Album Review - Ke$ha's CANNIBAL

If you're brave and daring, or just have a 9-year-old sister that doesn't know any better, pick up a copy of Cannibal on iTunes.

I've been waiting for a new set of speakers for about a week now. I ordered them on November 30th, foolishly believing they would arrive in 5-7 business days like the shipping itinerary indicated, but tragically my music listening experience was stifled on a daily basis every time I would visit the FedEx website and find my package in a perpetual state of delay. What did I do to be treated so cruelly by the shipping gods? Is this because I quit UPS that one time without giving them my two week notice? It wasn't until I started my latest review that I realized my speaker scenario was something completely different - the universe was trying to protect me from Ke$ha's Cannibal.

I'm about to admit something that I haven't ever uttered out loud before. I didn't hate Animal. In fact, I would even say that "loathe" would have been too forgiving after my first experience with Ke$ha's debut, but somehow "Tik Tok" grew on me, much like an ugly child whose face I had grown accustomed to. Apparently, a little face paint can go a long way.

Unfortunately, Cannibal lacks the same charm of Animal, and feels more like a desperate attempt from the out of touch drunk guy who's trying to keep the party going at 7AM on a Monday morning while the rest of his friends are getting ready for work. Sure, promiscuous party nihilism can be endearing for a moment, but Ke$ha's speak-sing delivery quickly kills the mood before the EP has a fair chance to get the ball rolling. "We R Who We R" is a recycled attempt at a relevant single, carelessly throwing uninspired lyrics at a mediocre electro dance beat and a myriad of vocal effects in a futile attempt to prevent the listener from noticing the black hole of talent afforded on this disc.

The rest of Cannibal, tragically, goes downhill from there, mixing the worst of Aqua with lyrics reminiscent of some forgotten 90's pop-punk band. Not the one that you might listen to in a fit of nostalgia - I'm talking about "it's so terrible the start-up indie label operating out of some guy's garage won't even touch it" music. Throw that in a blender with some extra tracks leftover from Animal and an overly confident producer bringing a King Midas (out of) touch to the table, and presto - you now have a copy of Cannibal.


Followup: After finishing this review, I was fortunate enough to come home to a lovely package on my doorstep. It was my speakers. The universe works in mysterious ways.