More world-stomping bubblegum with (checklist please) the usual touched-up meccano beats, rather prettier melodic flourishes than we’ve had from Brit lately, no Titanic weep-out middle bit, and, oh, some very interesting lyrics: she’s winning and the world’s spinning, but what happens when it stops and why does she cry when the lights go out? It’s all in the third-person, naturally: any other way the angst-weight would outbalance the froth and the song would topple over just like Eminem’s unpleasant pityfest “Marshall Mathers” does. But this way Lucky gets to stand for Existentialist Britney, and who’s to say she doesn’t feel stardom’s hollow ache just as much as, ooh, Eddie V. did? (Back when he was a star, of course). In fact come to think of it, “Lucky” is better than any other I’m-a-pop-star-and-I-hate-it bitchfest I can remember, not a difficult achievement I’ll grant you, but it’s still nice of Britney to come along with tungsten-plated pop like this to show the fringey boys how it’s done.