After years of legal wrangles, the former purveyor of pop fodder delivers a strong third album that deserves to be a hit
Anyone wanting to sing outside the privacy of their own shower ought to be handed a tablet rammed with memoirs and biopics, featuring the cautionary tales of Tina Turner (abusive partner), Ronnie Spector (ditto), Britney Spears (mental health issues), Mariah Carey (controlling partner), Amy Winehouse (drugs), and now, Kesha Sebert (case ongoing). They should familiarise themselves with the business debacles of Prince (label woes), Leonard Cohen (thieving associate), the Stone Roses (contractual nightmares) and Brian Wilson (abusive therapist) and seriously reconsider small animal veterinary practice.
If poetic justice exists, Kesha’s Rainbow, her third album, would be a world-beating hit. It would be proof that people really want to listen to the authentic feelings of women – Kesha’s killer comeback song, Praying, say – rather than lubricious fantasias of catchy party pop. You might remember the bratty Tik Tok, or (cough) Your Love Is My Drug, or any of Kesha’s trashy chart-fodder under the aegis of Lukasz “Dr Luke” Gottwald, the producer who directed Sebert’s early success before a flurry of lawsuits – alleging rape, drugging and more – started flying.