Britney, light of my life, fire of my loins. Not so long ago she was bouncing around in her bobbysocks belting out Baby One More Time; now shes a knowing nymphet whos reduced the last two VMAs to slobbering burlesques. Youve already heard the single Im a Slave 4 U, with its relentless bump-and-grind beat and kitty kitty catcalls, primed for the Top 40 and your local strip club. Well, thats the best that, like, Britney has to offer: Beneath tantalizing titles like Anticipating and Overprotected lurk the high school composition-book lyrics, the merciless electronic handclaps, and the glockenspielsmy God, the glockenspiels. Theres a shout-along cover of I Love Rock n Roll that goes to places Joan Jett could never take you, but otherwise its a tease. I dare you to play with me, Britney may coo on Lonely, but all shell be straddling are two groups of fans who appreciate her for drastically different reasons. And so what? If youve even glanced at that picture to your left, you understand what makes this record utterly unassailable. Youve ruined me, Britney. Look at this tangle of thorns.