Pop Confessional f/ Taylor Swift, Charli XCX, Pitbull & More

"The fairest, easiest knock and observation is that Iggy Azalea strains to sound like a black woman from Atlanta; when, in fact, she raps like Pitbull."

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Complex Original

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It’s (now a day after) Thanksgiving, I’m back home, on my mother’s couch, we’re watching The View, on which Rosie and Whoopi's holiday guest is Taylor Swift. The "Shake It Off" singer is everywhere these days, promoting her mega-selling country-to-pop crossover album, 1989, and chatting about her kittens, New York bodegas, and Lena Dunham, a.k.a., Everything White People Like. 

Earlier the same morning, the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade was a literal parade of the latest in pop fashion. Meghan Trainor sang that song about (b)ass. Several white men rapped. Tony Danza sang. Distressing. I suppose the Macy’s parade is no longer the A-list billing that I remember it being when I was a child, but of course Manhattan's gone to shit now that new Marxist mayor DeBlasio's got the city on coco bread rations and a Five-Year Plan.

Pitbull back. Tay-Tay is killing the game. Charli XCX is here to save you all.

Taylor Swift, 1989

Homegirl blacked out SoundScan like it was a Wal-Mart at 4 a.m. on the final Friday of November. First-week sales of Swift's 1989: 1.3 million. Sales-to-date: more than 1.6 million units worldwide. Not to mention that 1989 marks the impressive, canny transformation of country music's All-American niece into a global pop Goliath. “Shake It Off” may be A Stupid Disposable Pop Song about haterz and teen self-esteem, but those saxophones, tho. On “Blank Space,” a bit of Swift’s voice sounds rather like Heath Ledger’s Joker when she sings, “Love’s a game: wanna play?” Do not doubt this woman’s depth or capacity for emotional growth, however pop she may be.

Miley Cyrus could’ve gone this route. She could’ve gone platinum in a week. She could’ve had everything. She could’ve been a contender. 

Ariana Grande, “Santa Tell Me”

Big Sean is Santa Claus. (I think?) Presumably, “Santa Tell Me” is a haggard lover’s plea for sex in a snow globe; or else it’s just a standard Christmas ditty, and I’ve got issues in the Freudian sense. “I’ve been down this road before: Fell in love on Christmas night/But on New Year’s Day I woke up, and he wasn’t by my side.” Read between the lines, people. Santa’s a cad. Love is dead. Ariana Grande is Mariah Carey. (I think?)

Charli XCX, “Gold Coins”

If da brat rock gawd drops her album by year’s end, I’m shutting down the studio and sending the rest of you motherfuckers to the Junior’s on Flatbush. “Gold Coins” is a promising gesture; not as big as "Boom Clap" or as ubiquitous as "Fancy," but Charli's punk drawl paired with electric guitar steez befitting a college gymnasium is a winner in my heart and yours. Where Lorde’s “Royals” offers smarm, “Gold Coins” is true sass: “My grills are so neat; drip icy cold/ Got offshore bank accounts and diamond-blue palm trees.” Charli XCX is outchea eating Gwen Stefani’s lunch. I’ve got no complaints.

Iggy Azalea, Reclassified

Iggy “re-released” her debut album, which flopped before “Fancy” blew up. Island Records' re-up of "The New Classic" has of course inspired a fresh round of “Iggy Azalea is white/trash” thinkpieces and “album reviews” that I preemptively regret reading. Jesus be an adblocker.

Given the occasion, however, I’ll do us all the favor of "reclassifying" Iggy Azalea as pop. It's easier that way. Easier to concede, for instance, that “Iggy SZN” is top-notch pop-rapping that’s hardly worth all the shade we give this woman. FACT: “Fancy” is flames. FACT: “Work” is as autobiographical as Iggy’s critics claim/pretend to want her to be: “No money, no family; 16 in the middle of Miami.” 

The fairest, easiest knock and observation is that Iggy Azalea strains to sound like a black woman from Atlanta; when, in fact, she raps rather like Pitbull. Speaking of whom: 

Pitbull, Globalization

Last night, Pitbull and Ne-Yo performed “Give Me Everything” together at Eagles-Cowboys halftime, which happily coincided with the promo run for Pitbull’s latest album, Globalization. Pitbull’s previous albums aren’t all as craven and castrated as his overall brand, but “Globalization” is in fact his tamest, most gutted album yet. The Miami pug tries his hand at travel agency on “Sexy Beaches,” with its bizarre salesman’s hook: “Sexy beaches! Hotels!” Pitbull brags about performing at a Microsoft staff conference on “Fun,” which features Chris Brown, who may as well be Ne-Yo, who’s instead featured on “Time of Our Lives." "Ah Leke" promises Sean Paul, but I can barely hear him, as his vocals are smothered by Miami bass and Pitbull's ribbits and hollering.

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