Jackson is at ease on this album, and most of the lyrics pertain to her contentment with new husband Wissam Al Mana. Having a legion of people who love you, even if it’s just for your art, must be reassuring. But considering just how much shit she’s had to deal with, from an abusive childhood to self-hatred to post-Super Bowl blacklisting, it’s well-earned. ![]() This might seem like the recipe for something trite. The album feels like a sigh of relief, an expression of overwhelming gratitude not only to her longtime fans, but anyone who’s still listening. But it is a gift for the fans: 64 minutes of compulsively listenable new music with no conceptual baggage. Unbreakable is neither a sonic game-changer like Control nor an exorcism like The Velvet Rope. And in a time when pop is taken more seriously than ever–thanks in part to Beyonce’s self-titled, which took a few cues from Jackson’s The Velvet Rope–what better time for her to return? Not since 2001’s All For You has popular culture beheld Jackson as a serious pop artist free of silly context. Indeed, it’s been seven years since Discipline, the last in a series of albums overshadowed by the 2004 Super Bowl “wardrobe malfunction” that tainted her career. ![]() “ It’s been a while,” Janet Jackson whispers at the beginning of her 11th album, Unbreakable.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |