She's not so much an artist now as a corporate entity. Kylie is as recognisable and ubiquitous as Starbucks, so familiar a presence that her surname became redundant years ago. Even Britney - who, in a spooky marketing 'coincidence', releases her fourth LP this very same week - hasn't yet had the courage to drop her Spears. (Just how many other Britneys could she possibly be confused with?)
The key to Kylie's success, of course, is constant reinvention. One of the commandments of pop would seem to be 'do unto yourself as Madonna would have done to her' and although she isn't quite in Madge's league of endless, mimetic makeovers, Kylie's keenly aware that time is more than capable of kicking her pert ass and that she must therefore keep moving.
Cue the Princess of Pop's ninth studio album. Cast now as Brigitte Bardot, Kylie coos, whispers and kittenishly aspirates her way through 'Body Language' in a manner that makes Jane Birkin sound like Andrew WK. She's never been a belter, of course, but the sexually suggestive, self-conscious breathiness quickly palls, while the question as to why a 30-something woman might agree to be made to sound like a ten year-old girl is perhaps one best not asked.
Having hired a team of disparate writers and producers - Emiliana Torrini, Cathy Dennis and Kurtis Mantronik included - Kylie's gone electro. An ill-judged move, maybe, considering that this particular bandwagon is already rolling out of sight, but she's kept in pop character and, after discovering the gold-dusted gloriousness of 80s disco, has given it a cheese topping of Duran Duran, one-hit wonders Nu Shooz and - even less glamorously - Dead Or Alive.
A copy of Madonna's 'Erotica' was also clearly kept close by ('Loving Days' could be an outtake), alongside Michael Jackson's 'Off The Wall' (check out 'Sweet Music', where Kylie attempts a Justin T and the execrable, Dennis-penned pastiche, 'After Dark'). Heaven knows what the godlike Green Gartside (of Scritti Politti) was thinking when he agreed to guest on the insipid 'Someday'.
It's not all bad news - 'Slow' is a sexy but splendidly subtle first single and 'Chocolate' so lush and ludicrously layered a confection that it's actually a real treat. There is, however, nothing that remotely touches the pop genius of 'Can't Get You Out Of My Head' and, by the halfway mark, the album's sagging badly. 'Body Language' confirms what we already knew: Kylie is a singles sprinter, not a marathon talent.
