Rating: NNN
The otherwise likeably raunchy and bratty Pink is now officially walking a fine line, leaning dangerously close to the humdrum.
While her writing talents have improved greatly over the last few albums, her lyrics still ache with the standard mix of narcissism, self-loathing and angst – all now officially maudlin in their execution. A pity, since Pink is more than capable of carrying the rolling piano ballads, slick alt-pop and acoustic numbers that make up the bulk of Funhouse.
Even now I’m conflicted: should I overlook the lazy introspection of opening lines like “I don’t wanna be that girl,” “I don’t know if I could yell any louder,” “I dance around this empty house” and “I conjure up the thought of being gone,” and just settle on the strength and personality of her voice, the conviction in her delivery, and the otherwise catchy music? For the time being, yes.
