JESSICA SIMPSON
A Public Affair (Epic)
Following the divorce, Jessica Simpson’s ex-husband recorded “What’s Left of Me.” Yet, for her post “Newlyweds: Nick & Jessica” album, there is no regret. In fact, the newly single Simpson is just the opposite; she’s ready to party. The question is: what to wear? And on her fifth album, the pop-star princess borrows or lifts lots of hats, namely Madonna, the Cars, Dead or Alive and most curiously, Patty Griffin’s “Let Him Fly” wherein the young singer reaches for a gravitas and authenticity that no amount of breathy pining will ever grant her. Like the album’s packaging, it’s nice on the outside but empty were it counts. (Shawn Telford)
GRADE: D
This is only the second “D” I have ever given as a music journalist. The first came last week with the debut release from that fucking media-whore Paris Hilton. Man, she is in love with herself. Apparently, listening to her own album makes her cry. She made this confession during an interview for Blender magazine. Her exact words: “I, like, cry, when I listen to it, it’s so good.”
Naturally, the writer continues the interview without batting an eye. Me, I would have beaten her over the head with such a self-inflating statement like that. “Um Paris, I like, throw up in my mouth just a little when I listen to it, it’s so bad. Um, did I say bad? I like, um, meant laughable, as in it makes ME laugh to think that YOU THINK you have a modicum of talent. Um, did I say modicum? Sorry. It means just a little bit.”
That’s exactly what I would say to Paris Hilton and I would say it in a high pitched baby voice as if I were talking to my pet cat or some very irksome child, which is why no editor is ever going to give me access to the lodging heiress/actress/author—she has allegedly written two books. Probably in crayon. I don’t know, I’ve never seen them, I’ve never read them, nor do I know of anyone who has.
The point is: who cares about access? I care about integrity. And this person whose sole claim to fame is that she’s famous has no integrity. Her friend Jessica Simpson, however, has no identity. At least not on her album. I can’t speak to how she behaves in person. I’ve never met her. I do admit though, she is pretty; in that sort of magazine stand shoved-down-your-throat definition of beauty.
Trivia: the phrase “I’m sexy” recurs 17 times in three different songs on Paris’ shitty debut, including “I’m so, so, so sexy,” but not “I’m hot” or “she’s sexy.”
Note to Paris: “Stick to amateur porn, you’re better when something is going into your mouth than when something is coming out of it.”
I recently read a quote from Pulitzer, “Journalists should have no friends.”
It was a liberating discovery. As such, I’d like to say,“Fuck Jessica Simpson. Fuck Paris Hilton. Fuck Lenny Kravitz. Fuck Morissey. Fuck Abba.” I’d rather be lonely than hang out with those assholes.
Reading Chuck Klusterman is not helping me with my mouth either. His opinionated stance on most everything is infecting me with a sense of “Who gives a shit. After all, a good journalist should have no friends…”
Speaking of friends, you want to hang out, listen to music and drink beer? We can make fun of Paris Hilton and Jessica Simpson (Her press kit came with a color 8X10 photo, perfect for masturbating… But we don’t have to do that.)