P!nk - Funhouse (2009)

By Lisa Dib

I, like many others, have had my issues with Pink.

Some see her as the feminist flag waving pop rock dominatrix, others merely see an Anti-Britney marketing ploy in the guise of an oft scantily clad songstress.

I pendulum between the two, to be honest.

Although I seem to be one of perhaps thirty people not heading to see Pink in concert one of those seventy eight times.

"Funhouse" ticks all the boxes we have come to expect from Pink (I refuse to call her the grammatically heinous P!nk).

There are the shouty, arms in the air choruses, lyrical content covering partying and excessive drinking leading to mischief and physical mayhem (of violent and/or sexual nature both), and the token ballads of love lost, all in a nice funhouse/circus motif.

Those are quite popular now, are they not?

There is no Family Portrait here, but the Ballad Box is ticked quite nicely by the swaying, violin-ed I Don’t Believe You. Sung by your Taylor Swifts or Katy Perrys, I Don’t Believe You might come out watery and overly sentimental.

But in the hands of Pink - who, despite many criticisms, is an emotive and powerful vocalist - it is beautiful and sad.

So what if she has been on Video Hits?

The first single from the album, the Fall Out Boy lite So What is heaps catchy, and I found myself contemplating a trip to one of the 560 Pink shows at Rod Laver Arena to see the crowd really get into this one.

“I guess I just lost my husband, I dunno where he went” she states nonchalantly. “So, I’m gonna drink my money, I’m not gonna pay his rent”.

Ah, that's the Pink we know!

The album takes an ironic turn with second single Sober - a song about, in all its soaring chorus glory - alcohol abuse.

A moment of hypocrisy, some reviewers might note. Let us not hold it against her, though. We all make marketing mistakes. I once tried to sell that Paris Hilton DVD to people with eyes. Just not a niche market.

Ah, back on the debauchery.

“Alright, sir, sure I’ll have another one, it’s early; three olives, shake it up, I like it dirty” Pink growls in Bad Influence.

The clarity of Sober now gone in a haze of tequila, who knows what this album is trying to say. But you know, having a rare moment myself, who cares?

Bad Influence (like most of the tracks here) are terribly catchy, infectious in the best way. You just wanna dance. Oh, you do. Don't say you don't. Females will at least admit to it. Better lock the office door...

The album dresses in a decidedly alt/country vibe with Mean, though it is (coincidentally or not) one of the weaker tracks. Standard lyricism for Alecia Moore (a relationship taking a sour turn, even after all the fun times) but...meh.

Skip.

The album ends with the piano-laden Glitter In The Air, which displays a remarkable turn in songwriting for Miss Pink.

“Have you ever hated yourself for staring at the phone? Your whole life waiting on the ring to prove you’re not alone?” she sings in that delicate, sadly husky voice. It fulfils the right quota for a commercial ballad, but is quite nice without being sickly, sweetly sad.

Whether she really is the Mattel™ Punk™, or a bona fide performer who has been lucky to hit major commercial success, I don't particularly care. I am happy to keep Pink in my iTunes right in between Pink Floyd and Peter Andre - not because they are “cool”, not because they haven’t “sold out”, but because it makes me happy.

Screw everyone, Pink, you’re okay with me*.

* Just please don’t sing Dear Mr. President ever again.

RATING: 4 out of 5

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