While listening to Animal, the debut album from Ke$ha, something occurred to me: This album is exactly like the recently-leaked WikiLeaks papers about the war in Afghanistan.
No, seriously. Hear me out.
Ke$ha recently told Paper magazine that she would be willing to work on a country album but is "really digging being called, like half-jokingly, a white-girl rapper. I think it's really funny and I'm going to ride that train for a little bit." That's an incredible thing to admit. The thing about the WikiLeaks documents is that they don't really disclose any facts that people didn't already know. It's a lot of information that was already out there and reported on. But the fact that the government is on the record acknowledging it is a pretty big deal. It's one thing for everybody to know that something is true, but it's another thing for the party in question to admit that said thing is true.
Ke$ha's statements about shifting her personality are a lot like that. Everybody pretty much knew that she was a construction of her own design, a hyped-up, extra-loud version of a pop star who covers herself in glitter and rolls around in adrenaline-pumping pop constructions put together by the most talented songwriting ninjas of the day. But for her to actually come out and say, "Hey! It's all a ruse!" makes it feel a little more real.
Under normal circumstances, that would be a big problem. Pop music isn't as concerned about authenticity as people in rock or hip-hop, but people are still expected to put forth some semblance of being "real." But we don't like Ke$ha because she feels more (or less) legitimate than anybody else on the pop landscape. We don't buy tickets to concerts or purchase copies of Animal because of the depth or rawness of her approach. We are on board the Ke$ha train because she is an incredible cypher for songs like "Tik Tok" and "Your Love Is My Drug." Under normal circumstances, the non-single songs on Animal would be completely beside the point.
But Animal wouldn't have sold 850,000 copies and still be in the upper echelons of the Billboard album chart after 29 weeks of release if the songs weren't sticky like peanut butter on the brain. It's not a complicated formula, really, as Ke$ha takes the disco-fueled keyboard washes that Lady Gaga has turned into mainstream pop and added some New Wave warmth, bits of hip-hop and enough sex talk to make Ron Jeremy blush.
I try to make "Popology" about the songs in between the singles, because that tends to be where the story is, but in the case of Animal, it really begins and ends with "Tik Tok." It's one of those songs that sounds awful the first time you hear it, better the third time and atrocious the seventh time. But eventually you find yourself singing it under your breath while you take out the trash, and it somehow makes it onto the mix you listen to when you go running because that moment when the chorus kicks in really gets the blood pumping. It's an incredible construction that I cannot explain, even with the advanced degree in pop science I got from Britney University.
Nothing else on Animal quite matches the majesty of "Tik Tok," but plenty of this stuff comes close. "Take It Off" borrows the melody of the children's rhyme "There's a Place in France," and it is simultaneously enraging (because it's so basic and lazy) and thrilling (because it totally works. In fact, many of the songs on Animal seem to exist specifically to put rock critics out of business. Tracks like "Blah Blah Blah," "Party at a Rich Dude's House" (which, incidentally, sounds like the best faux-metal song that Rivers Cuomo never wrote) and "Blind" seem to say, "We are incredibly vapid and almost entirely empty — but we dare you to not absolutely adore us. We're incredibly catchy and funky and easy to dance to." There has never been an album more lovably loathsome than Animal, and I secretly think that's exactly what Ke$ha was going for.
One more note: Many people write about Ke$ha in the context of rap music, because a lot of what she does on the album could be considered rapping. But it's more of a Toni Basil-esque chant than actual rapping. Plus, she doesn't seem especially concerned with appropriating hip-hop beyond expressing a level of swagger. Musically, Animal borrows from modern dance but also seems to owe a level of debt to (wait for it) the Bloodhound Gang. With some ur-rock skills, an appreciation for rapping and a visceral sense of humor, tracks like "Dinosaur" are as over-the-top as anything from the Beastie Boys' License to Ill era.
And since the Beastie Boys aren't playing that role anymore, it's good that we have Ke$ha around. Somebody has to play the court jester, and it's refreshing when somebody is so willing to throw herself into the part with as much gusto. Ke$ha isn't looking to transcend much of anything, but she is fun. What's not to love? Read: mtv.com
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