Pink’s ultimate statement as an artist now with The Truth About Love, in Funhouse and everything beyond (besides saying “fuck you” most of the time), is actually very endearing. She aims to teach us about the perils and promises that come with love and the bounty that can flourish from it. And though her marriage may not be perfect, it’s brave for her to express its weaknesses to the world with honesty. Listeners can play along with the Jekyll-and-Hyde bipolarity she endures, basking in the brightness her voice brings us both in feisty bangers and endearing solos.
“Blow Me (One Last Kiss)” was the post-baby rebound of energy we were destined to hear from the fearless songstress, however quickly it came. The fast-paced “don’t-let-love-get-you-down” anthem was a bit aggressive at first, but in The Truth About Love’s context, its message totally makes sense.
Nothing makes more sense than what comes after, though. “Try” is P!nk’s “Who Knew” of 2012, and it teaches us to calm down and embrace our efforts, accompanied by the empowering words she was meant to grace with her smoky vocals. Listen for yourself and don’t let anything spoil your first listen with any expectation (but feel free to revel in its glory).
And like her common comparison, Kelly Clarkson, P!nk gains strength in her voice as she continues. Her solemn ballad “Beam Me Up” is just as gorgeous as her previous “Glitter In The Air,” glory that stretches from end to end and brings joy to the atmosphere. Look for “The Great Escape” to get you just as high. Its rawness is purely amazing.
Certain anthems along P!nk’s latest efforts aren’t characteristic of the singer, but because of shared producer Max Martin, the ever-soulful yet pop-driven diva sounds a lot like other pop stars at times. But in the unexpected duet with Fun. singer Nate Ruess “Just Give Me One Reason,” it sounds entirely alternative — and it works. We hear another familiar voice in “True Love” later on, as Lily Allen (now Cooper) is her dirtymouthed British counterpart, and the two are like peas in a pod. The result is fittingly synergetic.
Sprinkled throughout The Truth About Love are your average Pop blunders, the ones that’ll go unnoticed in the long run. They don’t suck enough to bring the album down with them but you can guarantee they won’t earn half as much play time. The substantially weak title song “The Truth About Love” has a melody that’s forgettably difficult and terribly unfortunate. At least P!nk makes it easy to discern between the quality and the unmentionable along the record, but it’d be nice to be able to enjoy every track.
Full of man-hater anthems in the style of “So What,” it’s refreshing to know that this album isn’t entirely about Pink’s post-baby happiness. She got right back to work and didn’t skip a beat. The Truth About Love is part spit-fire slamming shaming of lesser-thans, part expression of newfound happiness in her family life and the rest is general pop gold. All throughout, P!nk’s vocals completely slay, too, most of all when she’s all by herself in a relaxed setting. How she managed to tie them together in a giant music party is anyone’s guess, but it doesn’t matter as long as everyone’s invited.
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