There's some kind of mass amnesia amongst gossip writers that's allowed them to write countless wild child exposés of Britney of late. A little reminder: for her very first single, Miss Spears dressed up as a saucy schoolgirl and writhed around with her taut teenage stomach and erobicised thighs on show. Within weeks, she posed in her undies for David LaChapelle on the cover of Rolling Stone magazine. It was only ever her virginity that seemed to retard her public image, and if you really believe she and Justin sat around chastely practising dance steps together for years on end then you've never been a hormone-blinded adolescent.
The real story here, as the current single and album subtitle illustrates, is not the irrepressible rise of SexBritney but her recent bid for emancipation – from her vicariously ambitious parents, from her long-term manager, from the child-star treadmill she's been on seemingly since birth.
Janet Jackson pulled a similar move, eloping with James DeBarge in 1984 in a bid to escape the draconian rule of her father Joseph and live some semblance of a normal life. You can certainly see the reasoning behind Britney's initial refusal to sign a pre-nup – what price a bit of free time and simple happiness? How long she actually manages to escape the lure of the industry that made her "the Icon everyone says she is", to quote her Letter of Truth, is questionable, but on the strength of this stellar compilation she can luxuriate in a good few years away before anyone begins to forget about her.
The first four songs herein – "My Prerogative", "Toxic", "I'm A Slave 4 U" and "Oops!... I Did It Again" – are breathtakingly brilliant pop: the production, the strength and attitude of the vocal, the whole package. If there's a Best Of out this year with a better opening salvo, buy it in its billions. Thereafter, it becomes a bit uneven. "Me Against The Music" represents a misstep for both Britney and special guest Madonna, and will forever evoke French & Saunders’ exquisitely rendered (and ultimately much more entertaining) Christmas special spoof. "Stronger" follows as a reminder of the strangeness of Swedish-produced pop; all squashed, digitized vocals that make sexy young strumpets sound like they're auditioning for a polyp operation.
"Everytime", her second UK Number One this year, is a hauntingly lovely thing and, while no "Beautiful", is a reminder that there's a delicately nuanced voice behind all the studio trickery and body oil (see also the sappily sweet "Sometimes", "Lucky", "Don't Let Me Be The Last To Know", "Born To Make You Happy" and "I'm A Girl…", all included). "…Baby One More Time" is still incredible, catchy and sassy and a to-die-for debut (inexplicably turned down by TLC); bass-heavy mixes of "(You Drive Me) Crazy" and the Neptunes' "Boys" maintain the momentum. "Overprotected" hints at her present state of mind, while R. Kelly's smutty oriental-sounding "Outrageous" and the ill-advised cover of "I Love Rock'n'Roll" are probably the only unconvincing moments on the entire album. Finally, the previously-unreleased "I've Only Just Begun (Having My
Fun)" and "Do Somethin’" are a couple of bizarro '80s electro workouts well worth their inclusion, not least because they invoke Salt'n'Pepa.
A more discerning ten-track Best Of would, like the voice of the divinity in "Dogma", probably have sent the listener deaf with its pop perfection. Like an Amish blanket "Greatest Hits…" contains deliberate faults because only God is perfect, but even so it comes tantalisingly close.
