Sunday, November 22, 2015

Domerberry Album Review: 25

This week, all of you lucky readers are getting two doses of Domerberry. I published a post on Friday about adult coloring books because I'd been holding that anger in for a long time and something needed to be said, but I also bought Adele's new album on Friday.

Friends, this has been a good year for Domerberry Review-able albums. I've finally discovered Hamilton in the past couple of weeks and could easily write about that. (Sparknotes version of that review: Angelica Schuyler is me.) I listened to The Weeknd's Beauty Behind the Madness like I was getting paid for it for about two months after that came out, which I could rant about for several straight days. A week ago, my boyfriend, Justin Bieber, released a new album, and whenever I get around to listening to that, I could surely write a small book of sonnets in its honor.

Ultimately, though, there is only one album that matters in this Year of Our Lord 2015, and that is Adele's 25. 

Our queen finally emerged from her four-year hibernation this weekend to drop 25, and with it, to slay all seven billion of her unworthy servants here on earth.

I have basically no general remarks to make on this album. I certainly don't have the kind of measured criticism I laid out for Tay Tay's 1989, because either A) this album is literally free of flaws, which is what I'm inclined to believe, or B) I am so entirely blinded by my glee over Adele's return that I am incapable of seeing problems in the album, in my fellow man, or, in fact, in anything at all.

With that entirely reasonable introduction, let us dive in to analysis of some key tracks. First, we have the album's opening track and ubiquitous first single:

Hello. I still have no idea what order the lyrics come in for the chorus of this song. Is she on the outside? Is she on the other side? I don't know. I don't care. Adele can be where she wants. I will continue to sing along with lyrics like, "Hello from the othoutside."

Send My Love (To Your New Lover). This is the upbeat Adele pop number slash vocal warmup I never knew I needed. Oddly, this is also the only song on the album that I really identify with. I expected to cry a lot over this album thinking of guys I've dated or, more realistically, had overwrought, futile crushes on, but none of the songs really called to mind any of my former beaux/obsessions. This one, though, I dig. Send my love to whatever chick you're with now and please be nice to her. Let's not be children.

Yeah, I'm as surprised as you are by this reaction. I have achieved self-actualization, and Adele has provided me with my new, self-actualized anthem.

When We Were Young. Okay, I like this song, but I have a conspiracy theory to put forth: there's literally no way that Adele is 27. That is what she and the Internet claim. Less than four years older than me. Ha. That's an utter lie; Adele is several millenia old and masquerading as a twenty-something. This song, which sounds from start to finish like something a seventy year old person would say, is a barely-concealed reference to her true age.

Remedy. Every time that the title word comes up, I think she is going to say "Enemy." This is probably proof that I am incapable of love.

River Lea. I eagerly await a Logansport-themed parody of this song entitled "River Eel." "There was something in the water, now that something's in's meth."

Million Years Ago. Further proof of Adele's agelessness. That title ain't hyperbole, folks.

All I Ask. This piano-driven power ballad is Adele's official application for acceptance in the Diva Hall of Fame. It is a good old fashioned belt-it-out banger. If Glee and Smash are still on television, they will cover this within the month. If they're not still on television, they'll return just to cover this song. If you listen closely, you can hear the great divas silently weeping in the background of this track over the fact that it wasn't written for them. That key change. That over-dramatic closing line, "What if I never love again?" At the Grammys next year, I want Adele, Celine Dion, Barbra Streisand, and a back-from-the-grave Whitney Houston to sing this together. And I want someone to record it so it can be performed via hologram at my funeral.

No, you can't stream this album, but $10.99 is a small price to pay for it. Go present your dues to your queen.

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