KYLIE MINOGUE — Can’t Get You Out of My Head

It’s an obsession. The way her body jerks around when she dances, like a broken robot, like the beat’s forcing her to move more than she wants. The look in her eyes, as inviting and dangerous as the hypnotic allure of a vampire’s shocking red lips and heaving bosom when you’re nothing more than a simple man of simple means trying to sell some real estate. And that beat, crusing down the autobahn, through the tunnels, punctuated by the pulse of the lights and passing cars, and back out into a noonday sun, shattering the windshield, so bright your teeth start to ache. When she sighs ‘Won’t you stay?’ I think of Sting crooning ‘I’ll be watching you,’ except Sting would never let himself sound so desperate and confused. (And he only wishes he could sound so alive.) When she sighs ‘Set me free,’ I’m not sure if she’s willing to taste freedom. I don’t know whether she’s aching for what she once held or suffering under the weight of an unrequited passion. I don’t think she knows, either. I don’t think she cares.