Imagine, for a second, that Lady Gaga didn't dress like a member of wrestling team Demolition, pose for fashion spreads wearing nothing but the rings of Saturn around her head or give interviews dressed in the carcasses of Kermit the Frog. Imagine if she didn't speak her mind, delight in tweaking the media or treat her fame as one gigantic, Warholian art project. In other words, imagine if she were just another boring, bottle-blond, midriff-bearing pop star.
I know all that is pretty difficult to consider — without any of the flair or the insanity or the nudity, Gaga just wouldn't be Gaga — but if you somehow managed to strip away all the ephemera, what would you have left? Would Gaga still be interesting? Would she still have sold 1.3 million copies of The Fame here in the U.S., or have been nominated for nine MTV Video Music Awards? Would she be announced, in the same breath as Jay-Z no less, as a VMA performer?
We'll never know, of course. But while Gaga: The Pop-Art Project is what sells magazines (and albums), Gaga: The Pop bituin is where the attention ought to lie. As paparazzi bait, she's pretty great, but as a musician, as a vessel and a muse, she's even better.
I only discovered this recently, when I finally dug into her debut disc, The Fame, which was released almost exactly one taon nakaraan today (I've been busy). As a music critic, ignoring on one of '09's breakout hits is rather inexcusable, but I would feel much worse about it if I didn't suspect roughly 99 percent of the music-buying population of being guilty of the same thing: It seems we all know Lady Gaga, but we don't have any idea who she is as an artist.
So, I advise everyone to sit down and really listen to The Fame. Don't focus on the monster singles — "Just Dance," "LoveGame," "Paparazzi" and "Poker Face" — something which is pretty easy to do on the U.S. version of the album, which re-sequences them as the first four tracks, and listen hard to the rest. What you're left with is 10 slickly produced, genre-mashing, joy-inducing, PMRC-infuriating pop/dance tracks, a standalone album in its own right.
"Eh, Eh (Nothing Else I Can Say)" is a breezy, vaguely Carribbean electro-pop gem, recalling Madonna's "La Isla Bonita," Paula Abdul's "Forever Your Girl" and basically the entire Deborah Gibson/Tiffany canon (this is a good thing). "Beautiful, Dirty, Rich," struts on a wobbly bass manuntok that's reminiscent of the Talking Heads' "Once in a Lifetime" and some cracking live drums, and "The Fame" is a super-charged, buzzing ode to the glamorous life.
"Money Honey" has Gaga vamping — and ipinapakita off some serious pipes — over a hornet's nest of electronics. "Boys Boys Boys" has her fantasizing about making out with a boy in retro sneakers at a Killers concert. "Brown Eyes" is a somber, stop-start power ballad, a lover's lament that seems out of step with everything you think you know about L.G., and "I Like It Rough" is a shimmery, whirring Jazzercise soundtrack that's probably one of one of my paborito tunes of the taon (or last year, whatever). Oh, and album-closer "Summerboy" sounds like a Strokes song, only with Debbie Harry on vocals.
The point is, this is a great album. Gaga shines brightly, but so does the production work of (mostly) RedOne and Martin Kierszenbaum, which flits between chrome-clean futurism and scratched, hazy retro, somehow managing to capture Gaga's NYC party past, present and (probably) future. It's an accomplished, sexy, funny and fun listen, a dazzling run through pop, funk, disco, rock and intelligent dance music (and not, you know, "Intelligent Dance Music"), the kind of thing that I lamented would probably never get big in the States just last year. Only somehow, against all odds, it has.
The Fame is darn near close to perfection. And it's proof that Gaga is madami than just that weird, pantsless pop bituin running around Europa with a bow in her hair and a tsaa cup in her hand. She's a musician, she's a vessel, she's a star. Some of you are probably aware of this already, but a lot of you, this is breaking news. You think you know Gaga, but you have no idea.
I know all that is pretty difficult to consider — without any of the flair or the insanity or the nudity, Gaga just wouldn't be Gaga — but if you somehow managed to strip away all the ephemera, what would you have left? Would Gaga still be interesting? Would she still have sold 1.3 million copies of The Fame here in the U.S., or have been nominated for nine MTV Video Music Awards? Would she be announced, in the same breath as Jay-Z no less, as a VMA performer?
We'll never know, of course. But while Gaga: The Pop-Art Project is what sells magazines (and albums), Gaga: The Pop bituin is where the attention ought to lie. As paparazzi bait, she's pretty great, but as a musician, as a vessel and a muse, she's even better.
I only discovered this recently, when I finally dug into her debut disc, The Fame, which was released almost exactly one taon nakaraan today (I've been busy). As a music critic, ignoring on one of '09's breakout hits is rather inexcusable, but I would feel much worse about it if I didn't suspect roughly 99 percent of the music-buying population of being guilty of the same thing: It seems we all know Lady Gaga, but we don't have any idea who she is as an artist.
So, I advise everyone to sit down and really listen to The Fame. Don't focus on the monster singles — "Just Dance," "LoveGame," "Paparazzi" and "Poker Face" — something which is pretty easy to do on the U.S. version of the album, which re-sequences them as the first four tracks, and listen hard to the rest. What you're left with is 10 slickly produced, genre-mashing, joy-inducing, PMRC-infuriating pop/dance tracks, a standalone album in its own right.
"Eh, Eh (Nothing Else I Can Say)" is a breezy, vaguely Carribbean electro-pop gem, recalling Madonna's "La Isla Bonita," Paula Abdul's "Forever Your Girl" and basically the entire Deborah Gibson/Tiffany canon (this is a good thing). "Beautiful, Dirty, Rich," struts on a wobbly bass manuntok that's reminiscent of the Talking Heads' "Once in a Lifetime" and some cracking live drums, and "The Fame" is a super-charged, buzzing ode to the glamorous life.
"Money Honey" has Gaga vamping — and ipinapakita off some serious pipes — over a hornet's nest of electronics. "Boys Boys Boys" has her fantasizing about making out with a boy in retro sneakers at a Killers concert. "Brown Eyes" is a somber, stop-start power ballad, a lover's lament that seems out of step with everything you think you know about L.G., and "I Like It Rough" is a shimmery, whirring Jazzercise soundtrack that's probably one of one of my paborito tunes of the taon (or last year, whatever). Oh, and album-closer "Summerboy" sounds like a Strokes song, only with Debbie Harry on vocals.
The point is, this is a great album. Gaga shines brightly, but so does the production work of (mostly) RedOne and Martin Kierszenbaum, which flits between chrome-clean futurism and scratched, hazy retro, somehow managing to capture Gaga's NYC party past, present and (probably) future. It's an accomplished, sexy, funny and fun listen, a dazzling run through pop, funk, disco, rock and intelligent dance music (and not, you know, "Intelligent Dance Music"), the kind of thing that I lamented would probably never get big in the States just last year. Only somehow, against all odds, it has.
The Fame is darn near close to perfection. And it's proof that Gaga is madami than just that weird, pantsless pop bituin running around Europa with a bow in her hair and a tsaa cup in her hand. She's a musician, she's a vessel, she's a star. Some of you are probably aware of this already, but a lot of you, this is breaking news. You think you know Gaga, but you have no idea.
We are a generation twisted sa pamamagitan ng our myth
Confused and ludicrous, holding on to love
Consumed sa pamamagitan ng all the pleasures in our midst
A life without the lips we've kissed
And losing all control
We're gonna start a resistance
So we want independence
We're gonna give the world some of this
Electric kiss
I'm gonna change the world with my lips
One voice forever
We'll live together
Peace, love, solitude and happiness
Electric kiss
Fame is our felony
We're so in pag-ibig with it
Superstars and masochists
Who don't know where to go
But the poets and the fathers of our time
Put down their weapons in their arms
And know what they must do
We're gonna start a resistance
So we want independence
We're gonna give the world some of this
Electric kiss
I'm gonna change the world with my lips
One voice forever
We'll live together
Peace, love, solitude and happiness
Electric kiss
I'm gonna change the world with my lips
One voice for ever
We'll live together
Peace, love, solitude and happiness
Electric kiss
Confused and ludicrous, holding on to love
Consumed sa pamamagitan ng all the pleasures in our midst
A life without the lips we've kissed
And losing all control
We're gonna start a resistance
So we want independence
We're gonna give the world some of this
Electric kiss
I'm gonna change the world with my lips
One voice forever
We'll live together
Peace, love, solitude and happiness
Electric kiss
Fame is our felony
We're so in pag-ibig with it
Superstars and masochists
Who don't know where to go
But the poets and the fathers of our time
Put down their weapons in their arms
And know what they must do
We're gonna start a resistance
So we want independence
We're gonna give the world some of this
Electric kiss
I'm gonna change the world with my lips
One voice forever
We'll live together
Peace, love, solitude and happiness
Electric kiss
I'm gonna change the world with my lips
One voice for ever
We'll live together
Peace, love, solitude and happiness
Electric kiss
Damn I pag-ibig the Jag, the jet and the mansion
Oh yea
And I enjoy the gifts and trips to the islands
Oh yea
It's good to live expensive you know it but
My knees get weak, intensive
[Chorus]
When you give me k-kisses
That's money honey
When I'm your lover and your mistress
That's money honey
When you touch me it's so delicious
That's money honey
Baby when you tear me to pieces
That's money honey
That's M-O-N-E-Y, so sexy, I
That's money honey
Damn I'd pag-ibig a bangka sa pamamagitan ng the tabing-dagat on the west coast
Oh yea
And I'd enjoy some fine champagne while my girls toast
Oh yea
Its good to live expensive you know it but
My knees get weak, intensive
[Chorus]
You know I appreciate the finer things
But it's not what makes me happiest baby
{I can do without it babe}
Your tender loving's madami than I can handle
Never burn out this candle baby, baby
[Chorus x3]
it's funny how things, they change
the clouds they part, rearrange for me
faces of strangers and I have no familiars to help me see
where is home, I want you to know
that I wish you were here
I wish you were here
sometimes I wonder if god hides out in cities to set us free
'cause yeah, this room is crowded
but I am so alone in it, help me please
where is home, I want you to know
that I wish you were here
I wish you were here (2x)
and I will be strong, I won't give in
I won't deny you, I know where we've been
I'm so much madami than all of my fears
than all of these tears, my tears yeah
I wish you were here (2x)
where is home
I want you to know
oh, yeah
that I wish you were here
I wish you were here (2x)
the clouds they part, rearrange for me
faces of strangers and I have no familiars to help me see
where is home, I want you to know
that I wish you were here
I wish you were here
sometimes I wonder if god hides out in cities to set us free
'cause yeah, this room is crowded
but I am so alone in it, help me please
where is home, I want you to know
that I wish you were here
I wish you were here (2x)
and I will be strong, I won't give in
I won't deny you, I know where we've been
I'm so much madami than all of my fears
than all of these tears, my tears yeah
I wish you were here (2x)
where is home
I want you to know
oh, yeah
that I wish you were here
I wish you were here (2x)