Here's a statistic. Atomic Kitten have now had three number one singles, yet more proof that chart success has become a debased currency. That they have done it with a song as unimaginative and life-sappingly dreary as their version of 'The Tide Is High' is a cause for national shame. To put this into context, three number ones is the same as Bowie has achieved in a 25 year career, and much more than, say, Janet Jackson, New Order or R.E.M.
Other than the solid girls-night-out pop of breakthrough hit 'Whole Again', their success is entirely mysterious. Lacking the sultry sass of Sugababes, the razor sharp instincts of Kylie, even the youth club charm of S Club, Atomic Kitten are like the fairly pretty but deeply dull girl to be found listlessly dancing at any party.
And 'Feels So Good' is the cheap Lambrusco that that girl brought with her: it starts off fizzily enough, but quickly becomes flat and saccharine.
Opening track, 'It's Okay', is certainly the best song to be found here, a confident, bright-eyed little tune, with a slinky production and intelligent harmonies that wouldn't have shamed All Saints in their glorious heyday. 'Love Won't Wait', surely the next single, is slick, catchy and playful, aiming for the same Friday night dance floors that the Spice Girls once ruled, and almost hitting the target.
But all good will is squandered by the current number one, 'The Tide Is High'. One of Blondie's weakest moments in the first place, here it is systematically drained of all vigour and personality, a low point from which the album doesn't recover.
The rest of the album lurches uneasily between atonal party music like the title track (which, to Kylie's shame, bears her songwriting credits), and anaemic balladry like 'Love Doesn't Have To Hurt'. And even if it isn't big or clever to poke fun at pop lyrics, its hard to help observing that if their tears really do ''cut so deep", Atomic Kitten should probably invest in more expensive mascara.
Though the majority of 'Feels So Good' is the kind of muzak you would hear in hell's own lifts, there are a couple of more interesting moments. Jenny Frost pens two tunes, the stripped-down, deadpan electronica of 'Baby Don't U Hurt Me' and the clubby, slinky 'So Hot', and reveals an unexpected talent for sex-pop. And closing track, 'No One Loves You (Like I Love You)', is arrestingly melodramatic, proving you can take the girls out of stage school but you can't take stage school out of the girls.
Here's a statistic. 28 songwriters are credited with the making of this record. Couldn't a few more of them have remembered to bring tunes?
