories of wild love affairs, girls gone wild, reckless abandon, and partners in crime riding off into the sunset.

“Born To Die,” the album’s defining anthem, sees Del Rey riding out the rest of her days with her bad boy in tow. And even if it marches forward with all the heavy-heartedness of a funereal procession sonically, the song’s overarching ride-or-die outlook remains endlessly romantic: “Let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain/You like your girls insane/Choose your last words/This is the last time/’Cause you and I, we were born to die,” she declares.

“The concept of almost every song on the record is a dark love story seen through hopeful eyes,” Del Rey told Flush The Fashion almost a year before her debut was released. Throughout the record, Del Rey toes the line gently in between death and romance, happily swooning about love while hinting at something much murkier working underneath: “I’m feeling electric tonight/Cruising down the coast, goin’ ’bout 99,” Del Rey declares defiantly above the marching beat of “Summertime Sadness,” “Got my bad baby by my heavenly side/I know if I go, I’ll die happy tonight.”

On “National Anthem,” Lana revels underneath bursting fireworks with her man, painting an idyllic scene of Bugatti whips and mansions in the Hamptons. “He loves to romance ‘em/Reckless abandon/Hold me for ransom/Upper echelon,” Del Rey dreamily purrs. It’s one of the album’s most evocative moments lyrically, as the songstress breathlessly indulges in the extravagance and grandeur of the American Dream, a la The Great Gatsby: “Money is the anthem/God, you’re so handsome,” Del Rey chants endlessly.

Tragically, the album version of the song–which trots along on a dark, spooky beat–utterly pales in comparison to the demo version that leaked weeks ago, which shines infinitely brighter above a gritty electric guitar and a punchier beat that pays proper justice to the kaleidoscopic grandeur of the song. It’s not that bad in the end–just a major missed opportunity.

When Lana’s heart isn’t being pumped full of delight, it’s crashing down in misery: One of the album’s standout moments, “Dark Paradise,” finds Lana mourning the loss of a love at sea: “There’s no remedy for memory/Your face is like a melody, it won’t leave my head,” Del Rey bellows out into the night. Yet beneath the song’s gothic exterior lies an deeply romantic sentiment, suggesting that love trumps all circumstances–even death: “No one compares to you/I’m scared that you won’t be waiting on the other side,” she confesses above the brooding beat.

Elsewhere, as on the bleak, slow-swaggering “Million Dollar Man”–another one of the album’s finest moments–Del Rey plays a broken-hearted songstress in a smoke-filled jazz bar, flexing her supreme songwriting skills alongside co-writer Chris Braide: “I don’t know how you get over, get over/Someone as dangerous, tainted and flawed as you,” Del Rey sorrowfully croons, her voice quivering with all the conviction of Fiona Apple at her finest.

“I heard that you like the bad girls honey, is that true?”

Being a bad girl certainly seems to be one of the most recurring themes in Born To Die: Look no further than the album cover itself, as a stony-faced Del Rey stands tall against the bright blue sky in a button-up white blouse, looking like a well-to-do Catholic school girl. It’s a perfectly stark photograph, sans one scandalous detail: That bright red bra visibly peeking out underneath the fabric.

When she’s not mournfully wailing on anthems like “Video Games” and “Born To Die,” Del Rey is getting downright flirty, promising sweetly-sung love affairs full of lavishness, laughter and so, so, so many kisses–in the pouring rain and otherwise.

“Off To The Races,” one of the tracks co-penned alongside Tim Larcombe (Girls Aloud, Sugababes) comes to life with vivid imagery and brag-like excess, as though Lana was putting the lyrics to a classic rap track to song: Bacardi chasers, glimmering swimming pools, bikini tops, red nail polish, gold coins, cocaine hearts. Except, of course, Lana Del Rey isn’t playing the boss: “I’m your little scarlet, starlet, singing in the garden/Kiss me on my open mouth,” Del Rey girlishly hiccups.

Indeed, Del Rey’s throwback persona dictates her lyrics in the most traditional sense, pitting the indie-pop princess with all the helplessness and unwavering loyalty of Tammy Wynette‘s “Stand By Your Man.”

During the anthemic “This Is What Makes Us Girls,” Lana and a group of trouble-making friends that play hard, love harder and raise Hell at sixteen years old: “We were skippin’ school and drinking on the job…with the boss,” Del Rey deadpans. It’s one of the album’s most instantly catchy cuts, even if the overarching message raises a feminist eyebrow raise or two: “This is what makes us girls, we don’t stick together ’cause we put our love first,” she croons. Erm…girl power?

At a point, the ‘I’ve been a bad girl, daddy’ shtick can prove somewhat troubling at times, especially as she navigates into territory like “Lolita,” in which Del Rey invokes her inner Betty Boop, raising her voice to a nearly childish high as she jumps from the bellowing of “Video Games” to coquettish tease: “I want my cake and I want to eat it too/I want to have fun and be in love with you,” she playfully teases.

Yet if we are to embrace Lana Del Rey as a “throwback,” we accept the outdated ideologies and notions about gender that come with the persona. There’s something very knowing–or perhaps just scandalously alluring, about Del Rey’s girlish teases throughout. True, there’s nothing too empowering about her music (I don’t think “Born To Die” will become the theme of the “It Gets Better” Movement any time soon), yet the neediness and fragility of songs like “Without You” are ultimately just as valid as any other emotion–even if they’re not particularly “good” kind.

Frankly, Born To Die is likely a more accurate depiction of our thoughts than some listeners would ever care to admit.

“Not even they can stop me now…”

With all the dialogue that Lana Del Rey has, intentionally or otherwise, generated–about authenticity, image, gender roles and everything in between, it’s difficult to fully appreciate this body of work at hand amidst both endless hate speech and intelligent, well-researched analysis (and yes, I’m self-aware enough to realize that I’m yet another voice in the mix).

It’s only when both the naysayers and Lana absolutists are reduced to a buzz in the background that the beauty in the darkness of Born To Die reveals itself: It’s a well-produced record–incredibly so, and even if the somewhat depressing, world-weary tone throughout the album weighs heavily (and a bit redundant) all in one go, Born To Die is still one of the most intriguing debut efforts in years.

In fact, not since Florence + The Machine‘s 2009 debut, Lungs, has there been such a masterful, well-crafted debut–nor with such a defining sound. Despite who or whatever she was prior to becoming Lana Del Rey, the rich, romantic stories and sweeping melodies that pour out each gorgeous track off of Born To Die will outlast any hateful headline that ever comes her way.

Born To Die was released on January 31. (iTunes)

In September of 2010, the world (well, the UK) watched as a jittery Worcestershire-born girl named Cher Lloyd strolled across the stage–suited in a a fitted black jacket and shredded white jeans–to audition for the X Factor. After a brief grilling by the judges regarding her name and age (“You look more!” Louis Walsh exclaimed after learning she was only 16 years old), Lloyd announced she’d be performing (Keri Hilson‘s cover of) Soulja Boy‘s “Turn My Swag On.”

And then she opened her mouth to sing.

The audition was electric: A mixture of vulnerable warbling and smooth-talking rap skills, Lloyd’s brilliantly crooned rendition of Soulja Boy’s song sent stunned ripples throughout the entire arena. The judges all stared, seemingly bewildered. When she finally finished, the crowd exploded into a long, uproarious cheer. Cher’s audition video almost immediately went viral, watched by millions worldwide fascinated by the young ‘swagga’-fied singer. As her soon-to-be mentor Cheryl Cole would happily proclaim following the audition: “You are right up my street!”

Even after all the incredible performances she’d deliver later on in the competition, it was exactly that first moment which would ultimately remain her most memorable, show-stopping performance of the season.

And so, she progressed onto the competition. Between her melodic vocal skills and ample on-stage cockiness, the swag-pop singer captivated (and sharply divided) X Factor viewers with her love-it-or-hate-it youthful brattitude. Cheryl Cole saw something. Will.I.Am saw something. And many, myself included, remained obsessed week after week.

Following her departure from the series (ultimately clocking in at fourth place behind soulful big belter Rebecca Ferguson, tween boy band One Direction and eventual ‘guitar-pop’ winner Matt Cardle), Lloyd was instantly signed with Simon Cowell‘s Sony Music imprint, Syco Music.

Cowell clearly saw Lloyd’s potential beyond her final X Factor performance, immediately thrusting her into the studio with dozens of drool-worthy A-list pop producers, including RedOne, Toby Gad, Max Martin and Shellback.

By mid-August of 2011, Lloyd released her debut The Runners-produced single: “Swagger Jagger”–an in-your-face hater anthem largely prompted by the backlash Lloyd received during (and after) her appearance on X Factor by detractors. “You can’t stop clickin ’bout me, writin’ ’bout me, tweeting ’bout me,” she taunts above the song’s dizzying beat–a noisy cross between a Black Eyed Peas-esque club banger and the mind-numbing irritation of a Crazy Frog ringtone. If Cher wasn’t enough of a divisive figure in pop culture already, she was now with “Swagger Jagger”–the very definition of a polarizing pop track.

And although the song thinly teetered between brilliance and club trash (or likely because of it), it worked: A week later, Lloyd secured her first #1 single in the UK.

A few months later, the singer returned to the scene with a refreshing new change in sound–or at least a slower BPM: “With Ur Love,” the RiRi-lite (if not ultimately safe) mid-tempo jam featuring silky-smooth pop crooner, Mike Posner. Perfectly timed for the back-to-school swoon-y season, the cutesy pop ditty brought home a second smash for the singer, landing at #4 on the UK Singles Chart.)

On November 7, a little over one year after stepping out onto the X Factor stage for the very first time, Lloyd released her debut record: Sticks + Stones, a 10-track collection of vibrant, jaunty electro-pop, hooky melodies, gritty dubstep influences and, of course, Lloyd’s signature brand of swag-pop.

From the very first second, it’s clear that Sticks + Stones is a distinctly ‘young’ album. After all, Cher Lloyd is only 18 years old (17 during most of the recording for the record) and the album smartly reflects thate-from the cheeky sing-song of “Swagger Jagger” and “Over The Moon,” to the silly studio ad-libbing at the end of “Want U Back” (“Do I sound like a helicopter? Brrrr!”) to the playful Gaga reference in “Playa Boi” (“He need to rock all the sickest brands and give me love, not a bad romance!”–all the more amusing given that both songs were crafted by RedOne.)

There’s no better representation of the album’s youthful flair as with album opener “Grow Up,” featuring a reliably amazing mile-a-minute verse by industry vet, Busta Rhymes. Alternating between deceptively sweet and sarcastic croonage (a la Alright, Still-era Lily Allen) and a ferocious flow (a la Nicki Minaj, growls and all), Cher merrily leads the charge against maturity on the manic mixture of reggae noises and pinball machine bleeps and bloops: “We ain’t ever gonna grow up, we just wanna get down/Show everybody who runs this town!”

“Want U Back”

Later on, Lloyd flaunts a little funny bone on the regret-filled “Want U Back.” Kicking off with a deliciously angry grunt that plays on loop (UHH!!!) the Shellback-produced track finds Lloyd ruing the day she ever stepped out on her man…who’s now being made all the happier by some other chick: “Remember all the things that you and I did first? And now you’re doing them with her?!” Lloyd sings incredulously on the bouncing electro-pop beat, dissing the chick’s jeans and denying all charges of jealousy in the process.

Sure, it borders on near stalker territory (just how do you know where they’re going ’round town, Cher?), but…oh, it’s just so endearing! “Want U Back” is one of the album’s catchiest, cutest moments–even if Lloyd’s gritting her teeth and clenching her fists with rage. If this isn’t a surefire candidate for Single #3…UHH!!!

“Playa Boi”–another strong single candidate–relies on a thick slice of late ’80′s/early ’90′s-encrusted synth-pop, along with an interpolation lifted directly from Neneh Cherry‘s international smash, “Buffalo Stance.” “No playa boi can win my love/It’s sweetness that I’m thinkin’ of,” Lloyd chants, adding an ever-so-slightly 21st century spin on the lyrics to Cherry’s 1988 classic. With its big, bossy chants (“Listen up! Turn it up!”) and funky fresh beats, “Playa Boi” serves up enough heat to have Paula Abdul fastening her wig (back in 1988, anyway.)

And while “Want U Back” and “Playa Boi” are two personal highlights, “Superhero” is likely the album’s single most genius moment in songcraft.

Produced by Jukebox (he of Willow Smith “Whip My Hair” fame) and co-penned by R&B-pop songwriting sensation Priscilla Renea (Rihanna, Cheryl Cole), the bouncy break-up story finds the young singer getting Marvel-minded above sharp stabs of strings and kicking drums while illustrating the story of a relationship gone wrong–comic book style: “Went to sleep a superhero and he woke up a villain, killing and killing my love/Oh, what happened?” Lloyd mourns.

“Superhero” isn’t just a catchy tune–it’s literally a non-stop assault of hooks and melodies. From the lyrics (“You said you could save me/I’m doing the saving”) to the live instrumentation to the wildly warbling hooks that Lloyd effortlessly nails (“I-I-I don’t wear no ti-i-ights!”), “Superhero” is truly a stunning victory for all parties involved.

Elsewhere, Lloyd takes the opportunity to wax autobiographical about her fast path to stardom: “When Simon told me I was trouble/All I said is ‘okay’/Now let me turn my swag on/And step up to the plate,” she raps during the opening of “Over The Moon.” Half gritty dubstep affair, half sing-songy ’40′s ditty that nearly brings Nicola Roberts‘ own debut to mind, the zany stormer is probably the best representation of Lloyd’s girly-gone-gangsta persona.

Yet of all her swagga-filled moments, “Dub On The Track” is by far her swaggiest moment yet.

After a meh version of the song originally leaked back in the summer, the song has since undergone a major facelift in its finished form. The newly polished–err, filthier track includes even more relentlessly grinding, winding dubstep synths and a fierce fist-pumper of a chant (“Work hard, party harder!”), as well as some cred-building assists by UK grime rappers Mic Righteous, Dot Rotten and Ghetts.

And while dubstep often has all the appeal of chewing on glass, Lloyd’s free-flowing melodies and rhymes keep the track mostly in check: “I’m hard to swallow, but a spoonful of sugar might make it go down more easily,” she sagely advises.

And while a bulk of the album is filled with bossy brags, heavy beats and sugary-sweet teenage dreamin’, it’s “Beautiful People”–the album’s devastating ballad co-produced by Max Martin and Shellback–that allows Lloyd to shine as a singer: “It’s beautiful people like you who get whatever they want/And it’s beautiful people like you who suck the life right out of my heart,” Lloyd sadly croons on top of the chilling piano melody and acoustic guitar strum, later joined by Carolina Liar.

As PopJustice rightfully pointed out, Lloyd’s fragility makes the track seem the most genuine–a little more of this kind of vulnerability and emotional honesty on the rest of the record would have been greatly appreciated.

Still, she’s excused for not wanting to dive too deep on her first go-around: This is Cher’s debut effort, and she’s made it clear that she’s (mostly) here to have fun. While the collection could have definitely benefited from at least another 2 or 3 songs, Sticks + Stones is still an impressive debut: It’s cute, it’s swagga-riffic, and it’s likely a stronger set than anyone would have probably anticipated from the young entertainer.

As with her appearance on X Factor–from her first earth-shattering audition to her tear-soaked take on Shakespears Sister‘s “Stay”–we should know better than to doubt the Almighty Lloyd.

After all, she’s the kind of girl to put dub on the track.

Sticks + Stones was released on November 7. (iTunes)

Kelly Clarkson‘s come a long way in just under a decade.

After becoming the first (and let’s be real, still easily the best) winner of American Idol in 2002, the singer first made her official mark with 2003′s Thankful, a debut collection complete with safe-yet-amazing post-Idol balladry (“Anytime”), soulful R&B-pop offerings (“Just Missed The Train”) and slightly rambunctious, attitude heavy pop-rock anthems, including “Miss Independent” and “Low.”

The runaway success of the latter two singles quickly helped to sculpt the sound of what would become Clarkson’s grand opus in 2004: Breakaway, one of the most defining pop records of the ’00′s–a pristine collection of electrifying pop-rock anthems produced by Max Martin, Dr. Luke and Ben Moody including “Behind These Hazel Eyes” and “Since U Been Gone” that officially shed the singer’s Idol image and quickly made Clarkson’s name synonymous to any and all things angst-pop.

Following the record-breaking success of Breakaway came My December in 2007. Generally dubbed as Clarkson’s “rebel moment,” Kelly opted to breakaway (pun!) from the familiar pop mold of her past and go a slightly less radio-friendly route, penning tougher, darker, and more revealing rock tracks than ever before. The album’s development led to a very heated, very public head-to-head power struggle between Clarkson and Sony BMG label head Clive Davis, who very openly professed his lack of faith in Clarkson’s upcoming release. And while My December–which spawned “Never Again” and the devastating power ballad “Sober”–was by no means a failure (in fact, it was generally received more favorably by critics than Breakaway), its performance was ultimately underwhelming.

In 2009, Clarkson returned once more with her fourth studio album, All I Ever Wanted. It was another strong release (as with every Clarkson album) and a smash hit, although marked with a certain by-the-numbers familiarity, including safe, radio-friendly anthems (“My Life Would Suck Without You”) and Katy Perry album rejects (“I Do Not Hook Up”). The album’s own cover painted the album’s narrative perfectly, featuring an uncomfortable Clarkson forced to half-smile against a schlocky, candy-coated Photoshop background. It was, in effect, a quiet acknowledgement that Davis had won this round.

Two more years have passed since then, leading to Clarkson’s fifth studio release: Stronger–the most perfect representation of harmony achieved.

Combining the power-pop anthems and radio friendly accessibility of Breakaway with the darker confessional appeal of My December, Stronger plays like the perfect marriage between artistic intent and label demand. It’s an effortless combination–counterbalancing the threat of overindulgence by an artist gone unchecked and the “sell-out” sound of a label with too many hands in the cookie jar–resulting in one of the strongest, most triumphant and wholly satisfying records of the year.

To craft Stronger, Clarkson and her team enlisted a solid collection of tried-and-true songwriters (Bonnie McKee, Ester Dean, Busbee) and incredible pop producers, including Toby Gad, Oligee and Greg Kurstin–the man responsible for the album’s three most major moments: “What Doesn’t Kill You (Stronger),” “Dark Side” and “Honestly,” which isn’t just an album highlight, but one of the most haunting songs Clarkson’s ever recorded.

“Could you love somebody like that?/Could you attract someone like that?” Clarkson slowly croons above a chilly, swirling electronic undercurrent, all complimented by a teary-eyed piano-led bridge, chilling howls in the background and some of Clarkson’s most devastating vocal delivery to date. It’s an utterly awe-inspiring number, the album’s greatest departure musically, and a particular highlight on the record.

“Dark Side” is another instant favorite: From the ingeniously twisted toy box introduction to the almighty crashing chorus (“Everybody’s got a dark side/Do you love me?/Will you love mine?”), the Kurstin-produced track is the very definition of a Breakaway-meets-My December brand of brilliance.

More than ever before in Clarkson’s discography, Stronger relies heavily on live instrumentation and unpolished vocals to emulate the concert experience. Similar to what Beyonce hoped to achieve with 4 earlier this year, Clarkson made it clear that her new album would include plenty of live instruments and forgo excessive Auto-Tune and vocoders in order to, in Clarkson’s own words, avoid the “compressed” sound of some of her older hits from a mixing standpoint. “I wanted this record to sound like my live vocals,” she told Metro.

Countless moments throughout–the jam session flow of “Hello,” the unrestrained emotion-wrought yelps of “Honestly,” the furiously storming bridge of “You Can’t Win”–surge with the same kind of raw energy you’d expect to hear at any Clarkson concert.

Interestingly, the album’s Brian Kennedy-produced lead single “Mr. Know It All” is probably one of the album’s riskiest single selections (and truthfully, one of its weaker moments). Like “Breakaway,” the song is breezier than the rest of the accompanying album’s contents, floating along a delicate melody recalling Bruno Mars “Just The Way You Are.” The song is thoroughly gorgeous, but despite my initial thoughts about the song, it’s admittedly nothing that would ever inspire much enthusiasm outside of Clarkson’s devoted fan base.

But if “Mr. Know It All” is Stronger‘s “Breakaway,” then “What Doesn’t Kill You (Stronger)” is the album’s “Since U Been Gone”: Set above a cool stream of synthesizers, Stronger‘s title track is easily the album’s most instantaneous, explosive anthem: “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, stand a little taller, doesn’t mean I’m lonely when I’m alone,” the singer yelps as the song lurches into its massive, fist-pumping chorus. “Stronger” is Stronger‘s strongest, most empowering moment–a fitting focal point, no doubt.

And while Stronger‘s brand of empowerment isn’t so much in the sense of embracing yourself as it is about, say, about dusting yourself victoriously after a broken heart, there’s still one incredibly satisfying number included that does directly address that flaws-and-all attitude: “You Can’t Win,” an anthem that more than a few of today’s pop stars probably wish they could write.

Instead of patronizing listeners with trite “feel good”-isms, Clarkson cleverly goes in from the opposite end: “If you’re straight, why aren’t you married yet?/If you’re gay, why aren’t you waving a flag?/You can’t win,” the singer angrily recounts. It’s the same message with a refreshing spin: People won’t just judge you for being you, but for not being you enough. You’ll never win, so just do you!

“Let Me Down” is yet another incredible moment; a sauntering explosion of crashing drums and guitars that remains as unbelievably listenable as it did back when it leaked back in early July. “You’re only gonna let me down/When it counts, you count down,” Clarkson unleashes with an earth-shattering roar during the chorus as her frustration mounts.

Then there’s “You Love Me,” one of the album’s most anticipated tracks after Clarkson first declared it to be her favorite song she’s ever recoded during a live stream Q&A with fans earlier this summer.

Set on top of a strumming beat that brings both The Police‘s “Every Breath You Take” and The Sugababes greatest non-single of all time “Ace Reject” to mind, Clarkson spouts out against the guy that’s done her wrong for almost a decade and counting: “You said you love me, but that I’m not good enough,” she bitterly barks as she spills her heart out on top of the ’80′s-esque beat. And while it’s not my favorite of all time (yet, anyway), it’s certainly an incredible song that finds Clarkson exploring new musical ground–all the more impressive given that she apparently wrote the song in 15 minutes.

Further into the album, Clarkson sinks her teeth into ballad territory. And while the album’s true highlights are the uptempo tracks, its the gorgeous comedowns in between–including the stunning “Standing In Front Of You” with its nearly Imogen Heap-like chorus and the Country-tinged album closer “Breaking Your Own Heart”–that prevent Clarkson’s mighty flame from burning too quickly.

If Stronger ever really falters, it’s lyrically–as with “Einstein,” which suffers from a bout of mathematical metaphor overload (“Simple math, our love divided by the square root of pride”) and a particularly cringe-worthy chorus (“Dumb plus dumb equals you”). While the song’s soulful swagger (which brings Thankful‘s “You Thought Wrong” to mind) is completely spot-on, the lyrics are slightly too juvenile in comparison to the rest of the record. And I know Kelly ain’t Shakespeare, but silly metaphor plus silly metaphor equals…well, kind of hard to take seriously.

The occasional lyrical misstep aside, Stronger remains an absolute victory, and the powerhouse singer still sounds just as flawless as she ever did before. Clarkson’s rich, melodic vocals continue to prove why she stands several rungs above every other modern female pop star, ranking her amongst the very greatest singers of our time, including Whitney Houston, Celine Dion and Mariah Carey, but without a trace of ego: She is, essentially, the ultimate non-diva diva.

In today’s climate “It Gets Better”-style pop, music has come to feel more like a trendy marketing ploy than a genuine outpouring of concern. Yet Stronger stands a cut above the rest within today’s of-the-moment anthems, holding true to the same self-empowerment Clarkson’s harnessed since the early ’00′s–from the confident sass of “Mr. Know It All” to the soldiering “The War Is Over,” in which she defiantly declares: “All I have to say is you don’t deserve me.”

Despite the bumps and bruises along the way, Stronger wholeheartedly lives up to its title.

Stronger was released on October 24. (iTunes)

Nicola Roberts is a different kind of pop star.

There’s just no getting around it, really: Ever since her name was called as one-fifth of the band that went on to become Girls Aloud during the finale of the 2002 reality series Pop Stars: The Rivals, the Lincolnshire-born redhead with porcelain skin stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the pristine pop quintet. There was something special about Nicola, something different–dare say “alternative” about the then 17-year-old songstress.

Roberts made her mark in the Aloud as the quiet, quirky vocalist responsible for some of the band’s most memorable moments–the opening seconds of “Untouchable,” the second verse of “Whole Lotta History,” the show-stopping bridge of “Call The Shots.” More often than not, it was Roberts’ shaky, vulnerable vocals that placed an ice-coated cherry on top of some of the Aloud’s finest work.

But being “different” can often be problematic, and for Nicola, induction into the Almighty Aloud was nearly a curse: From the get go, Roberts was relentlessly teased and bullied in the British tabloids for her appearance, as well as an apparent bad attitude: “Ginger.” “Pale.” “Ugly.” In 2003, Busted‘s Matt Willis pronounced her a “rude ginger bitch,” a nickname that the press fondly appropriated for years. And despite the best efforts made by her fellow bandmates to protect her against seeing the stories, Roberts was still well aware of the continuous public mockery, leading to several years of excessive drinking and an unhealthy obsession with tanning.

Lest anyone be confused and think she simply stood there and dealt with the criticism however, it’s simply not true: Nicola Roberts has always found ways to fight back.

During a performance at G-A-Y in London in 2003 for instance, the quiet crooner took a cheeky stab at Matt Willis’ attack by donning a black skirt with the words “RUDE GINGER BITCH…BOTHERD?!” painted on the back. Later on in her career, as Roberts slowly grew confident in her natural appearance, she would tackle her tanorexia head-on in an eye-opening BBC special, Nicola Roberts: The Truth About Tanning.

Now, with the release of debut record out on September 26, Cinderella’s Eyes, Roberts has gone one step further and turned the tables on her detractors completely with one loud, defiant rallying call: “TEAM GINGE.”

When Roberts’ solo campaign became public knowledge broke in early 2011, fellow Alouders Cheryl Cole and Nadine Coyle had already released their own solo efforts: Cheryl supplied the radio-friendly R&B-pop with smashes like “Fight For This Love” and “Promise This” with producers like Wayne Wilkins and Will.I.Am at the helm, while Nadine lent her tried-and-true diva pipes to Toby Gad and Guy Chambers-penned torch ballads and powerful pop tracks like “Insatiable.”

Roberts, as the running theme of her personal narrative goes, had something a little different in mind. Reports soon indicated that the singer was heading into the studio with indie-approved acts like Diplo, Dimitri Tikovoi, Metronomy, Dragonette and The Invisible Men, generating (accurate) predictions from the get-go that this particular Aloud member’s solo career would be the most ambitious, forward-thinking Aloud offering yet. “I didn’t want to play it safe and I didn’t want to make a record that was a guaranteed commercial success,” she told The Guardian back in June.

Out burst lead single “Beat Of My Drum” in May, an all-out assault of Diplo-produced jittery video game bleeps and blips, nonsensical electronica noise and a major cheerleader-approved chorus that found Roberts shouting–truly yelping–from the top of her lungs: “L! O! V! E! Dance to the beat of my drum!”

Every inch of the song was symbolic; the blossoming from the quiet, meek girl group member to a full-blown solo star of her own accord. From the lyrics (“Graduation, take a bow/See how strong you’ve made me now”) to the video, which featured an initially nervous Nicola taking to the stage and slowly taking over a gymnasium with a group of zany dancers and a ceaseless amount of booty bounces and cocky hair flips–put Roberts firmly in control of her career with her own brand of crazy, sexy, cool.

Even the vocals took most fans by surprise: Far from the gorgeously crooned, disco-friendly vocals we’d come to expect from Roberts while in Aloud, here was the same girl now utterly belting out a number with an odd, erratic mixture of Broadway-ready vibrato and ’40′s-era doo-wop wailing.

Roberts’ voice was even further highlighted in follow-up single “Lucky Day,” a sparkling, sing-songy track produced by Dragonette that found Roberts riffing up and down with all her might–nearly to the point of parody–against a backing track of glittery electronica and pounding beats.

Finally, on September 26, Roberts released her long-awaited solo debut, Cinderella’s Eyes, a collection of smartly crafted, endlessly cool electro-pop tunes.

Even the album’s gorgeous, Juergen Teller-esque campaign shots are as tasty as its contents. Decked out in ornate stilettos and brilliant designer threads filled with loud splashes of color, Nicola is pictured in a variety of brilliant poses: Sitting atop a kitchen sink cluttered with dirty dishes, walking a pony on a leash, scandalously holding a jar of dumdums between her legs, lying rigid against a hardwood floor–the perfect mixture of silly, chic and sophisticated.

Cinderella’s Eyes is largely an exercise in self-empowerment and self-discovery (though not without its fair share of self-doubt.) Unlike the all-too-assured “it gets better” anthems manufactured by hit-making machines like Katy Perry (“Firework”), Roberts’ record shines with a solid footing in reality: It’s not so much “It gets better,” it’s “It gets better…if you do something about it,” a rare shred of honesty that simply doesn’t exist in modern pop these days, and the kind of music that feels more inspiring and motivational than most other mainstream feel-good anthems today.

“Little girl, you got to do it for yourself / In a world where cards are so randomly dealt,” Roberts sagely advises on the album’s title track, one of the many moments of Roberts’ grand reclamation of her own destiny. Bouncing along an ’80′s synth beat, Roberts offers her well-intentioned advice through infectious hooks and melodies. “No more pretending there’s happy endings, you got to make one, make one,” she continues.

Fittingly, it’s The Invisible Men–the same producers behind one of the Aloud’s most forward thinking, game-changing smashes, 2004′s “The Show”–that claim responsibility to two of Cinderella’s Eyes‘ most thundering tracks: “Say It Out Loud” and “Take A Bite.”

Featuring deliciously rich vocal stuttering and layers upon layers of gorgeous electronica, “Say It Out Loud” is a euphoric moment of synth-pop, reminiscent of something Ellie Goulding might produce. “‘Cause the only medication / For a heart that knows it’s breaking / Is to get it out now, say it out loud…WOAH!” she shouts aloud on behalf of all broken hearts.

“Take A Bite,” meanwhile, grinds and grooves with along a rollicking drum ‘n’ bass beat that evokes an early Aloud brattitude…and even a rap to boot! “Called me a rude ginger bitch and say I bought bigger tits / They’re gonna eat all their words, they’re talking absolute shit,” she merrily sing-songs, taking one last jab at the nickname that’s haunted her for years.

Even the album’s lone cover, “Everybody’s Got To Learn Sometime,” a cover of The Korgis, is a no-brainer addition to the collection. Crooning on top of a slow-sizzling electronic groove, Roberts’ rendition converts the 1980 hit into a throbbing slow jam that fits in effortlessly with the rest of the production as she croons one of the album’s key themes: “Change your heart…it will astound you.”

But it’s when Nicola breaks away from the positivity on a few tracks however that the record becomes even more real–and to a degree, somewhat flawed. “i” is undoubtedly Nicola’s most unhinged moment, a Kate Bush-evoking slow jam that finds the songstress issuing out a laundry list of daily worries and aspirations on top of a hazy beat and groovy guitar strum straight out a post-LCD Beatles songbook. “I’m scared of dying and not trying, scared of getting old / I’m scared of telling lies, [in] case karma comes and eats me whole,” she warbles off-key. “I don’t like the people that leave comments on the Internet / They preach they’re perfect while they’re fucking you with intellect.” It’s both the best and the worst representation of the album–the most irritating moment vocally in some ways, but also her most vulnerable outpouring of insecurities.

Fittingly, it’s worth noting upon hearing “i” that Cinderella’s Eyes simply isn’t perfect: While the production and lyricism easily makes the album one of the best of the year, it’s Roberts’ newly discovered new pipes that occasionally throw off the record, often jumping from pleasant crooning to grating yelps in a matter of seconds. The shrill shrieks can often be cringe-worthy and–at certain points–nearly unbearable.

Even some of the album’s more uptempo cuts threaten to burst at the seams with their combination of Nicola’s vibrato-heavy vocals and big pop production. “Gladiator,” for instance, bounces along with the same happy-go-lucky pop energy as Sky Ferreira‘s “99 Tears.” But unlike Ferreira’s too-cool-for-school air that works so well with “99 Tears,” Roberts’ chirpy, Liza-like delivery comes across as downright annoying, making the unexpectedly naughty lyricism (“I got some KY, time to open wide!”) feel all the more…err, grating.

Vocal limitations aside, Cinderella’s Eyes still largely flourishes as a whole. And when Roberts isn’t busy bettering herself, she’s wearily ruminating on relationships gone bad.

“Yo-Yo,” a chilly mid-tempo, captures the essence of what made Girls Aloud so legendary while still remaining true to Roberts’ own personally narrative as she goes back and forth in a relationship gone south. “You come around, stop messing around / If you wanna be my baby please tell me now,” the singer pleads. And while you’re at it, prepare for the album’s most lush moment during the bridge–a full minute of shiver-inducing, Aloud-esque icy disco crooning: “You got me wrapped right around your finger / And I can’t let go, and I can’t let go,” she agonizes.

“Fish Out Of Water,” Metronomy’s other production aside from “i”–is perhaps the album’s most understated moment. Riding along a weird, warbling wave of ambient noise, Roberts tenderly ponders the loss of her first love. Of course, there’s also the song unbelievably gorgeous finish, as Nicola purrs in her (way underutilized) lower register: “Even if I have to go alone, I’d rather that then let you go, so I’ll face the road unknown.” It’s a chilling moment that surely would have been another one of Nicola’s show-stopping lines in an Aloud offering.

Yet while all the electro-encrusted gems dispersed throughout the record represent Nicola’s quirky personality, nothing quite epitomizes Cinderella’s Eyes like its final moment: “sticks + stones.”

Floating along a sad, haunting melody, the album’s closer is a fearless, be-all end-all account of Roberts’ experience as a member of the Aloud, featuring a bridge that might as well be a page ripped directly from her diary during the mid ’00′s:

Too young to buy my own bottle of vodka
So I’d beg the driver please I need another
How funny that I was too young for so many things
Yet you thought I’d cope with being told I’m ugly
Over and over I’d read it, believe it
Said no to the shrink I can fix me I think
I got friends in my head they’ve got me on the mend
I am pretty in my mirror, easy to pretend
17 and thought that I’d won the jackpot
Seems I didn’t read between the lines of this one
I can’t think why I could of made you so, so angry
Your bullets I don’t feel them come on and fire at me

In the same vein as Christina Aguilera‘s legendary “Beautiful” (albeit with a more personal touch), as Roberts reassures once and for all: You’re not alone–a touching way to signal the end of her debut.

“With all their mean words, they’re ugly / Starting to see I’m lucky, and that’s enough,” Roberts tenderly concludes at one point. If that isn’t one of the most powerful pop lyrics to be uttered in years, I honestly don’t know what is.

Cinderella’s Eyes would certainly be considered a solid attempt for any debut artist–let alone a girl group member-turned-solo star (a category from which the end results are so rarely satisfying.)

Yet while Roberts has successfully made the transition from the shadows of the Aloud into the spotlight as an act in her own right, her debut is often weakened due to a delivery gone unrestrained; the result being a series of shrieks and yelps (which is perhaps to make up for nearly a decade of being subjected to quiet crooning in the background) that isn’t always the easiest to endure.

Still, thanks to her emotional honesty, charming wit, and ability to avoid any and all pandering (i.e. no club cuts or cliche love songs), Nicola has forged her own unique musical identity as a solo act while taking a stand once and for all against the bullies. There’s a kind of solace in Cinderella’s Eyes–it’s real, it’s relatable, and it’s one of the best offerings of 2011.

By all accounts, Team Ginge has won the war.

It was right after she first began posting demos on her MySpace–songs like 2007′s spacey “Surveillance” (which remains as next level today as it did the day she unleashed it upon the world), that I first took notice of Wynter Gordon, the 23-year-old underdog with a superstar’s worth of potential waiting to be unleashed each time she lays a pen to paper.

Just a few years after graduating from LaGuardia’s High School for the Performing Arts (alma mater of such notable acts as Kelis and Nicki Minaj), the young songstress had already notched herself a major writing credit with “Gonna Breakthrough,” a song from Mary J. Blige‘s Grammy Award-winning seventh studio album, The Breakthrough.

Ever since then, the co-writes and features (and unfortunately, the myriad leaks) only kept flowing for Wynter securing a spot on Danity Kane‘s 2008 sophomore record, Welcome To The Dollhouse (“2 Of You”), penning the impossibly catchy chorus of Flo-Rida‘s chart-topping 2009 radio smash “Sugar” and David Guetta‘s “Toyfriend,” joining The Freemasons on their essential 2010 summer jam “Believer” and, most recently, scribing three tracks off of Jennifer Lopez‘s stellar 2011 comeback record LOVE? including title track, “(What Is) Love?”

But despite all of her success as a writer, the song that truly launched Wynter as an artist in her own right was 2010′s “Dirty Talk,” a filthy-mouthed foray into kinky taunts and raunchy references to S&M above a dark disco beat that debuted nearly a year before Rihanna ever started crooning about her enthusiasm for chains and whips.

The song not only notched the singer’s first-ever #1 on the Billboard Hot Dance/Club Play stateside, but kept her straddling Australia’s ARIA Chart at #1 for three weeks in January (and the duration of Australia’s summer season).

Now, nearly four years since she first started making ripples across the blogosphere and beyond, the Queens-born singer/songwriter has finally released her long-awaited, much delayed debut: The fabulously titled With The Music I Die.

With The Music I Die is the album of Summer 2011, as well as one of the best records of the year–a flavorful collection of sparkling dance floor gems packed with hypnotic rhythms, pulsating beats, ruthlessly catchy hooks and an unwavering attitude.

Released exclusively in Australia (with worldwide release planned for later this year), every song on the record is a genuine hit–from the sauntering “Drunk On Your Love” courtesy of the brilliant Nervo twins, to the hazy ’80′s beats of the Nick Littlemore (Empire of the Sun)-produced “Still Getting Younger,” to “Rumba (feat. Kevin McCall),” a lusciously hypnotic Latin-tinged banger (and the best thing she never serviced to J-Lo.)

Looking to repeat the smashing success of “Dirty Talk,” the album’s opener and second single (and namesake!) “Til Death” bursts with an explosive chorus and a searing throb courtesy of Denzal Park. “Til death do we party, with the music I die!” Wynter declares. Between the awesomely defiant lyricism (“Wearing all black like a brand new bride”) and the carefully crafted hooks, it’s hard to describe “Til Death” as anything less than slay-worthy.

Still, there’s plenty of potential candidates for follow-up singles, including the edgy, temptation-riddled “Don’t Stop Me.” “You’re giving me the look, you want it / Uh! You’ve done it now,” Gordon groans above the dark, throbbing beat. The attitude doth overflow on this bossy little club shaker: It’s a little RiRi, some Celebration-era Madge, a wee bit of Britney‘s “Trouble” all rolled into one sensational aural orgasm.

Then there’s the gorgeous “All My Life,” the album’s most straightforward club cut: “I can’t eat / I can’t sleep / I can’t dance ’til you’re with me!” Wynter sweetly pleads across the song’s surging, trance-tastic beats. Trip to Ibiza, anyone?

But just as with “Dirty Talk,” Wynter’s at her best when she’s being a cheeky brat, including the sparkling “Buy My Love.” The summery uptempo finds the flirty chanteuse dusting off the age-old “Diamonds Are A Girl’s Best Friend” mantra and giving it a modern twist: “There’s a million ways to show your devotion / So many ways to sway my emotions / Don’t you hesitate to buy my love!” she merrily crrons above bouncy beats and electro-steel drum rhythms.

One of Wynter’s greatest strengths is her effortlessly melodic, urgent vocal styling. Accordingly, “Back To You”–the album’s spine-tingling mid-tempo (and only actual “ballad”)–might be the best representation of both Gordon’s sharp-witted writing skills and flawless vocal delivery: “I’m a fabulous example of an exhausted wanderer,” she croons above the chilly whisper of a beat. “I can walk all day and smile and say that this here is success / But it don’t mean shit unless you’re here, and you’re not, and I’m a mess.” The song is the very definition of too real (in the best way possible), and one of the many indicators that Gordon is far more than a run-of-the-mill dance floor diva.

But it’s in the album’s incredible final moment, “In The Morning (feat. Robbie Rivera)”, that Gordon burns brightest. Like the sad disco sound that Swedish pop queen Robyn has crafted as her own, “In The Morning” bumps with an undeniable tears-on-the-dance-floor throb. “I am going home alone tonight / You are with your friends. and that’s alright / ‘Cause they all hit on me when you’re not looking,” Gordon half-snickers, half-sighs before a cascade of bright synthesizers comes crashing into the speakers. It’s sorrowful and celebratory all at once–the mark of a perfect dance song.

Although I would have loved to hear her flexing the R&B-pop muscle she’s been building up over the past few years, the album’s strictly dance floor-only status doesn’t limit Wynter to filling a drink up in her cup or getting bodied in the club. Amidst all the fun and flirtation, there’s also sadness, anger, resignation and angst. It’s a much more emotionally complex record than the beats might imply, proving what dance aficionados have always known to be true: Dance music doesn’t have to be dumb.

Now, as “Til Death” continues to rise on Australia’s ARIA Singles Chart and the temperature begins to drop down under, one thing remains certain: Australia is in for a long, long Wynter.

With The Music I Die was released on June 17 in Australia. (iTunes Australia)
The With The Music I Die EP was released on June 28 in America. The full album will be released later this year. (iTunes)

If you’re looking for Sasha Fierce, don’t bother: She’s gone.

Well, not entirely–she’s certainly still there twerking her hips above the militant beat of “Run The World (Girls)” and the frenzied horn-filled club bounce of “Countdown,” but for the most part, the divalicious alter ego of one of the world’s greatest entertainers has (temporarily?) stepped a stiletto to the side for the majority of her fourth studio album, 4–allowing the record to remain a decidedly Beyoncé experience.

Trouble came quickly for Beyoncé this year when a demo of the lead single from 4, “Run The World (Girls),” sprung an early leak.

The bouncy Diplo & Switch-produced club banger, which relies (a bit too heavily) on an extended sample of Major Lazer‘s “Pon De Floor” was instantly panned by a number critics and fans alike. Supporters of the 2009 Major Lazer hit were quick to dismiss the singer as a bold-faced song swiper. Others said the song “misses the mark big time.” Driving home from work on the day of the song’s premiere, I heard the DJ announce live on radio: “We’ve got the new Beyoncé single…and it’s TERRIBLE.” Reception was lukewarm, to say the absolute least.

Despite high-profile performances on both Oprah‘s final show celebration and the 2011 Billboard Awards, the song stalled at #29 on the Billboard Hot 100 charts.

She fared no better with the soft iTunes release of “1+1,” the Prince-tinged album opener she performed live on American Idol finale, which barely clawed its way to #57 on the charts.

Around the same time, news broke that she and her father ended their professional partnership, and Mathew Knowles stepped down as her manager prior to the release of 4. Rumors swirled regarding Columbia’s confidence in the album–from rumored album release push-backs to supposed re-recording sessions. Backlash started flying after it was revealed that the Billboard Awards performance was more or less a direct copy of a performance from Italian pop star, Lorella Cuccerini. Then, the album’s promotional photos soon came pouring in–a confusing clutter of both ’70′s-inspired glamour and misguided high fashion fetishism, doing nothing to clarify any real direction for the record. (Is that a Clifford the Big Red Dog draped over her shoulders?)

Yet astonishingly, regardless of whatever truth the rumors hold, it seems as though Beyoncé simply doesn’t care about commercial success right now.

What the casual listener may not have already seen or read (by no fault of their own, as she’s has done a staggeringly minimal amount of promotion thus far) is that 4 is the product of the singer’s first break away from the music industry. Taking off more than a year since she first started in the industry well over 15 years ago with Destiny’s Child, Beyoncé spent her time broadening her musical horizons, attending concerts (Rage Against The Machine!) and generally experiencing life (however normal that may be for a larger-than-life superstar.)

She spoke candidly about her experience to Billboard two months ago:

I took more than a year off: I traveled around, spent time with my husband, woke up in my own bed, ate whatever I wanted, went to museums and Broadway plays, watched documentaries, and just had life experiences. I never get to go to concerts because I’m usually performing, so I saw so many shows – great bands, like Muse and Rage Against the Machine, that also inspired the album. There were a lot of artists I’d never been exposed to: I’m like a sponge and soak everything up, and I learned so much from watching these great performers. Having time to grow as a human being was really inspiring, and gave me a lot to pull from. I’m excited about growing: I can just have fun, and the artistic freedom to do whatever I want. At this point, I really know who I am, and don’t feel like I have to put myself in a box. I’m not afraid of taking risks – no one can define me.

And it seems she’s truly taken her artistic freedom to heart, as the album veers sharply from the chart-ready club banger pattern of her back catalog. Instead, she’s returned with live soul sessions and aching, nostalgic power ballads that drip with the intent of pure artistic fulfillment. But as a result, there’s not a single radio hit to be found on 4.

4 is meant to be enjoyed as a complete album experience. There are no radio-friendly singles on this album (barring “Run The World,” which proves even more jarring than it already is as the follow-up to the emotionally devastating “I Was Here”). This is actual musicianship, marked by gorgeous live instrumentation and raw, stripped vocals.

While speaking with Billboard about the wide range of influences behind her new record, Beyoncé named Afrobeat founder Fela Kuti as a main source of inspiration, along with an incredibly eclectic array of other acts: “I also found a lot of inspiration in ’90s R&B: Earth, Wind & Fire, DeBarge, Lionel Richie, Teena Marie… I listened to a lot of Jackson 5 and New Edition, but also Adele, Florence + the Machine, and Prince,” she told the magazine.

To help channel such a wide array of influences, Beyoncé’s team enlisted a full-on production powerhouse for 4, featuring contributions by Tricky Stewart, The-Dream, Kanye West and Diplo & Switch.

Yet more of the album has been crafted by fresher faces such as Shea Taylor, whose production credits have up until now extended to one or two tracks off of megawatt albums, including Rihanna‘s Good Girl Gone Bad (“Question Existing”) and Janet Jackson‘s Discipline (“Discipline). Here, Taylor co-commands no less than seven, including “Countdown,” “Love On Top” and a personal highlight, “I Miss You.”

The minimal ballad, which drifts atop of a chilly, drippy beat and weird, warped ambient sound, isn’t merely a ballad–it’s the perfect encapsulation of loneliness on record. “It hurts my pride to tell you how I feel, but I still need you,” she sadly pleads; her voice eerily echoed and distant. It’s easily one of the most haunting songs I’ve heard in recent time–an instant favorite.

Even with long-standing collaborators like Ryan Tedder, it’s clear that Beyoncé’s stepped up her game: While “Halo” was a surefire radio smash from the I Am…Sasha Fierce sessions, 4‘s Diane Warren-penned “I Was Here” stands as an utter triumph in songcraft.

“When I leave this world, I’ll leave no regrets / Leave something to remember, so they won’t forget,” she declares during the all-or-nothing ballad. “I was here / I lived, I loved,” Beyonce continues to cry out with sobering finality, as though delivering the very epithet that will one day appear on her grave. “I Was Here” is one of the most defining statement of purposes she’s ever delivered, and arguably one of the finest records she’s ever crafted.

Devastation aside, there’s also a fair share of anger to go around. “I Care,” a similarly minimal, desolate power ballad, finds Beyoncé bitterly biting back against a less-interested lover about her own feelings. “I know you don’t care too much, but I still care,” she angrily tears into the chorus. “Boy, maybe if you cared enough / I wouldn’t have to care so much.”

The album’s second single, “Best Thing I Never Had,” is also steeped in shade. Much like fellow DC3 member Michelle Williams‘ “Thank U,” the charging power ballad throws a curve ball by allowing Beyoncé to sarcastically thank her former flame for being the worst. “I bet it sucks to be you right now!” she fumes above the chugging piano-and-strings melody. The song is an absolute smash, save for one lyric: “You showed your ass, and I saw the real you.” While it’s fairly obvious that she’s trying out another way to say something to the effect of “You showed your true colors,” the line will never not sound like the song could just be about mooning someone. Troubling, no matter how many times it’s sung.

Most of the time though, Beyonce is relishing in that loving feeling: The horn-heavy, Kanye-produced “Party (feat. Andre 3000)” is a throwback exercise in feel-good music making, while “Love On Top” relishes in a ’70′s sheen of funky rhythms and guitar grooves. This is food for the soul!

“Countdown,” the album’s only other uptempo club track, comes blaring into the speakers with Afrobeat horns and pounding drums hoisted on high like a crazed marching band, as Bey cleverly counts down to the chorus (“My baby is a (Ten!) / We dressing to the (Nine!)”). As far as the Sasha Fierce sympathizers is concerned, this is the closest she comes to delivering the album’s weave-patting, hip-grinding club anthem. But is it on par with past offerings like “Diva” or “Sweet Dreams”? Not quite.

Frustratingly, it’s the album’s deluxe edition tracks that give 4 a much needed boost in BPM that the standard edition could have truly benefited from, including the unbelievably good “Schoolin’ Life.”

The jaw-droppingly solid, Whitney-esque moment of jubilation celebrates Bey’s need to unleash her inner freak (“Mom and Dad tried to hide the boys, I swear that just made them want me even more / At 14 they asked me what I want to be, I said ‘Baby 21, so I can get me a drink!”). It’s the most fun a girl can have while listening to 4–a sorely missed inclusion in the original tracklisting.

Other cuts include the soul-warming Stargate-penned “Lay Up Under Me” (another “Love On Top”-like flair of classic ’70′s soul) and “Dance For You,” a seductive slow grind that sizzles atop a slow grind cooked up by The-Dream. The song is not entirely unlike cuts like “9 to 5″ and “So Good,” two cuts off of (the deeply under-appreciated and largely overlooked) debut of The-Dream side project, Electrik Red.

Apart from being overloaded with a steady stream of slower tunes–a pacing that will do nothing for radio-friendly ears or dance-ready feet (and one that could have easily remedied with the inclusion of the deluxe edition tunes)–4 is a gorgeous, solid album experience that pays proper tribute to a slice of music history without artificially recreating any one artist’s signature sound.

While the album is nearly guaranteed to go down as the first major misfire in Beyoncé’s otherwise unshakable career track record–the dreaded “artistic attempt”–it’s as much of a guarantee that future listeners will re-visit this record in time to discover that it is, in fact, a gem.

4 was released on June 28. (iTunes)

After the release of her critically acclaimed Introduction EP back in 2010, UK singer-songwriter-drummer Florrie is back for another round.

The former Xenomania in-house band member–who first rose to prominence as a solo artist after giving away a handful of electro-pop gems produced by Fred Falke on her official website–returns on June 14 with the Experiments EP, a six-track collection of crunchy electro-pop tunes.

The Experiments EP finds Florrie flirting with an airy ’60′s French pop nostalgia mixed with cutting-edge pop penning and production by the likes of Fred Falke, MNEK and Mike Chapman. From the festive mariachi-electro horn flairs of “She Always Gets What She Wants” to the dreamy strings of the SomethingALaMode-produced “What You Doing This For?”, the entire mini-album meshes well with the carefully cribbed pop perfection of other acts imbued with the Xenomania essence, including Girls Aloud, Annie and Rachel Stevens, while still managing to carve out its own delightful identity.

“I Took A Little Something,” one of the collection’s brightest moments, is a neatly unearthed ’80′s synth-pop summertime smash, as Florrie’s light, dreamy vocals–marked by a Brian Higgins-esque (Xenomania) touch of smooth-spoken, hook-heavy lyrics–float above endless array of sparkling synthesizers.

While Florrie’s music may never enter into the realm of Top 40 pop–the production still feels too left-of-center for radio’s current pop taste buds (which even Florrie herself has said)–the Experiments EP should only further Florrie’s ever-expanding underground following with some of the most lush, listenable synth-pop you’ll encounter this year.

In keeping with Florrie’s incredibly thoughtful, transparent process regarding the release of her music, the UK singer-songwriter has put the entire Experimenting EP on YouTube–as well as on iTunes.

If you like what you hear, please support her!

The Experiments EP was released on June 14. (iTunes)

For those of us who have been following Simon Curtis from the very early days of his career, RA is a pretty big deal.

I first heard Simon’s music in 2007, when the tracks that would later comprise his first EP, Alter Boy, began circulating online. Tracks like the bouncy “Put Your Makeup On” and Britney-referencing “Detox” grabbed my attention instantly. In 2010, Simon released his first official album, 8Bit Heart, for free on his website; the reaction from listeners was so enthusiastic that the growing legion of fans was dubbed the Robot Army — a group that are every bit as rabid, if not as numerous, as GaGa’s Little Monsters.

So even though RA could be called Simon’s third album, it’s actually his first commercial release — although he remains (incredibly) without a manager, publicist, agent, or label. RA is the first release that could ratchet up enough in sales to position him as a veritable player in the hyper-competitive, oversaturated pop market. RA is the first release that could give Simon the platform that he wants, and deserves.

With RA, the stakes are kinda high.

It’s a relief, then, to discover that it’s not a simple album, or an easy one. From that album cover (captured by in-demand shutterbug Tyler Shields) to the tracklist (titles like “Laser Guns Up,” “How to Start a War,” and “Enemy” create a loose extended metaphor of violence and combat), the album is fraught with emotion — namely, anger — and the expression of that feeling takes precedence over making Simon look good. (This may sound like a fairly straightforward thing, but it’s noteworthy for an artist, especially one who doesn’t yet have the luxury of major-label backing, to sacrifice cultivating a palatable image for greater artistic integrity.)

The gloss and glitz of his early work is traded in for grime and grit, and even though the beats are sleekly pop, the album takes its cues from dubstep, industrial, and drum & bass music. Much of the album sounds like the soundtrack to a sleazy eastern European sex club — I mean that in the most complimentary way possible — like a bitter, vitriolic Justin Timberlake, raised on a diet of Krautrock and diamond dust.

This is not to say that there aren’t more organic touches — the strings on “Soul 4 Sale” are a great example — but it’s overwhelmingly a dark, disillusioned affair. Nowhere is this more finely drawn than on “Enemy,” which I’ve loved since hearing Simon at the ArjanWrites showcase back in April — and the studio version roars and thunders, big and angry without ever losing sight of its pop origins. It would make a worthy third single, following barnstormer “Superhero” and sensual “Flesh.”

Simon has always been transparent about his influences, and two of his icons — Britney Spears and Darren Hayes — are felt everywhere on this record, especially with regard to both artists’ best works (Blackout and The Tension and the Spark, respectively). Like Britney, Simon’s music has a razor-sharp pop edge; he knows that creating music that makes us want to dance is imperative (even as he tells us, “Don’t Dance,” in one of the album’s highlights). But like Darren, Simon writes out of some very private vulnerability, documenting the darkest pieces of himself — the rage and the resentment, the envy and the cynicism — in a way that makes the music so much more compelling than it would be if he’d kept it all neatly compartmentalized.

On Simon’s part, this may be totally exhibitionistic, but make no mistake: It’s a lot of fun to be a part of Simon’s dark, diabolical world.

RA was released on June 7. (iTunes)

On Saturday night, Lady Gaga sat spread eagle atop a delivery table on the stage of Saturday Night Live, belting out “Born This Way” while grasping her very pregnant prosthetic belly before flooding the delivery table with goo and glitter.

“My water just broke,” the 25-year-old superstar tweeted late on Sunday night. And today, on May 23, Born This Way, Gaga’s second studio album, was born to the world.

First things first: To fully understand the exhaustive Born This Way campaign is the equivalent of earning a Bachelor’s degree in Marketing.

The hysteria began to build early in November of 2010, when Lady Gaga proclaimed to a crowd in Norway that Born This Way would be “the greatest album in a decade.”

Gaga’s celebrity friends soon began sharing their own excitement with the world. “The songs, the album, the videos are gonna change culture. It’s gonna save lives, and it’s gonna get people dancing,” proclaimed loudmouth celebrity gossip blogger, Perez Hilton, while Elton John referenced “Born This Way” as “the anthem that’s going to obliterate ‘I Will Survive’.”

The sheer hype became so inflated to quickly that “the album of a generation” was quickly demoted to a term of mockery for Born This Way, damning the album before it even existed.

Word-of-mouth aside, the Born This Way era has resulted in the greatest marketing push in over a decade–or perhaps ever. Promotional posters have been splashed and glued across billboards, subways–even entire buildings.

The album is also defying traditional CD distribution, with over 2 million copies reportedly pressed and sent out to retailers, including ‘non-traditional outlets’ including coffee shops, pharmacies and clothing stores (as well as a brief one-day opening sale at AmazonMP3, in which the entire album is available for just $0.99.)

Tie-ins continue to pour in from major name sponsorships including Polaroid, Gilt Group and Belvedere Vodka (all sponsoring the nationwide album launch club party, the Born This Way Haus Party) and Zynga–resulting in the creation of GagaVille–a Gaga-themed Farmville expansion that caused an explosion of diamonds, motorcycle-riding sheep and purple-maned ponies to run amok on Facebook feeds nationwide.

Without even beginning to address the HBO special (“The Monster Ball Live”), a high-profile appearance on American Idol and a mind-numbing amount of magazine covers and live performances over the month of May, it’s no exaggeration to conclude simply that Lady Gaga has effectively taken over the world.

Yet almost none of this, of course, speaks to the most important part of the album: The music.

Packed with 14 hard-hitting dark club cuts and joyous empowerment anthems inspired by the arena rock of the 1970′s, the twinkling synth-pop of the ’80′s, the pulsations of early ’90′s House and the bubbling-under social turmoil at the root of ballroom/vogue, Born This Way is a hodgepodge of musical influences and attitudes.

While comparisons are already a tired thing in the short history of the Gaga, there’s simply no escape in doing so while listening to Born This Way, a concoction that leaves the recipe book lying wide open on the counter: Whitney Houston makes a joyous appearance on the album opener, “Marry The Night.” “The Edge of Glory” is the arena anthem Bruce Springsteen meant to write, and “You & I” is the 4 A.M. last call piano bar ballad Elton John forgot to lay to record. Kylie Minogue briefly dances across “Electric Chapel,” David Bowie‘s space-pop invades “Bloody Mary,” and of course, Madonna is tucked away between the seams at every opportunity–from the spoken word of “Scheiße” to the all-too-close-for-comfort “Express Yourself” misfire, “Born This Way.”

And yet, Born This Way is still (mostly) its own beast. Take “Americano,” an erratic, thoroughly Gaga-ian moment that plays like a marching band of mariachi players bursting into a gay bar where a production of West Side Story is already underway.

Sonically speaking, Born This Way is leaps and bounds ahead of its tinny 2008 predecessor, The Fame. Booming, sledge-hammering beats pump into the speakers at all times, besting the iPod-ready GarageBand quality of Space Cowboy‘s limited mixing skills.

Song construction has also evolved for Gaga: The verse-chorus, verse-chorus fluidity of Gaga’s perfectly symmetric pop confections from the past three years aren’t always as apparent on Born This Way. Take “Government Hooker,” an unhinged collection of operatic nonsense, hellish yelps and taunting giggle fits.

But just as Gaga’s own self-created myth is so often riddled with hypocrisies, so too is the album.

“If you’re a strong female, you don’t need permission,” Gaga proclaims during “Scheiße,” a runway-styled female empowerment anthem. And yet, the strength remains inconsistent. “I’ll be your anything, I’ll be your everything / Just touch me, baby!” Gaga pleads above the militant dance floor stomp of “Government Hooker,” offering to wash her man’s feet with her own hair minutes later during the album’s ode to codependency, “Judas.” The empowered woman/“I’m not a feminist” hero/victim conflict is a deeply rooted issue in the Gaga complex–something that still hasn’t quite sorted itself out in her music.

There’s also the sheer hypocrisy of “Hair,” in which Gaga breathlessly espouses the notion of hair as identity: “I don’t wanna change, and I don’t wanna be ashamed / I’m the spirit of my Hair, it’s all the glory that I bare,” a sentiment which would be slightly more effective had the entertainer not been wearing brightly colored, gravity-defying synthetic wigs and extensions for the past three years of her life.

And if consistency isn’t always the issue with the lyricism of Born This Way, it’s the ham-fisted attempts to bring higher meaning with its embarrassingly literal lyrics about freedom and freakdom.

Much like Gaga’s live performances or fashion sense, there’s no subtlety whatsoever in what Gaga’s singing about: From “No matter gay, straight or bi, lesbian, transgendered life” (“Born This Way”) to “I’m a nerd / I chew gum and smoke in your face, I’m absurd / I’m so bad and I don’t give a damn, I love it when you’re mad” (“Bad Kids”) Gaga’s obvious attempts to connect with (or, if we’re being cynical, cash in on) the disenfranchised are about as obvious as a self-help pamphlet lying in a doctor’s office. There’s simply no nuance.

Still, not all of the anthems are mired in their own righteousness: “The Edge of Glory,” the album’s closing moment, doubles as one of the album’s strongest offerings. The tribute to Gaga’s grandfather is a glorious Springsteen-ian triumph, including a soaring chorus (“I’m on the edge of glory, And I’m hanging on a moment of truth / Out on the edge of glory, And I’m hanging on a moment with you!”) and a gleefully unexpected saxophone break by the legendary E Street Band player, Clarence Clemons. (That the song managed to instantly debut at #1 in 14 countries upon release to iTunes is a testament to the song’s quality.)

“Highway Unicorn (Road To Love),” a track which truly had everything working against it from the title alone, happens to be one of the more effortlessly ‘cool’ songs on the record, both musically and lyrically. “Run, run with the top down / Baby, she flies…” Gaga snarls above the driving beat, pulsing like a motorcycle engine. “They don’t care if your papers or your love is the law / She’s a free soul, burning roads with the flag in her bra,” she later sings. It’s one of Gaga’s more convincingly bad-ass moments–which makes the song title all the more delightfully ridiculous.

But the moments that shine brightest on Born This Way are the ones where Gaga steps down from the pulpit and concentrates on crafting dark pop rather than ‘freeing’ the youth of America with her oft-inconsistent anthems.

As she’s shown in the past (“Dance In The Dark,” “Bad Romance”), Gaga shines brightest when she brings her darkest to the dance floor. “Scheiße” and “Government Hooker,” two of the album’s greatest highlights, rely on whispered coos and militant rhythms to weave their tales of lust and love. Both the ballroom/’90′s House beats of “Scheiße” and the industrial electro-beats of “Government Hooker” effectively toe the line between a low budget ’90′s German porn and a modern runway accompaniment. “I don’t speak German, but I can if you’d like,” Gaga nonsensically offers throughout “Scheiße.”

“Bloody Mary,” another major album moment, plays like a spacier, slightly more pretentious version of Gaga’s underrated Fame Monster haunt, “So Happy I Could Die.” “We are not just art for Michelangelo to carve/ He can’t rewrite the aggro of my furied heart,” Gaga weirdly warbles above the hellish merry-go-round beat before breaking into a blood curling shriek seconds later.

Elsewhere, Gaga takes Born This Way to new levels of pop-dom on cuts like the jagged “Electric Chapel” and “Heavy Metal Lover,” a deliciously unexpected moment (and personal favorite) filled with luscious, grinding synthesizers and filthy come-ons which plays like the X-rated sequel to Sophie Ellis-Bextor‘s “Lover.” “I want your whiskey mouth all over my blonde south,” Gaga purrs as the song’s grinding beat churns along.

To enjoy Born This Way is to leave your expectations at the door of the electric chapel.

Gone are the days of the blonde hair bows and disco sticks; of love-sick pop-crack tunes and disco ditties. Gaga is hardened now. There’s an electro-rock edge chiseled into Born This Way. The songs are more aggressive and less accessible than anything she’s ever recorded.

Not to say, however, that the sound will be embraced by all of her fans: For an artist who debuted in a bubble dress and commanded us to “Just Dance” only three years ago, it’s not entirely surprising to find that the rock ‘n’ roll schmaltz of songs like “You and I” and “Hair” aren’t exactly going to bring all the Little Monsters to the (grave)yard.

But to surrender to Gaga’s whiskey-soaked, religious iconography-drenched paradise of ceaseless references to past musical legends is a rewarding experience when given the chance.

By the end of the album–despite all of its many lyrical shortcomings, the ballsy claims she’s spewed while promoting this record (‘Alexander McQueen wrote ‘Born This Way’ from Heaven!’), and most of all, the overwhelming HYPE–Gaga has managed to craft one of the stronger offerings of the year thus far.

So, is Born The Way the album of a generation? In terms of hype, perhaps, but in terms of quality? No. That distinction might be better awarded to another young crooner at the top of the charts this year with a far more timeless offering: Adele.

But in this moment, in this year, Gaga has crafted a gorgeously Avant Gaga-gone-mainstream record. Born This Way is a winning piece of work, endlessly jubilant and increasingly infectious, and one that ultimately proves convincing enough to allow a song called “Highway Unicorn (Road to Love)” to be played with stone-cold seriousness.

Born This Way was released on May 23. (iTunes)

Kitsuné, seminal purveyors of fashionable dance music, are out with their latest collection of well-curated indie pop cuts this week. Here are some reasons why this is a good thing:

1. Although most Kitsuné compilations skew heavily toward the indie dance spectrum, this one is actually “indie dance” themed. This means that it’s indier and dancier than ever.

2. Alexander Dexter-Jones has a song called “Phantastic Phone Call.” Alexander Dexter-Jones is the half-brother of Mark Ronson, which means that great music is in his genes; he is also a sibling of designer Charlotte Ronson, which means that fashion* is also in his genes.

3. Two of the artists featured are Swedish — first, the ever-lovely Icona Pop, who team up with Logo X on the punchy “Luvsick,” and The Touch, whose track “Sermon” is a masterpiece of weird tribal minimalism, evoking The xx at their very best. Kitsuné founder Gildas explains: “The track’s about an oxygen-less civilisation that’s about to collapse.” (I don’t want to put the cart before the horse, but this is the second-best song about not having any air that I’ve ever heard, bested only by “No Air” by Jordin Sparks.)

If you put this on at a party, it is very likely that all of your mean hipster friends will begin to dance — not because they want to, but because they just can’t help themselves.

And that’s about all you need to know.

*PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS IS A VERY FASHIONABLE COLLECTION.

Want to win your own copy of the collection?

MuuMuse is proud to be giving away
5 copies of Kitsuné Maison Compilation 11.

To enter to win, send an email to muumuse@gmail.com with the subject line “KITSUNE.”

Five winners will be randomly selected and notified on Thursday, May 26. Good luck!

Kitsuné Maison Compilation 11 was released on May 16. (iTunes)