Blackout

Every song counts as markedly progressive and strange, from "Get Naked (I Got A Plan)" (which sounds like intergalactic R&B filtered through The Cure's Pornography) to "Freakshow," which gets by on little more than serpentine snaps, wub-wub bass, and Britney sounding synthetic and irresistibly at home.

Poetry it's not. Still, there is something delightfully escapist about Blackout, a perfectly serviceable dance album abundant in the kind of bouncy electro elements that buttressed her hottest hits.

Her oft-misunderstood comeback and a defining cultural artifact of the dark, trashy, celebrity-driven essence of the aughts.

It is true that Blackout benefits from extremely low expectations, but while Blackout stands as one of 2007's happiest surprises, it genuinely succeeds on its own merit as a frequently genre-busting redefinition of mainstream music, largely thanks to the contribution of Timbaland cohort Danja.

For all the state-of-the-art urban production, there’s something distinctly unsavoury about Blackout. And yet, the truly bizarre thing is, the music is top notch.

On a hit-to-miss scale, Blackout scores well, and its hotness quotient is remarkably high, but the album isn’t much of a step forward for Britney following 2003’s surprisingly strong In the Zone.

What's notable is that Blackout is the first time in her career that she's voiced any real thoughts about her life.

Just sit back, savour those crisp beats and placid synths unfurling out your speakers like chilly vapours curling from iced buckets of Moet.