
Adam Lambert, Trespassing

Santigold, Master of My Make-Believe
Adam Lambert, Trespassing
Adam Lambert isn’t just here "for your entertainment" – the
mission statement, and title, of the Idol grad’s debut, a perfunctory music
cherry-popper that entertained but shied away from any bold assertions. A lot
changes in three years, though, and the wild rebel – on and off stage, as
demonstrated by turning an awards performance into a sex simulation and, you
know, by just being gay – wants more than to show you a good time. So,
Lambert’s getting down to business: quiet come-down "Outlaws of Love," reserved
for the ballad-heavy second half, is a powerful cry for equality wonderfully
sung in a near-whisper (his own "Mad World"); "Underneath" gets to his core,
where there’s "no apologies"; and the brazen catwalk-made, Pharrell
Williams-produced title track screams fierce, like some kind of Queen update,
and further casts Adam as the queerest bad boy (or girl) on the pop block. His
rabble-rousing spills over into "Cuckoo," where he takes full advantage of his
right to "turn it up and get down" – two things you’ll find yourself guilty of.
Basically, with the album’s best hook, it’s hot enough to melt the eyeliner off
his face. Trespassing is certainly more conceptualized than his debut, but
it’s not a perfect album: "Never Close Our Eyes" is Dance Music for Dummies,
and the intentionally darker half drags. Let’s just call those growing pains on
his glittery path to greatness.
Grade: B
Santigold, Master of My Make-Believe
There’s nothing stopping Santigold, and that’s not just
because the Philly native sets off the long-gestating follow-up to her 2008
debut with the strutting bravado of "GO!" Stuttering into a raving cheer like
some made-for-roller-skating song out of the ’80s, and featuring dance-queen
Karen O, the thrillingly schizo song is just the start of a dynamic cross-genre
work that’s ultra-absorbing in its sharp observations on the socio-political
climate – and, best of all, always ear-worming. Hopelessness all of a sudden
dissipates in the encouraging illusion of "Disparate Youth," an empowering
anthem of freedom, unification and determination filtered through an
evocatively torched rhythmic recipe. Two standouts, "This Isn’t Our Parade" and
"The Riot’s Gone," could be addressing a relationship as much as a revolution.
Her intention is clearer on the album’s best cut, "The Keepers," a sure
declaration of madness: "While we sleep in America, our house is burning down."
The song’s drum rush offers a contradiction that runs through much of Master
of My Make-Believe: beats that bounce on songs that are considerably bleak.
Only a few times, with the aggressively effective but less compelling "Look at
These Hoes" and "Freak Like Me," does she reverse that incongruity for
mindlessness. Otherwise, her message seems to be: bad things happen, but keep
on moving. With Make-Believe, that shouldn’t be a problem.
Grade: B+
Also Out
Neon Trees, Picture Show
On the alt-rock, all-Mormon band’s second LP, it’s Tyler
Glenn against the world. With "Teenage Sounds," after suggesting he’s a
switch-hitter, he drops this bomb: "I’m sick of being called fag because I’m
queer." It’s an angry rant, particularly lambasting fame whores, that bites
down hard with a feverish rebellion that snarls at anyone who ever pissed him
off. If you have, his menacing howl will sting you. Then, there’s "Mad Love," a
sweet ’80s-leaned duet with drummer Elaine Bradley – it’s an easy-going moment
not at all like Glenn’s temper tantrum. Though more contrived as it moves
along, the ironically titled "Hooray for Hollywood" is the band’s low. The song’s
a discombobulated, pretentiously arty cautionary tale that, like "Vogue," name
drops dead celebs. Teenage sounds of love and angst serve Neon Trees so much
better.
Rye Rye, Go! Pop! Bang!
My introduction to the Maryland rapper wasn’t off to a great
start: though not bad, sampling Robyn on first-single "Never Will Be Mine" felt
like an unnecessary, gay-baiting move, a song that would’ve been nothing
without the Swede’s contribution. But Rye Rye’s debut, postponed due to
pregnancy, is finally out – and our musical relationship is on the mend. Love
is in the air on summer-sounding "Crazy Bitch," a ... uh ... cute duet with Akon
about two psychotic lovers; "Boom Boom" is so stupid, and the kind of the song
that won’t leave your ear hole. And how about the other sample? Rolling Annie
Get Your Gun music into "Better Than You" is so genius that you start to
believe that anything you can do, she can do better.