if… IF I were to blinkk this I would probably say…
because if ifs and ands were pots and pans there’d be no betta work for tinker’s hands, because pink wigs birthed millennial whiplash, because it’s the rhyme behind seasonal reason, because you’re not B and will never see it her way… because Britney didn’t have Twitter in 2007, because the traphaus was birthed in the wake of Kevin, because Miss Spears will remain the bad bxxch you’ll never know, because they shouldn’t have let her blackout the ‘net #work: nouveau decided to put on a show #luckystarswipgolden
August 16, 2010
The actively perpetuated juxtapostions within the album are so comprehensive, it is uncanny; and it is the master product of Britney at her most core self – when she was too repose to worry about reputation, too vanguard to care about vanity, and too spun to care about spin.
The anthem of all anthems, the apocalyptic capstone:
“Hot As Ice.”
In the midst of apparent peak mania, Spears gave her sonic state of the union in the coolest of tones – and she was so sincere. Britney Spears B(etsy-R)ossed-up, and weaved an American tale as an individual talking to any American, and as the iconography talking to her makers. She recaps how we got here: I’m just a girl with the ability to drive a man crazy – but it feels alright – make him call me mama, make him my new baby – just one more time.
As she nonchalantly reminds us of her past glories, so she implies that our intellect is as contagious as her insanity – and we were the company she kept in the closest quarters. She deliberately reinforces her influence and impact, that even after she’s blacked out, it was because she was a supernova first: New and improved, I’m saying thank you very much: living legend – you can look but don’t touch.
Continue reading LFR&B: Britney Spears – “Hot As Ice” (DanjaDay Remix)
2007 climaxed the greatest American tale since The Civil War, and Britney Spears’ Blackout was our living soundtrack. Just as Spears was our blue-eyed child of misfortune, Blackout is the requiem of our American Dream. Britney was an ideal created in our own image. Our image, our perception of our self worth, in the past decade was dependent upon fame and false status. Then, more than ever, our identities were aligned with iconographies: Britney was our Miss American Dream, and in 2007 we saw her strip away her white gown.
At our darkest hour, our brightest supernova wanted nothing more than to go that extra mile for us. We created a monster mistress, a pop iconography reflecting our wildest and greatest desires – embodying our most visceral conquests. She was the broken kingdom, and on behalf of her mortal peers she sacrificed herself for our entertainment. She was our gladiator; our samurai on a kamikaze mission to kill that very system which produced her. Even with her back against the wall she was our central focus; how something so perfect could be so not – and how such reckless power could destroy our most divine wind. We watched her spiral through insanity, as cameras flashed her dancing deliriously to music only she could hear. Even though we led her to this position of mania, she gave us permission to send her on a suicide mission: before the flashing lights, she was to touch the sky, and nosedive in a sacrificial spectacle fit for a fallen empire. She gave more when she had nothing to give – because we asked for it; because the same guys who told us that she was the most valuable dream, told her that her value relied on our affirmation – she Merrill Lynched our Pop selves. Her punishment was her penance, and as much hers as it is ours. The opening is the standing reminder that even after she fades, the irremovable, unstoppable, perpetuating danja remains.
Continue reading Unforgettable, Vol. 19: Britney Spears – Blackout