these drippy bitches like Flo & Ke$h think they deserve to be famous. Good taste ? Where's the fucking bravery? Where's girls like I know , rather than the girls & guys I'd cross streets, change clubs, emigrate, to avoid. If pop is a club right now, I find myself walking past all the tables packed full of braying twats and simpering saps and desperate to recognise a friendly face, a real face, smart people who are a laugh, rather than all these desperately needy, charmless loudmouth ignoramuses and fucking students. Why would I be up in this club? It fucking sucks. The charts right now, and the 'club-friendly' pisspile that increasingly constitutes it, prove that half-knowledge is more annoying than dumbness, especially when it appeals to the proudly quarter-witted and smugly ill-informed experts known as the great brutish public. You are welcome to each other. This is Kelis' most 'European', club-friendly album and it's been infected by the same mediocrity that's currently making most of that club-friendly pop feel like it's on a checkout-conveyor to hell. The look, as ever, is crucial - the outfits on Flesh Tone 's sleeve fit Kelis' mix of the middling and modish perfectly. Half-decent, mainly bad, what happens when you let a model dress herself. Front cover -- as ever with K great face. Po(i)sed, looking beyond your shoulder, righteous combo of Dietrich ice & Crawford heat. Fab over-cooked headdress, the rest a Primark mess of mis-match and over complication where a block