Let me introduce you to international pop-star phenomenon Robbie Williams: At age sixteen he was part of the mega-successful British boy-band, Take That (Remember the song “Back For Good”?). After a torrid break-up from the band and a near drug overdose, Williams left the guys to pursue a solo career which garnered immense success in Europe and many number one singles. His biggest-selling single, “Angels,” has been certified two times platinum, covered by Jessica Simpson and David Archuleta, and called the best British song in the last twenty-five years.
Williams has had hits on soundtracks for The Bridget Jones Diary and Finding Nemo soundtracks. His drug and alcohol rehab stints made all the world tabloids, as did his struggles with obesity and his escapades with the opposite sex. He has released seven albums to date with 6.3 million sold overall and been named Britain’s biggest-selling artist of the 21st century. He has collaborated with the likes of Kylie Minogue, Nicole Kidman, Lily Allen, and Jon Lovitz, and broke a Guinness World Record for selling 1.6 million concert tickets in one day. With such widespread international success, why is he practically unknown over here in the States?
It’s not that Robbie has not tried to break into fame across the Pond. He has released U.S.-only versions of past hit records and made all the right moves, but somehow none of his U.S. singles (”Angels,” “Millenium,” “Rock DJ,” or “Feel”) have even broken the Billboard Top 40. The dejection he has felt from not being able to cross over to the American market was dizzying for him at first, but eventually he embraced it and moved to L.A. where he is hardly ever recognized. He is currently dating American soap-opera star Ayda Field, and after three years of swearing off touring (due to panic attacks and anxiety), Robbie is back in the limelight with his seventh CD, Reality Killed the Video Star.
Incredibly cocky, but quick to mock his own image, Robbie named the album to not only poke fun at his own humanity, but also as a spin-off of the Buggles’ MTV breakthrough song “Video Killed the Radio Star.” (On a side-note, Williams actually recorded the album under the tutelage of Buggles’ lead singer and producer, Trevor Horn.) Recently under fire for his last electronic/dance themed album Rudebox’s poor performance, his latest switches the style up again to capture a brand new sound, mixed with the one that first made him famous. It is also one of his most mellow albums to date with eighty percent of the tracks being ballads or slow-tempoed pop hits.
Never far from controversy, Williams’ first single “Bodies” has made news by confusing fans (especially Christian ones) with Robbie questioning his Catholic upbringing and Jesus’ salvation. The song begins with Gregorian-like chants, includes many Biblical allusions, and then ends with a possibly internal conversation where Robbie sings “Jesus didn’t die for you” while the choir battles back “Jesus really died for you.” It treads a fine line of questioning and doubt, but brings up a lot of good talking points for a pop song. The second single “You Know Me,” which is probably an ode to how well his girlfriend knows him and still loves him, is a catchy, retro doo-wop number that should do pretty well.
This leads to the beautifully forlorn song, “Blasphemy.” It sounds as though it’s sung to either an estranged father figure or perhaps a failed lover, as he laments “deaf and dumb dinners” and why they still can’t get along. Now get right back on your feet again for the catchy number “Do You Mind,” which successfully stretches the seven-syllable refrain into at least eighteen staccato-infused beats.
The second half of the album takes an interesting turn. Instead of danceable pop and heartfelt ballads, Robbie tries to reinvent the late 70s in his own smooth, melodic way. Songs like “Last Days of Disco” and “Starstruck” leisurely plug along with a mellow, Abba-ish groove, but leave me wishing he’d pick up the tempo. “Difficult for Weirdos” does just that and brings the beat back for an extraterrestrial dance number and an ode to our androgynous twenty-first century in all its uniqueness. The disc ends where it began with a reprise of the alluring first track, “Morning Sun.” The whole album is a step in the right direction, but I miss the turn-of-the-century, The Ego Has Landed Robbie in all his past grandeur. With rumors of a Take That reunion looming, who knows what the future will hold?
