Audio Files

Dial-a-diva

By JEFFREY S. SOLOCHEK, GINA VIVINETTO, BRIAN ORLOFF and HELEN A.S. POPKIN
© St. Petersburg Times
published January 12, 2003

No, you're not imagining it. In pop music, it's the season of the diva. So many of our beloved, big-headed, big-voiced female favorites are releasing albums, you can find a diva in any genre: country, soul, pop, even teen punk Kelly Osbourne. Divas, divas, everywhere!

SHANIA TWAIN, UP! (MERCURY NASHVILLE) In Ka-Ching!, the 12th track on this hot singer's new disc, Shania Twain bemoans society's greed: "We live in a greedy little world/that teaches every little boy and girl/to earn as much as they can possibly/then turn around and spend it foolishly."

Yet for some reason, Shania expects folks to shell out good money for her latest piece of junk (which, it must be noted, has topped the charts). It's overproduced times two; that's two discs of the same songs, with the only difference being that one relies on synthesized instruments and the other favors slide guitars and fiddles.

The lyrics are pedestrian, juvenile rhymes that often contradict themselves from song to song. In She's Not Just a Pretty Face and the tune that follows, Juanita, Shania warbles about how a girl can be anything ("Oh, la, la, la/She flies an airplane/She drives a subway train/At night she pumps gasoline/She's on the council, she's on the board/She's a politician, she praises the Lord"). Women should not let their voices be taken away, she asserts.

Yet on Waiter! Bring Me Water! and I'm Jealous, it seems that Shania's true view is that a woman is only as strong as the man paying attention to her.

The kicker, though, is the ode to imperfection What a Way to Wanna Be! She sings about how no body is perfect and what a waste it is to "Exfoliate -- look great!/Feel guilty about what you ate."

But hey, isn't that Shania looking trim, fit and sexy in white on the CD cover, inside the liner notes and on the posters advertising the record? D.

-- JEFFREY S. SOLOCHEK, Times staff

WHITNEY HOUSTON, JUST WHITNEY (ARISTA) Remember when Whitney Houston was more famous for her sumptuous voice than her canceled concerts, alleged drug problems and reed-thin body? Once one of the most successful artists of the 1980s and 1990s, Mrs. Bobby Brown has seen her share of controversy in the past several years.

Just Whitney, Houston's first album in four years, finds the singer trying to prove she's still all that, as a talent and a woman. It's a desperate-sounding album from a performer who knows her career is taking a nosedive.

Much of the material is a callback to the good old days of peppy dance numbers and slow jams. But there's real anger on this disc. Whatchulookinat is Houston's potshot at the media. Seems like every wacko star from Michael Jackson to Eminem must jab at reporters for reporting just how nutty these celebrities are. Houston's tune is peppy, with vitriol and the requisite third-person megalomania: "The same spotlight that brought me fame/Tryin' to dirty up Whitney's name."

My Love, Houston's duet with hubby Brown, is the sort of over-the-top sentiment you get from couples who surely are not solid. What are these two trying to prove? They're like the unhappily married duo in your circle who load their mantel and walls with snapshots of themselves together when you know they're miserable.

Houston spends a lot of energy on Just Whitney letting us know she's not merely okay, she's tough, and she's back. But Just Whitney is an unsteady scramble. Why would Houston's handlers allow her to -- or, God forbid, suggest that she -- cover Debby Boone's You Light Up My Life on such a disc? Talk about a girl out of touch with her reality. C.

-- GINA VIVINETTO, Times pop music critic

MARIAH CAREY, CHARMBRACELET (ISLAND RECORDS) The last couple of years have been tough for Mariah Carey. Beside the loss of a gazillion-dollar record deal, a much publicized nervous breakdown, and a belly flop of a movie and its soundtrack album (Glitter), Carey had to deal with her father's death last year.

The treacly pop that occupies Charmbracelet won't surprise anyone. Carey's breathy diva posturing occupies much of the hour (surprise!), and the many power ballads drown in synthesized studio effects.

But give Carey props: She wrote many of the songs, and you can tell.

Test out the lyrics of opener, Through the Rain, a florid song that oscillates between being empowering and cloying: "I can make it through the rain/I can stand up once again/On my own and I know/That I'm strong enough to mend." Carey's earnest, but she hides behind sentimentality.

I Only Wanted fares a little better with its Spanish-styled guitar. A punchy cover of Def Leppard's Bringin' On the Heartbreak scores points for fun novelty. Carey's elegy to dad, Sunflowers for Alfred Roy, is a lovely tribute but still not enough to redeem this snoozefest. C-.

-- BRIAN ORLOFF, Times correspondent

TONI BRAXTON, MORE THAN A WOMAN (ARISTA) Toni Braxton has a fantastic voice. So sultry and smooth, it can blow you away on heartfelt ballads and steamy soul. Un-break My Heart, which won her a Grammy, still does it every time.

On her latest release, though, Braxton does not play to her strength enough. She allows synthesized drum beats and what are supposed to be backup singers to dominate too many of the dozen songs. She has called it her exploration of hip-hop and rock, a reinvention of sorts aimed at keeping her on the charts.

But her vocals seem light and airy, rather than powerful and moving, as she attempts to find a new groove. Only on a handful of tunes, including A Better Man and And I Love You, does Braxton show she still has it. The rest is undistinguished R&B that anyone could have made. Wait for the greatest hits CD. C.

-- J.S.

KELLY OSBOURNE, SHUT UP (EPIC/Sony) Unlike other marketing creations -- your Britneys, Christinas or Justins -- Kelly Osbourne wasn't genetically engineered on Disney's Orlando back lots. Granted, if her daddy wasn't Ozzy and MTV's The Osbournes was not a hit, there would be no Shut Up. Marketing gave Kelly a career, but the foul-mouthed, smooth-dressing, heavy-metal scion is still very much her own girl.

Too bad Shut Up sounds so totally canned. Written and recorded with the best production values Epic/Sony can buy, the album shoves Ms. Spunky down in the mix. Layered vocal tracks beef up and tune Osbourne's voice (that's a trick used with lots of artists, including Spears, Courtney Love and Kelly's Pops). Guitar and drum parts boom over Kelly's singing, distracting from what nature didn't give her.

Papa Don't Preach is the most heinous example. Placed as a hidden track at the end of the CD, the Madonna remake sounds like it was recorded from the bottom of a toilet. Osbourne's original songs were co-written with Powerpack, a team of songwriting power hitters, and they stick to post-punk pop appropriately juvenile for her young audience. Articulate and angry, Osbourne isn't coming on to boys; she's telling them where to get off: "You nag, you brag, and I gag." Osbourne sings on the title track, and you can picture a billion kids jumping in their bedrooms, singing along defiantly.

Same with Coolhead, a beat-heavy 1960s style pop song worthy of the Girls in the Garage anthology. The ballad More Than Life Itself stretches the boundaries of Osbourne's vocal abilities, but the song is likely about her ailing mom, Sharon, so we'll let it slide. Despite her vocal weaknesses, Osbourne has attributes that make her a worthy role model: She's strong, smart and knows how to accessorize.

The Mouseketeer alumni sold their souls for their careers. Osbourne simply asked her dad for one.

-- HELEN A.S. POPKIN, Times correspondent

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