What Jessica Simpson lacks as a pop star (ie everything that counts) she more than makes up for as a comic genius. Anyone who has seen her turn as a simpleton hick catapulted into reality TV fame in The Newlyweds will be familiar with her brilliant comic timing, but "In This Skin" reveals a satirist of true depth.
It's the liner notes and thank yous that give the game away, a merciless parody of the inanity of modern celebrity. Over 1,200 words Simpson manages to lampoon the gushing gratitude ("the most amazing and talented person in the entire music business"), saccharine sentiment ("You are my soul mate, the vision of a picture perfect world") and nonsensical musings ("Don't listen to the thoughts that forsake you") which are de rigeur for US pop princesses.
The true genius, however, is coupling these sentiments with these songs. "Enjoy my journey. Enjoy my happiness," is hilarious by itself, but read while listening to the joyless, entirely unmemorable "You Don't Have To Let Me Go" it becomes comedy gold. How fortunate that the song is wrapped in the kind of glossy, shiny FM production from which you can easily wipe vomit.
Her brilliantly schmaltzy vocal technique is the crowning touch, a voice which never hits a note when it can drop a nuclear bomb on it, punctuated by Dion gasps and moans. Robbie William's "Angels" has never been on particularly good terms with subtlety, but Simpson's cover wittily piles on gloopy layers of orchestration and a quivering vocal that expose it for the hammy horror it is.
The rest of the album is a series of cruel pastiches of the FM flam that fills US pop airways. Diane Warren, the Mozart of MOR, is cleverly exhumed for the aimless "Sweetest Sin" while there is vicious competition between "I Have Loved You" and "Everyday I See You" for which can flee your memory cells first. Most hilariously awful of all is a slowed down version of Berlin's horror hit "Take My Breath Away" - less a cover than a car crash.
Only twice does Simpson's comic gift fail. First single "With You" is far too breezy and pleasant to work as satire, while the Timbaland crunches and Mirwais acoustic flourishes of "Forbidden Fruit" actually sound great, undermining the whole exercise. Luckily, for most of the record Simpson hits her awful mark, creating the first great comedy album of the 21st century.
