What a way to make a living

With just over a week to go until its release, Lady Gaga is pulling out all the stops to ensure that everyone knows that her new album is almost here. Given the speed at which she attained world-wide fame, there's a considerable weight of expectation resting on her curiously attired shoulders. Since she's been talking it up for the last 12 months, anything less than the musical equivalent of Christ's second coming will be considered a disappointment.

Meanwhile, the obsessive Madonna fans who continually accuse Gaga of ripping off their icon, will be sharpening their bras ready for all-out war. But in this game of pointy tit-for-tat, one key fact has been overlooked. Gaga may well owe Madonna a considerable debt, but there's another blonde music legend who can surely take some of the credit for influencing the self-proclaimed Mother Monster's career. Dolly Parton, take a bow - just remember to bend with the knees.

The two stars actually crossed paths back in February at the 53rd Annual Grammy Awards, where Dolly was finally receiving a Lifetime Achievement Award in recognition of her five decade-long career as a singer, songwriter, actress, author, philanthropist and wig seller. Of course, Gaga managed to steal all the limelight by turning up in a giant yellow plastic egg, like the world's most self-involved Kinder Surprise.

Since releasing her first single back in 1965, Dolly has steadily grown into one of the world's most recognisable recording artists - the country singer it's OK to like. It helps that she's got a back catalogue of mucic that's testament to her incredible talent, not to mention a self-deprecating wit and larger-than-life persona that invites audiences to laugh with, rather than at her.

And then there's that image of hers. Like a Rubenesque beauty sculpted in Anchor squirty cream. She's always been unflinchingly honest about her tacky glamour (inspired as a child by the local hooker in her hometown of Sevierville) and her enthusiasm for plastic surgery. As she sings in her recent autobiographical song 'Backwoods Barbie', "I might look artificial, but where it counts I'm real." She's been through more faces than Lon Chaney, and at times her eyebrows almost appear to levitate above her head, like Penfold getting a nasty surprise. But she's always unmistakably Dolly, slathered in more make-up than Ronald McDonald's pillow case.

Gaga, on the other hand, has to resort to increasingly outlandish displays - not everyone can carry off an outfit inspired by Jim Henson's recurring nightmares of a muppet mass grave. However, one thing both artists share is a belief in the importance of appearances. You'll never see either of them getting papped putting out the bins in a pair of pizza-stained sweatpants.

Lady Gaga gets a lot of credit for being an accomplished pianist, but her musicality has nothing on Dolly who plays guitar, banjo, autoharp, piano, dulcimer and drums. In fact, if it weren't for a couple of prominent obstructions, she could probably take to the stage as a one-woman band. And despite never learning to read or write music, she's composed over 5,000 songs, many of which are considered classics in both the country and pop genres.

Everyone knows her most successful song is 'I Will Always Love You' - butchered in the early nineties by Whitney Houston, who wouldn't know subtlety if it surreptitiously tapped her on the shoulder. Not only did Whitney over sing the life out of the song, she also completely missed its meaning. If you've never heard Dolly's original, give it a listen and marvel at the definitive passive-aggressive love song - "If I should stay, I would only be in your way... so goodbye, Oh please, don't cry, we both know I'm not what you need." Now that's a bad romance.

There's no denying that Lady Gaga is happy to use her international celebrity as a platform to advocate for gay rights, an issue she clearly feels passionate about. Again, the critics who argue that Madonna did it first overlook the fact that Dolly has long been an outspoken enthusiast for equality. Asked about how she reconciles her devout religious faith with her healthy gay fan base, Dolly once said "God and I have a great relationship, but we both see other people." Sometimes, a little wit is more powerful than political grandstanding.

And several years before Gaga's 'gay anthem' was released, Dolly wrote and recorded 'Travelin' Thru', the Oscar-nominated theme song from TransAmerica. Coming from a sector of the music industry not known for its progressive world-view, it took incredible courage on Dolly's part to sing from the perspective of a pre-operative transsexual: "I'm out here on my journey, trying to make the most of it. I'm a puzzle, I must figure out where all my pieces fit..." Likewise, consider the line "God made me for a reason, and nothing is in vain". What she's saying is, "I was Born This Way baby, but what's a little remodelling between friends?"

Dolly's list of accomplishments is too long to list here. But it's worth also mentioning her Dixie Stampede restaurant chain and the Imagination Library - a book donation fund established in 1996. The scheme has now grown into one of the world's largest book gifting programmes, distributing over 30 million books worldwide since its inception. Plus, of course, there's Dollywood, the theme park in her home county which provides employment for over 3,000 people. As well as countless folksy diversions, the park also has a credible range of thrill rides. Although as yet, there are no plans for an Appalachian log flume that culminates in a brutal gang rape at the hands of a bunch of inbred locals.

At the grand old age of 65, Dolly is showing no signs of slowing down, with a European tour and a new album in the works. If Gaga wants longevity from her career, she could do far worse than modelling her approach on the country grand-dame. When I first met Dolly eight years ago, I'm afraid I got a little gushy, admitting that I'd loved her since I was a child. Grasping my hand in hers, she looked up and in that distinctive southern trill, said "Oh honey, don't stop now." I hope Gaga takes the same advice.

Baby got back (and front)

When dancer and actress Claudia Aderotimi died two months ago, she inadvertently reignited the debate about the portrayal of women in R&B and hip hop videos. She'd travelled to the US in search of bargain basement plastic surgery and ultimately got her wish. Not to mention an arse full of the kind of industrial grade silicon a window fitter might use to seal around a set of patio doors.

The tabloid response was predictably apoplectic. But they seemed less concerned with the tragic death of a 22 year-old, than they were with pinning the blame on an increasingly sexualised music genre. In covering the story, they quoted Claudia's associates verbatim, printing comments like "The problem was she didn't have no butt, and she wanted a butt. She went to audition for one video shoot wearing fake booty pants and she got all the attention. But when they found out it was fake she didn't get asked back." I don't know about you, but seeing words like 'booty' in the Daily Mail is a little like hearing your Grandma talk about felching. Much like the act itself, it just leaves an unpleasant taste in your mouth.

Concerns about the sexualisation of popular music are as old as the music itself. It's just that in the 1950s people were getting all worked up about the man from Memphis and his over-expressive pelvis. These days, they're more concerned with the endless parade of barely dressed women in urban music videos, strutting around in heels so sharp they should be surrendered in the next weapons amnesty. The girls in question aren't so much treated as sex objects, as items of occasional furniture - "Don't bother with a bra, just grab a couple of coasters so I've got somewhere to set down my bottle of Hennessy."

According to the foaming-at-the-mouth columnists, our kiddies are now foaming-at-the-crotch, thanks to the music videos that occasionally squeeze into the TV schedule, in-between back-to-back screenings of Jersey Shore or My Super Sweet 16. But although these commentators purport to be condemning the objectification of women, it's still the girls who bear the brunt. Sadly, there's still a gender double standard at play, one that apes the old sluts vs studs paradox that has dogged sexually independent women for decades.

It's bad enough that some women allow themselves to be exploited in order to showcase the extraordinary virility of male hip hop stars. But the real crime is committed by the female music artists who express themselves in similar terms. In the last twelve months, everyone from Shakira and Beyonce to Lady Gaga and Nicki Minaj have been attacked for their overt sexuality and suggestive iconography - even though they're fully in control of their own image.

Unfortunately, all those arguments about post-feminism, gender identity and self-expression fly out of the window like a philandering boyfriend's wardrobe, when applied to the new video by rising star Lady. Displaying more arse cheeks than a proctology convention, this three and half minute masterpiece shows off a bevy of curvalicious hotties, all fresh from the midweek lunchtime line-up of your local strip club. They try on shoes, they drink blue pop from champagne flutes, and show off g-strings pulled high enough to give them a centre-parting.

And in the eye of this perfect storm, our magnificent heroine - a woman so confident in the potency of her own libido, that she feels compelled to warn the world that "this pussy be yankin'". Thankfully, we have Urban Dictionary on hand to explain that this means she's experiencing an "exceptional level of excitement and enjoyment." But then, why wouldn't she be excited? Especially since it looks as though her mates have splashed out on four bags of Cheetos for their big girls' night in. 

If you've ever watched an old Jerry Springer episode and wished one of those screeching women would put down a chair and pick up a lyric sheet, you're in luck. To paraphrase the jewel of Rochdale, Lisa Stansfield, Lady may not be a lady, but she's all woman. And that's enough to make anyone start yankin'. 

Black Friday

A few years ago, a friend of mine was planning his daughter's seventh birthday party. He asked everyone in the office if they had any music he could borrow that would keep ten sugar-infused preteens amused for a couple of hours. He didn't admit it at the time, but I know deep down that I was the only person in our team likely to have the kind of music he had in mind.

So I brought in a variety of CDs, carefully chosen to suit the limited, but oh-so-specific needs of his demanding audience. The party was a big hit, and in the months that followed, whenever I got some new music, I'd make a copy for my friend's daughter.

About a year later, I came back from one of my lunch-hour record store trips, excitedly clutching a brown paper bag full of wonderment. As I rattled through the various titles with my friend, I asked if I should burn some disks for him to take home. He looked at me with an expression that blended pity with embarrassment, and said "Thanks, but, er, Abby's kind of grown out of that stuff now." She was eight.

At that point, I had to make peace with the fact that much of my music collection was going to go unappreciated by my friends, peers and contemporaries. My shared playlists on iTunes and Spotify may be a constant source of mockery, but I wear my pop preferences with pride.

I know that good pop music is just as worthy of my time as anything that features a three-minute guitar solo. And just because someone writes their own songs, it doesn't automatically qualify them as worthy of my time. Artists like Pet Shop Boys, Madonna and Lady Gaga have proved that popularity and credibility aren't mutually exclusive concepts.

Unfortunately, because great artists make pop look so easy, everyone seems to think that it is. Find a pretty girl, cobble together a few lyrics about partying, crank the autotune up to 11 and laugh all the way to the bank.

Which is the only logical explanation for the existence of 'Friday' by Rebecca Black. The latest 'discovery' by the musically moribund Ark Music Factory, Rebecca's debut single manages to get everything wrong. And leaves you wishing you'd been born profoundly deaf.

Cynical, tuneless and inane to the point of surrealism, Rebecca's would-be party anthem promises "fun fun fun" but is about as carefree and enjoyable as watching a kitten drown. As she pumps her fists in the air from the backseat of her friend's convertible, the impending weekend she's singing about seems less appealing than a nuclear winter. And then there's that voice. Imagine the guys who 'Autotune The News' getting Stephen Hawking to read out the Tweets of a 13 year-old girl.

Universally recognised as one of the finest pop songs of all time, ABBA's 'The Day Before You Came' sees Agnetha sorrowfully recalling the tedium of her daily life prior to her lover's arrival in her life. Perhaps that's the sense of stultifying ennui that the writers at Ark were trying to convey when they wrote:

"Seven a.m., waking up in the morning

Gotta be fresh, gotta go downstairs

Gotta have my bowl, gotta have cereal

Seein’ everything, the time is goin’

Tickin’ on and on, everybody’s rushin’

Gotta get down to the bus stop

Gotta catch my bus, I see my friends (My friends)

Kickin’ in the front seat

Sittin’ in the back seat

Gotta make my mind up

Which seat can I take?"

Hopefully the one without an airbag. 

If any good can possibly come of this aural travesty, it's the fact that weekends will now forever be tainted by memories of Rebecca Black. As I write this on a Sunday evening, the week ahead suddenly doesn't seem quite so bad. 

Green eyed monster

Authenticity is a rare beast in the world of pop music. Sometimes, it's young pop tarts trying to maintain their virginal image whilst grinding suggestively in a way that would make Elizabeth Berkeley blush. Alternatively, it's kids who've spent a few years in the Brits academy, only to emerge with an R&B swagger straight out of South Central Camberley.

The latest graduate from the school of hard rocks is Jessie J, a one-time West End child prodigy who's now topping the charts singing about the "ka-ching ka-ching, b-bling, b-bling". Having written hits for singers like Rihanna, Justin Timberlake, Christina Aguilera and Miley Cyrus, she's clearly got a decent pop pedigree, but even she finds it hard to figure out what kind of recording artist she wants to be.

With her star firmly in the ascendent, she's been comparing herself to a number of her contemporaries and finding that she's coming up short. Although she's confident in her musical ability, she's concerned that she doesn't have the cover girl image of stars like Cheryl Cole and Rihanna - "I try not to worry about my looks, but they're so beautiful it's hard to compete."

She's also got Lady Gaga in her sights, adding that the star's pret-a-porterhouse stylings have made things difficult for the artists that follow in her footsteps. She told OK! "She's literally made normal artists and music boring, which bothers me. It annoys me when people say Leona Lewis is boring. No, she's not. She's got a sick voice and being normal is cool."

Given how worried she is about her music industry competition, perhaps she should focus on a star who's going to be easier to emulate. Someone like Beth Ditto, who recently told reporters that on a recent night out, she managed to throw up and piss herself. It might not generate as much publicity as when she was rumoured to be a supporter of the Illuminati, but all it takes is a couple of bottles of Merrydown. And that's the kind of accomplishment you just can't put a price tag on.

Don't hold it against her

Well, Britney's third or fourth (I've lost count) comeback is now in full swing, and the new album is just five short weeks away. Although it seems like just yesterday that a sultry schoolgirl was inflaming the lust of pedophiles and misogynists, it's actually 12 years since the former Mousketeer implanted herself in the public consciousness.

A lot has changed since then, not least in the pop landscape, where Britney was once seen as the pretender to Madonna's fiercely defended throne. But that was all pre-Gaga, and now there's a new bitch on the block for Britney to fight off.

Initially, it looked as though reclaiming her title was going to be as easy as taking chicken nuggets from a baby (her own baby, in fact). New single 'Hold It Against Me' netted an astonishing 411, 000 downloads in its first week, making it the fastest selling digital single for a female artist. However, she didn't count on a certain Lady, whose own comeback single managed to score one million sales in the same amount of time.

But all was not lost, since Britney had another ace up her sleeveless halter-top: the video. Even as the Bellamy Brothers were preparing to launch a pointless lawsuit, claiming ownership of the world's lamest pick-up line, Britney was getting ready to share an eagerly awaited new film clip that would show her back on top.

Having endured more relentless teasing than a gay kid in Catholic school, we were finally presented with the finished article. And it all seemed a bit, well, meh.

On the plus side, Britney's looking good again, although she's squeezed into a busty top that seems to defy all known laws of physics (particularly concerning gravity and displacement theory. She stomps around the stage in a pair of unforgiving microshorts, and shows off a kind of wedding dress that most gypsy brides would consider a bit 'showy'.

There's a lot going on in the video - dancers in underwear, walls of monitors, paint splashed all over the place, an incongruous reference to the opening scenes of the Rocky Horror Picture Show, Britney kicking her own ass, and even a flaming meteor. But none of it really hangs together - there's no coherent theme or narrative, except maybe the dark side of fame. Perhaps Britney knew that it was going to debut before an episode of Jersey Shore, and didn't want to tax the viewers with anything too cerebral.

But the most disappointing element of the video is the jarring product placement that seems to encroach on every scene, enhancing the sense of disjointedness. It's almost as though our attention span has been reduced to such microscopic levels that we need an ad break every eight seconds, because a four-minute promo would be just too much content to take in.

We see Britney spritz her Radiance perfume, brush on her Make Up Forever eye-shadow (does Britney do her own make-up on video shoots now?) and surf Plenty-Of-Fish, as well as suffering countless crash zooms into the Sony logo on her fancy new touchscreen laptop. It's all a bit wearying, and a far cry from the glimpse of wit we saw in the Womanizer video, which featured a close-up of a diary entry on her Nokia touchscreen that read 'Product Placement Meeting'.

Pop music is supposed to be commercial, and Britney certainly knows how to sell herself. But when the primary motive seems to be selling other people's stuff, the songs themselves become a secondary consideration. Suddenly, 'Me Against The Music' takes on a disappointing new meaning.

The Gaga Reflex

It's been billed as the most eagerly awaited song of the decade, with the kind of pre-release buzz that makes Jesus' second coming seem about as exciting as the New Kids On The Block reunion tour. And today, Lady Gaga's new single 'Born This Way' was finally unveiled to the world.

She's been talking it up as the song that will define her career, causing millions of little monsters to frot themselves into a coma at the prospect of Gaga at her creative peak. When she first performed an acapella snippet of the song at the VMAs in September last year, the internet was soon awash with remixes and interpretations based around the 15-second sample.

Since then, excitement has been steadily building, as the world keenly anticipated a song with the power to solve world hunger, end intolerance and maybe even inspire a half-decent movie for Jennifer Aniston to star in. Although, to be fair, great music can only do so much.

The lyrics were released a couple of weeks ago, in the process triggering a big debate about Gaga's unfortunate choice of racial terminology - ironic for a song designed to be an anthem for tolerance and acceptance. Earlier this week, Justin Beiber and James Blunt even teamed up (apologies for any nightmares that coupling might inspire) on the Ellen Show, to interpret the lyrics and speculate about how the finished record might sound.

OK, so it was mostly an extended gag, and not a particularly funny one. But it's interesting to note that, even as the media might mock Gaga's supernatural ability for self-publicity, they're happy to play along because it helps them to generate interesting content.

But what about the song itself? Well, now that it's out there for us all to hear, we can all reflect on the true meaning of hyperbole. The world hasn't changed, although it does have one more kick-ass, played-in-every-club-until-year-end dance record to enjoy.

Critics are already complaining that it sounds like early nineties Madonna, namely Express Yourself and Vogue. Melodically, there's also a dash of TLC's Waterfalls in the verses, and fans of Swedish pop music might even hear elements of Pandora's 'Nature Of Love' somewhere in there. As for the lyrics, it's worth remembering that a song by the same name was recorded by Carl Bean back in 1975 - coincidentally, the year when p0pvulture was 'born this way'.

Ultimately, none of this matters. Pop is a genre which lends itself to constant recycling and reinvention - Madonna's 25-year reign as the Queen of Pop can be attributed to the act that she has regenerated herself enough times to give Doctor Who a headache.

Her fans are going to love it, and the haters won't. But those in the middle might well find themselves drawn in by the insistent beats, Gaga's strongest vocals to date, and a chorus that takes up residence in your brain like a particularly truculent squatter.

Oh, and credit where credit's due - it takes a special kind of artist to base her comeback around an empowerment anthem that makes an explicit plea for tolerance around sexuality and gender identity. Chronologically, Gaga's song may arrive after other musicians have already attempted to address issues of teen bullying and the gay suicide epidemic. However, despite their edgy attitudes and novelty profanity, tracks like P!nk's Fuckin' Perfect and Ke$ha's We R Who We R manage to dodge the details, as a way of placating the music fans who'd prefer not to dwell on the subject matter. Gaga has never been one to mince her words, just her dress.

Disappointingly, not everyone in the gay community is happy with Gaga's newest opus. The original Party Monster James St James wrote a scathing critique of the song's lyrics, challenging Ms Germanotta for having the arrogance to proclaim her own song a 'gay anthem'. He claims "A gay anthem, whether it's "I Will Survive" or "The Man That Got Away" or "And I'm Telling You I'm Not Going," BECOMES a gay anthem because we find ourselves empathizing with the singer's passion or pain or exuberance... Gaga here isn't allowing us the choice of deciding whether or not this song will be a gay anthem (like "Bad Romance"), she's TELLING US that it is."

But that's a sure sign of how much things have changed. Rather than picking through the wreckage for crumbs of acknowledgment or inclusion, we have to face up to the sad fact that songs are now being written for, and about, us. Perhaps, in the pursuit of mainstream acceptance, we need to come to terms with the gradual surrender of our outsider status - to paraphrase The Incredibles, equality means accepting that we get to be as ordinary as everybody else.

It's highly likely that Gaga doesn't really give too much of a shit about what anyone says about the song. The fact that we're even talking about it means that, for her, it's another job well done. Although, if this is any indication of what's to come on her next album, it's safe to say she's on the right track, baby.

Justin time

To a world that has already endured its fair share of global pandemics, the idea of another new outbreak is almost too hideous to contemplate. And yet here we are in the midst of an international healthcare crisis that makes H1N1 look like a bad case of the sniffles. 

Half of the world's teenage population is currently in the grip of Bieber-Fever, a merciless infection which leaves them with a weakened immunity to squeaky R&B-lite. Patient zero for this disturbing affliction is 16 year-old Justin Bieber, an androgynous Canadian who was spotted by a talent scout singing on his own YouTube channel. 

In the last 18 months he's grown (figuratively speaking) into one of pop's biggest names, beaten only by Lady Gaga, who also trumps him in the testosterone count. As a result, he's already received his first Grammy nominations for Best New Artist and Best Pop Vocal Album.

The announcement was made last night while the pubescent popster was still in London, so he stayed up past his bedtime to listen to the broadcast. Speaking to Fearne Cotton today, he said "It's amazing, I'm so excited! Last night I was freaking out, all my life I have wanted to win a Grammy." It's quite an accomplishment, even if the timescale he's talking about can actually be measured in weeks. 

The good news was probably just what he needed, since he doesn't seem to be enjoying London much, telling Fearne: "I couldn't live here because the weather is very depressing. But I like the girls! The food I don't like really." Someone should probably point out that most countries in the Northern Hemisphere don't  have their best weather in November. 

For those perplexed by the helmet-haired manchild's popularity, it seems that there's light at the end of the tunnel. Puberty is finally exacting its icy grip on Justin's vocal chords and threatening to derail his plans at world domination. 

According to a source quoted by the News of the World, "Justin is physically developing at a slower rate than most guys so his voice is only breaking now. He's working with the best in the business, a specialist called Jan Smith, to make sure he gets much vocal rest as humanly possible for a working popstar."

Which certainly explains why nobody bothered to give him a working microphone when he appeared on the X-Factor this weekend to 'perform' a medley of his hits. He may have thrown down some impressive moves, but he squeezed out fewer notes than a prisoner in solitary confinement. 

Even if puberty doesn't ruin Justin's chances at conquering the music industry, he should still be nervous. With Willow Smith scoring a number one before her tenth birthday, he's already looking like yesterday's news. 

Shut up and sing?

Ever since the golden age of disco, female singers have been intermittently churning out gay-friendly anthems to encourage and support their sparkliest fans. The songs themselves haven't always been explicitly pro-gay, but they tend to have a message that can be easily applied to the trials and tribulations of post-closet life.

These days, however, the divas are getting much more active when it comes to voicing their support for the gay community, beyond the occasional PA in a clothing-optional nightspot. Katy Perry, Lady Gaga and Ke$ha have all become outspoken advocates of homosexuality, consigning Gloria Gaynor and Diana Ross to the bargain bin of homo-activism.

Despite still being months away from an official release, Gaga's 'Born This Way' is already being talked up by no less than Elton John as the ultimate gay rights anthem. So far, all anyone's heard is a short acappella snippet that Gaga performed whilst accepting her MTV Music Video Award. But that was enough to inspire a bunch of DJs to turn the sample into a stomping anthem that's been doing the rounds in every club from Christopher Street to the Castro.

Katy Perry's new single Firework is also being talked up as the official soundtrack of the 'It Gets Better' movement. Having pledged her support for the anti-bullying YouTube campaign, Katy managed to tear herself away from her epic nuptials long enough to tweet that "Everyone has the spark to be a firework.”

The video for the song features two boys snogging each other's faces off as a series of spectacular pyrotechnics burst from Katy's dynamic décolletage. This is starting to become something of a trend for the new Mrs Brand, since the film clip for her previous single 'California Girls' featured cans of whipped cream exploding from her bikini top. At this rate, by the time her third album is released, she'll have lactated the entire periodic table.

But the real surprise is Ke$ha - a girl with less depth than her own calendar. She's managed to cobble together a timely answer to the outbreak of suicides in the form of a new song called 'We R Who We R'. Presumably she was in such a rush to record it that she didn't have time to sort out the punctuation.
It turns out that when she's not brushing her teeth with bourbon and clambering out a skip, Ke$ha spends her time thinking about people “who haven’t felt accepted because of their sexuality.” 

Her new song is a rallying cry (autotuned, natch) for "people [to be] themselves unapologetically". Although it sounds like a rehashed megamix of all her other singles, Ke$ha believes that she's struck solid glitter this time - "I never could have imagined how much impact my music could have on people. I realized that through pop music, I have the opportunity to stand up for something I believe in.” Even if standing is something that she has trouble doing unaided. 

No doubt the critics will carp that it's all a cynical exercise in selling records and aligning themselves with all the right social issues. And at the end of the day, what difference can a bunch of pampered pop-stars really make? A lot, according to activist and sex columnist Dan Savage. He told the New York Times: “These songs are countering a hateful message that a peer, family member, politician or a bully might be saying. I get frustrated with gay politicos who discount or undermine the importance of pop stars. They’re a huge part of this fight.”

OK, it might be cause for concern that vapid pop tarts like Katy Perry and Ke$ha are the only hope for the world's disaffected gay teens. But given the amount of support they can expect to receive from this niche audience once they find the nerve to throw open the closet door, it's the least they can do.

What not to wear, or read

With a haul of awards that threatens to wrench even the sturdiest mantelpiece away from the wall, Lady Gaga can rightly consider last week's appearance at the VMAs a triumph. As she hung her meat dress up in the walk-in fridge, I wonder if she took a moment to reflect back on the last 18 months.

Seemingly overnight she's gone from electronic pop novelty to the world's biggest music star, Queen of Twitter and the most popular living person on Facebook. Not bad for a woman who spends half her time looking for giant inanimate objects to balance on her head.

But you don't inspire that kind of following without ruffling a few feathers. Which is why post-feminist social commentator Camille Paglia found the popster worthy of her own specialist brand of verbosely over-analysed critique.

In a lengthy article (no-one seems to know exactly how lengthy, since most of it is tucked away behind Rupert Murdoch's infuriating paywall) Paglia attempts to deconstruct the myth of Gaga - ultimately blaming her for 'the death of sex'.

Labelling her the 'Diva of Deja Vu', Paglia tears strips off the chart-dominating 'icon of her generation' (which, given last Sunday's outfit, might have made for a very nice carpaccio). But I have to admit feeling a little disappointed with the depth of Paglia's understanding - you hardly need to sit on the board of a humanities journal to figure out that "Lady Gaga is a manufactured personality". What next? Gaga's not a real blonde? Actually, yes, that gets mentioned too.

Ultimately, Paglia's real error is in condemning Gaga for being unsexy, comparing her to "a gangly marionette or plasticised android". The content of Gaga's videos and music may be heavily sexualised, but it's rarely intended to be sexy. In the same way that it's possible to eroticise something without being erotic.

If you thought that Paglia's eviscerating attack was tough, that's nothing compared with what Liz Jones has in store for The Artist Formerly Known As Stefani Germanotta. At least that's how it probably sounded inside Liz's raven-haired head.

A couple of weeks ago she tried to follow in the footsteps of Julia Roberts' portrayal of Eat, Pray, Love author Elizabeth Gilbert. Sadly, the only thing anyone will have taken from the article is a profound sense of pity for a woman reduced to recreating a shot from the movie - sitting on a Rome bench eating sorbet with a plastic spoon.

Liz Jones is no Julia Roberts. Then again, she's no Camille Paglia either, as her latest article makes woefully clear. Feeding off the scraps that Camille Paglia obviously felt were beneath her, Liz attempts to offer new insight into "the strange exhibitionist...who steals other performers' creativity and claims it as her own". There's a definite irony here that she's clearly missed.

Ignoring the fact that art, fashion and music constantly recycle and re-appropriate ideas, Liz lists a litany of far more creative and innovative artists - Courtney Love, David Bowie, Victoria Beckham. I wish I was making that last one up, but no, apparently Victoria invented the concept of wearing a hat.

In Liz's mind (a dark, feverish maelstrom I can't even begin to imagine) Lady Gaga is more con than artist. But surely the point of any artist is to provoke discussion, debate and multiple interpretations. If so, Gaga deserves to be installed in the Louvre. And Liz Jones deserves to be slowly devoured by her beloved cats.

All dressed up and no place to go

Think quickly people - with only eight weeks to go, you need to start figuring out that all-important Hallowe'en costume. Two years ago, Sarah Palin was all the rage. So thousands of women, and probably even more men, threw on a smart tailored suit, a big brown wig and some sensible-looking glasses in order to terrorise their friends and neighbours.

It's no good looking to horror movies for inspiration. The slashers of yesteryear are long gone, replaced by movies that revel in low-fi camcorder hauntings or slow, grisly and un-anaesthetised limb removal. Not much to go on there, unless you fancy going to a party looking like partly-ground beef.

Thankfully, help is at hand, courtesy of everyone's favourite pop icon. With enough time for everyone to get their orders in, the officially licensed range of 'Haus of Gaga' outfits has been released to the general public.

OK, so there's going to be a bunch of very pissed off drag queens who've spent the last few months hunched over a sewing machine trying desperately to recreate Gaga's influential look. However, everyone else will no doubt delight in the fact that they can go to a Hallowe'en party looking like they just collided with a ceiling fan.

There are some pretty cool accessories too, including the beer-can wig from 'Telephone' and the cut-away 'Poker Face' swimsuit. Sadly though, there's no sign of Gaga's now-infamous Kermit outfit, or the sunglasses made out of cigarettes. The amphibians are safe, for now.

Nonetheless, Gaga's 'Little Monsters' will be thrilled to be able to emulate some of the most iconic outfits since Marilyn Monroe felt a sudden breeze up her gusset. I say 'some' because of course Gaga isn't the first blonde superstar to inspire legions of dedicated followers with her outlandish fashions.

Back before Gaga was a twinkle in Mr Germanotta's eye, Dolly Parton was inviting the world to take a look inside her not inconsiderable closet. Appearing on The Mike Douglass Show in 1977, the gravity-bothering country bombshell showcased some of her favourite outfits in an extraordinary fashion show.

Although Dolly has always had a quick wit and a natural ability to perform, she seems a little sad in this footage. And not because she's being forced to stand and pose in an empty TV studio, wearing some of the ugliest garments ever captured on video-tape. One ensemble, which she claims she would wear to the recording studio, involves a bulky overcoat and a platinum hairpiece, making her look like a flasher hiding behind a wedding cake.

At the time she was desperately unhappy with her weight, and seemed to think that the easiest way to distract people from her bulges was to wear wigs so grand that Elton could have borrowed one for his Louis XIV-themed 50th birthday. She's still wearing wigs today, although, like Gaga, she's at least had the good sense to turn this into merchandisable business stream.

Gaga's critics are always quick to point out that she's borrowed much of Madonna's schtick - from the overt sexuality to the continual image re-invention. But it's worth remembering that Madge wasn't the first to show her Blonde Ambition, and hopefully our Lady won't be the last.

Katy should shut the smurf up

Everyone knows the first rule of publicity - do something controversial and everyone will talk about you. Katy Perry knows all about that, after all, she's engaged to Russell Brand and he can't blow his nose without giving Daily Mail readers an aneurysm. Then again, she's no stranger to shock tactics herself, thanks to her faux-lesbian antics in 'I Kissed a Girl' and her homophobic debut single 'U R So Gay'.

As the daughter of a pair of ministers, Katy grew up singing in church and attending Christian summer camps. Although she started out singing gospel, by the time she was ready for the big-time, Katy had ditched the religion (as well as her real last name) and was courting a decidedly secular audience. Hardly surprising given that she grew up delighting in rebelling against her parents' conservatism.

Unfortunately, she may have discarded some of her inhibitions but she decided to hang on to the hypocrisy of fundamentalism. A couple of weeks ago she took to Twitter to critique the new Lady Gaga video, commenting "Using blasphemy as entertainment is as cheap as a comedian telling a fart joke." Apparently not everyone approves of videos that equate religion with fascism.

As soon as the news media picked up on Katy's condemnation, she promptly backtracked, telling an interviewer that people think she's "a very hypocritical person ... Spirituality and sexuality are two separate things. When you decide to put it into the same subject, it gets interesting for some people. Everyone knows... I've said 100 times on my Twitter: I'm one of the biggest Lady Gaga and Madonna and Russell Brand fans..."

Of course, the interesting post-script to all this talk of controversy is the fact that Katy has also managed to upset people this week, with the debut of her new video for California Gurls. Katy may dance around in the video in a ridiculous cream-cake bra, but it's one particular guest appearance that seems to have people upset with the blue-haired banshee.


Katy is joined by a troop of dancing Gummi bears, a couple of whom decide to flip her the bird - perhaps they had to sit through one of her live performances of 'Waking Up In Vegas'. The brand manager for Trolli (who make the chewy ursine characters) issued a statement saying "Those are definitely not Trolli Gummi bears in the video because Trolli Gummi Bears would never be that rude. Trolli bears would extend their chubby little arms and give Katy a big old bear hug and whisper, 'Everything is going to be alright'." He may think that sounds cute, I think it's pretty creepy.

Having already perverted people's memories of those lovable Gummi bears, it'll be interesting to see what impact Katy will have on the similarly themed Smurfs when the movie adaptation hits screens later this year. As she told MTV: "My mother thought that Smurfette was a little bit slutty, being the only female in the village. And now I've shown her. I called her up and said, 'Guess what, ma? I'm Smurfette!'" Maybe mother had a point...

This is for shooting, this is for fun

One of the big political issues currently facing Barack Obama is the repeal of the 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' policy. The legal equivalent of sticking your fingers in your ears and looking the other way, DADT was introduced by Bill Clinton as a way of circumventing the restriction on gays and lesbians serving in the US military.

Although the policy forbids the military from investigating the sexuality of anyone in its ranks, it also bars anyone openly gay, lesbian or bisexual from serving. LGBT military personnel are expected to keep their lifestyle a secret, or face a dishonourable discharge - a punishment which has seen thousands of highly decorated soldiers kicked out, despite their otherwise exemplary records.

Obama seems keen to overturn DADT, but it's yet another divisive issue where the Christian Right is willing to exert its considerable influence. Part of the problem is the fact that there's still a great deal of intolerance within the military, with only 26% of personnel in favour of gays and lesbians serving, compared with 37% opposing the idea.

Despite regularly-voiced concerns that group morale may be negatively impacted by having openly gay people in the unit, there seems to be no empirical data to support these claims. A study by the American Psychological Association found that "when lesbians, gay men and bisexuals are allowed to serve openly there is no evidence of disruption or loss of mission effectiveness."

However, I believe their is evidence that closeted gays can cause extensive disruption. The video below was recorded by a group of US soldiers stationed at a military base in southwest Afghanistan, and graphically illustrates the impact that closeted behaviour can have on group cohesion and operational focus.



The all-male cast from the 82nd Airborne Division have clearly spent hours carefully practicing their elaborate reconstruction of Lady Gaga's video for Telephone. Already one of the most imitated videos of all time, despite only being about three months old, the nine-minute epic inspired Aaron Melcher, a married 24-year-old soldier, to choreograph his tribute to Jonas Åkerlund's masterpiece.

The big question here, is where does a soldier, stationed in Afganistan, find a glittery 'Drama Queen' sash?

No dick but plenty of balls

Back in 1983, Michael Jackson single-handedly (along with a troupe of 30-or-so zombified dancers) transformed the fledgeling music video format into a viable art form. Constructing a mini-movie around the concept of a fourth wall-breaking horror film, Thriller engaged the entire world in a discussion about the convergence of pop music and film. And he turned into a cool lynx-cum-werewolf.

Today's pop music landscape is almost unrecognisable when compared with those more innocent times. Back then, when people wanted the latest music they had to sit by the radio with their fingers poised over the record button on a tape recorder. Nowadays, they just head to a bit-torrent site or rapidshare to download it before it's even released.

We don't listen to music, we consume content. And that makes it so much harder for genuine visionaries to find an audience. So Madonna-be-praised for Lady Gaga, standing proud as the last remaining outpost in a pop cultural wasteland, with a giant polystyrene telephone on her head.

Those who don't 'get' Lady Gaga see her as a fame-hungry oddity, strutting through airports dressed as a giant rubber hornet as she attempts to flog her tacky post-modern disco trash. However, those who've 'seen the light' understand that she's an artist in the truest sense of the word. Don't believe me? Just check out her new video for Telephone.

With a convoluted narrative, more costume changes than the Sex and the City movie, and plenty of envelope-pushing raunch, Gaga's new video is certainly hitting the headlines.

Within four days, the video had already been viewed on YouTube 17 million times, breaking all kinds of internetular records. More importantly, it also inspired more interpretive readings than the works of Herman Melville.

For the Daily Mail, it was like Winterval and Richard Littlejohn's birthday all at once. A sleazy, subtext-heavy video full of trouser-twitching imagery that allowed them to transcribe every flick of hair and thrust of boob, accompanied by enough screen-grabs to render the actual video itself redundant. Tired of giving away Bryan Ferry and Simply Red CDs, the Mail has now invented the flip-book pop video. Just cut out and keep the pictures, and away you go.

Reactions on the other side of the pond have also been depressingly predictable. Fox News aired a segment yesterday where two women, who talk as though they haven't had 'marital relations' since Bush Sr was in office, took it in turns to decry Gaga's excesses in a thinly-veiled attack on homosexuality. Speaking to news anchor Megyn Kelly, Culture Campaign President Sandy Rios said "And then we've got Beyonce and Gaga - gay, lesbian lovers? It's disgusting Megyn...This is just poison for the minds for our kids, and for our minds for that matter."

Conservative reactions aside, the video itself is a genuine masterpiece, challenging convention and replaying a ridiculous range of influences in its nine minutes of shiny pop glory. Where else would you find 'Caged Heat' lesbian prison drama, Quentin Tarantino crossed with Fried Green Tomatoes, Thelma and Louise, plus a dance routine about making sandwiches?

But there are some other critical voices adding their disdain to the mix, and they're not doing themselves any favours. The transgender community is up-in-chiffon-encased-arms about Gaga's self-deprecating joke about her rumoured hermaphrodite history. In the video, she thrusts her naked groin against the bars of her jail cell, prompting the cross-dressing prison guard to comment "I told you she didn’t have a dick."

Transgendered blogger gudbuy t'jane believes that Gaga is continuing her "gender essentialism, slipping in a 'no dick = not a tranny' joke at about a minute in, before the song even begins to play. That she’s using trans women and drag queens to exoticize her videos doesn’t defer from the cissupremacist stance that women = vagina, and trans women are therefore not real women. Her anxiety at being seen as trans is clear, and her response is typical of cis privilege and trans marginalization: We’re supposed to wipe our brows and sigh relief that she’s actually a real woman. This is transmisogyny."

Answers on a postcard if anyone can explain what cissupremacy is. Anyone? Perhaps someone should explain to the blogger (non-gender-specific terminology chosen deliberately) that there's a difference between transgenders and hermaphrodites.

Funnily enough, when Michael Jackson made Thriller, his Jehovah's Witness beliefs compelled him to add a disclaimer to the start of the video that read “Due to my strong personal convictions, I wish to stress that this film in no way endorses a belief in the occult.” I'd love to see what Gaga might have pre-emptively apologised for.

Anyway, enough talk. Watch and learn:

Lady goes Gaga over fans

When you finally achieve your dreams, it's very tough to stay grounded. For some people, all it takes is one whiff of success and they start throwing their weight around like a pre-menstrual Mariah Carey. So we should all be grateful for Lady Gaga who manages to be both grateful and gracious to her fans for putting her where she is today - even if that happens to be her own little world.

A few months ago, when she released the follow-up to her best-selling debut album, she treated the fans queuing outside the record signing to a thousand dollars worth of pizza as a way of saying thank you. Some might carp that she didn't bother to check whether anyone was gluten intolerant or trying to lay off the carbs, but in this instance, it's definitely the thought that counts.

The strange thing is, as pretentious as her stage persona might seem to some, she's actually very grounded. She's said repeatedly that she's driven by a need to please and delight her fans, and make outsiders feel welcome and accepted. All very commendable.

Yesterday, she went another step closer to proving this point when she added a link on her official Twitter page, along with the comment 'holy shit'. The video (posted below) was made by a group of friends who received Flip cameras for Christmas and decided to remake Gaga's award-winning video for Bad Romance.



Although they were working from a significantly more rstrictive budget, and the choreography is somewhat lacklustre, they can't be faulted for their commitment or attention to detail. You'll never look at a laundry basket the same way again after this.

Whereas some celebrities might get their record company to pressure YouTube to take down the video for breaking the rules over music usage rights, Lady Gaga decided to share the video with her 2+ million-strong group of Twitter followers. For all the fans who keep posting messages in the hope their favourite star migth notice them, this should be considered a major breakthrough.

Already, the video has received over a quarter of a million hits. But, ironically, this has caused something of an unforeseen problem for the young videographers.

A new note on their YouTube channel reads: "We're flattered some of you guys friend requested us on Facebook, but we wanna try to keep our personal lives seperate. So add our fanpage instead :D!" Isn't it funny how quickly people forget the fans who put them where they are today?

That was the year that was

Ordinarily, a year-end review is best saved for the end of the year. It's right there in the name. But we're already half way through December, and New Year is looming on the horizon like the threat of another glut of weight-loss DVDs starring ex-EastEnders.

So in honour of the great and the good (and the eye-scratchingly awful) who have made this blog the awesome cultural barometer that it is, here's a video I found that summarises the year that was 2009. It's a parade of shame that calls upon a number of this year's most notorious alumni, including Jon and Kate Gosselin, Nadya Suleman, Spencer and Heidi Pratt, Barack Obama, Kanye West and Taylor Swift, Lady GaGa, Christian Bale and Twitter.

Best of all, it's been edited to show off the magic of Auto-Tune, a piece of software that makes the Calrec SoundField Microphone seem like yesterday's old news. When you're using Auto-Tune, even the most mundane conversation can be transformed into a melodic chorus. JLS are big fans.

Anyway, here's 2009 in review. See how much you remember, and don't forget - you saw it here first (apparently Viacom are closing this down, so be quick).



This Year in Auto-Tune 2009 - Watch more Funny Videos

Camilla vs Beyonce

After years spent avoiding the limelight (rather wise, all things considered), Camilla, Duchess of Cornwall has been out and about, meeting her public and getting involved in social 'issues'.


This week involved a trip to the Rape and Sexual Abuse Support Centre in Croydon, where she took part in a discussion with some victims of sexual abuse. Making her best empathy face (which, like every other expression in her repertoire, looks like she just gulped down the lemon slice in her gin) Camilla listened in as the women talked about their traumatic experiences.


Popular culture soon found its way into the dialogue, with conversation turning to the depiction of sex and violence in music videos. It didn't take long for Camilla to get her old-lady M&S knickers in a twist about modern pop music, in the process condemning Beyonce as part of the problem.


Having accidentally stumbled upon the new video for Lady Gaga's 'Telephone', the bark-faced blue blood weighed in with her informed opinion, commenting "a lot of these videos are terrifying..." Although they're not nearly as eye-wateringly horrific as they would be if it was Camilla herself depicted in a see-through plastic corset.

"It has happened too quickly, values have changed so much..." the Duchess (and notorious home-wrecker) claimed. Apparently, she's concerned that today's videos offer up too much inappropriate content and contribute to the problem of sexual violence.

It doesn't exactly help her argument that one of the women she spoke to has spent the last 30 years attempting to confront the demons triggered by her rape at the age of 17. Given that pop videos didn't really exist in the late seventies, one can hardly blame the format for situation.

Unsurprisingly, the Daily Mail is slavishly following in Camilla's lavender-scented wake, implying that Beyonce's eroticised video appearances are, in some way, responsible for the number of sexual attacks taking place. In their world, such logic is easy to swallow - why address the issues in society when we can blame the popstars instead? Their hair is too shiny, their legs are too long and they all make far too much money. It's all their fault.

Ultimately, it's hard not to feel sorry for the Daily Mail, with its hopeless coverage of this story which they've even illustrated with screen-grabs from the wrong video. In the article, they keep referencing Beyonce's 'Video Phone', but the images they reproduce are from Lady Gaga (featuring Beyonce)'s 'Telephone'. Not that any of the Mail's readers would be expected to know the difference. For most of them, it's enough to have someone to blame.

Mad as a box of frogs

Websites and gossip magazines just love to pit celebrities against one another. And since genuine catfights are few and far between, they have to engineer opportunities to force their readers to take sides. The easiest and seemingly most popular route is to find celebrities who've worn the same outfit and encourage their readers to vote for who looks best. Sadly, going on her recent form at least, it'll be some time before we see Lady GaGa on those pages.



In the past couple of weeks we've seen her wearing gigantic hats, gimp masks, spirograph headgear and a studded leather corset that shoots fireworks from its breasts. Needless to say, GaGa's not a girl who shuns the limelight. Many people seem to find her annoying and pretentious, but I think they're missing the point.

Just like Sacha Baron Cohen, Stefani Germanotta (her real name in case you were wondering) is a performance artist who has brought her character into the real world to enhance the audience's engagement with the product she's created. In doing so, she's found a clever way of maintaining interest and intrigue. And the knock-on effect of all this is that she's made US chart history by being the first American act to score three number ones from a debut album.

Ordinarily, new artists explode onto the scene with a smash hit song, release an album and then accept the law of diminishing returns with each successive release until they have a second album to launch. GaGa understands the power of a campaign (as this great article recognises) and has managed to keep her profile high even now, almost a year after the album debuted.

Asked about her 'art' in Maxim magazine, GaGa named David Bowie and Andy Warhol as her inspiration. "Warhol said art should be meaningful in the most shallow way. He was able to make commercial art that was taken seriously as fine art, to use something simple and shallow and take it to another planet. That's what I'm doing too." But just as importantly, she doesn't seem to take any of this pretentious post-rationalisation too seriously. Then again, it's hard to take anything seriously when you're dressed like a Muppet mass grave.

Pots and kettles

Who doesn't love Kelly Osbourne? Actually that's a rhetorical question, you don't need to answer. Despite looking like a Pizza Express doughball in a bad wig, and having no discernible skills or talent, she loves to lay into anyone else vying for attention in the public eye. As opinionated as she is ill-informed, she's always game for a knuckle-gnawingly awful soundbite about someone more famous.

In fact, type 'Kelly Osbourne attacks' into Google and over 200,000 results come back. Paris Hilton,Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, Amy Winehouse and the Spice Girls have all felt the sharp end of Kelly's overworked tongue. Although, technically, Amy was defriended rather than attacked. Big difference apparently.

This week, Kelly's turned her beady eye on flavour-of-the-month Lady GaGa. Although she grudgingly admitted liking GaGa's music, she condemned the eccentric popstrel as being a butterface. But the hypocrisy doesn't stop there. Kelly also said "I just wish she'd keep her mouth shut. She talks way too much and has too much attitude."

Still, this casual venom should hardly come as a surprise, given Kelly's unique heritage. After all, this is a girl who fondly recalls the times when her mother Sharon would get her and Jack to shit in a box, then send it to any journalists that had annoyed her. With that in mind, I'd love to see the criteria for Celebrity Mother of the Year, which Sharon won in 2006. Maybe Kerry Katona was busy that year?