Bloody Brilliant - The Fame Monster Review

Oh GaGa, first I strived to resist her, then I enjoyed her dancefloor-ready electropop but loathed the arty pretensions. It became harder to deny her talent when the acoustic version of Pokerface became her party piece, her impressive vocals, ivory-tickling and the fact she wrote her own tunes made her a cut above the average pop tart. Then the barmy persona began to appeal in an ironic way (tea-cup notwithstanding) nice to have a popstar that's not afraid to be, well, a popstar. Stage names, grandiose statements, ridiculous costumes, you know, a bit of show! Soon, the electro-fembot living for the Fame was taking a dark turn as her image of glitz, glamour and excess was taking a deliciously macabre turn, punctuated beautifully by a blood-spattered, onstage hanging to a chorus of camera clicks at the VMAs. A monster was born and shortly afterwards The Fame Monster arrived. Sonically, it's accessible as ever and in keeping with her debut's winning electro-pop formula but represents a progression nonetheless. She outdoes her best melodies, works with a handful of new producers (while saving her best for RedOne), adds a little more depth to her infinitely danceable ditties and marries it all to an intriguing, if somewhat superfluous, monster motif.

As if to illustrate this, things kick off with Bad Romance, a pop juggernaut with all the hallmarks of a RedOne/GaGa creation but with a delightful horror twist, as Lady G slurs hungrily, 'I want your ugly, I want your disease'. You know how Pokerface is a highlight of The Fame, all towering choruses and bombastic nonsense spouted with panache? Well, Bad Romance is like its eccentric older sister who storms into Pokerface's sweet 16 birthday party and completely steals focus as all of its friends flock over to this mad but brilliant older sibling and marvel at its charisma. Monster's no slouch either, it's not as macabre or delivered with such relish as Bad Romance but its bloodthirsty lyrics combined with pure 80s froth is an irresistible combination. Elsewhere, Teeth invites you to take a bite of GaGa's 'bad girl meat' and as such is mad as a bus stop and, while somewhat unwieldy, its marching band beat and general S&M-flavoured battiness keep you hooked till the end, even if it doesn't quite work as a closer. But it's not all about bloodlust, Alejandro is sublime, sun-kissed, melodic gorgeousness, with heavenly Ace of Base-style undulating beats. A touch darker is Dance in the Dark, a spine-tingling ode to wronged women with a unavoidably massive chorus. Telephone, the most out and out dance track on here, sees about 50 hooks whiz by your ears through its three and half minute runtime with a show-stealing turn from a thoroughly Sasha Fierce-ified Beyonce and one of those effortless hooks where GaGa threatens to hum Agadoo and your powerless to anything other than eat it up with glee and dance.

At eight tracks long it's fairly fat-free with the pace rarely letting up. So Happy I Could Die is some what poorly-titled, So Nonplussed I Could Deliver a serviceable Mid-Tempo that Never Delivers The Massive Chorus it Hints At would be more appropriate but once you've accepted that it's not another club ready stomper, it's self-loving, sparkly yet sedate lilt has a certain charm. And standing out from all of this oh-so-electronic, danceable lushness is Speechless, also known as GaGa's best ballad. It's raw, poignant, heartfelt and unabashedly harkens back to the big piano ballads of the 80s while remaining anchored by the touching yet pained message at its core. It's a completely unexpected highlight that isn't done justice plonked in the middle of the tracklist. All things considered, it's about a mile of hair extensions better than Again, Again or Brown Eyes with it's genuinely emotional, alcohol-stained lyrics and Gaga's ballsy but vulnerable delivery.

Where she was once bluffin' with her muffin', asking boys to buy her eggs in the morning and getting her ass squeezed by sexy cupid she's now name-checking tragic women in history, calling out to her Dad to put the bottle down and referencing Hitchock by way of inviting her bad boy lover to show the her his darkest side. Which, in GaGa terms, represent a little more lyrical depth. All of this wrapped up in superb productions, irresistible melodies and confident vocals. So for as long as this iteration of Gaga lasts (re-invention surely can't be far off), this is a winning expansion of the fame era and proves beyond doubt that Pokerface was no fluke. At the start of 2009 she was hailed as one to watch and the exciting thing is, we've already seen so much and yet she's still very much worth keeping an eye on..