Rhapsody Reviews: Lady Gaga's The Fame Monster

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It's a deluxe album as only Gaga could do it: larger than life, over the top and, yes, even monstrous. The Fame Monster is stuffed to the gills with eight -- count 'em, eight -- new tracks. Most don't radically depart from her debut's uber-hipster dance-pop vibe, but they do reinforce Gaga's particular talents -- namely, making somewhat familiar musical ideas a wee bit edgy and a whole lot addictive. The vaguely tropical pop of "Alejandro," with its borderline-telenovela drama, for instance, is positively coated in "La Isla Bonita" and "Fernando" (down to the similar sound of its love object's name). It's so close, it's almost a cover -- and yet, something is slightly off. This is where Gaga lives, right smack in the midst of our comfort zone, where she sets up camp with the goal of screwing it up, just a little bit, just enough so that we feel not quite as certain of where we are. Then there's the Beyonce-featuring "Telephone." Now undoubtedly, this is a calculated collaboration from which both of these artists will benefit. And frankly, nothing about it is shockingly novel. But that's what's kind of interesting. Beyonce's cameo sounds every inch like a Beyonce track -- that's immersed in a track that's every inch Lady Gaga. Despite her relative youth as an artist, Gaga at once manages to pay tribute to those who have gone before her and yet make those influences her own.

That said, things get really interesting when The Fame Monster goes off in different directions. The strongly sung "Speechless" is conceptually similar, taking up and reworking earlier influences and references. This time, however, she gestures toward her glam foremothers, the very queen bitches after whom she named herself (although the track is decidedly more Elton than Bowie). And then there's "Teeth," which finally dips musically into the stylistic pool Gaga's perpetually swimming in: cabaret campiness. What's more, this saucy strut of a song shows off Gaga's not-insignificant vocal prowess. Kermit outfits and full facial masks notwithstanding, the Lady can sing, folks.

Although it provides us with plenty of shiny new jewels be distracted by, The Fame Monster also serves another purpose. It supplies an opportunity to revisit the rest of Gaga's debut -- by which we mean the tracks beyond the ones you can sing in your sleep already. And there's much to admire, from the decadently wasted "Beautiful, Dirty, Rich" to the sassy title track to "Brown Eyes," a slow jam as only Gaga can do it -- theatrical, glammily weird and slightly off. The album isn't perfect by any stretch, but at the very least, it demonstrates that Gaga knows what makes for the best pop: something comforting yet just a little challenging and, most of all, with a beat you can dance to.