Kylie Minogue

The first words Kylie Minogue breathes heavily, only seconds into “More More More,” are give in. From then on, it’s futile to resist being beguiled by Kylie’s every sing-along-and-hate-yourself-later chorus on Fever, her umpteenth bid for the stardom she’s scored everywhere but America. (The Aussie’s biggest U.S. success thus far was a late-’80s top-ten cover of “The Locomotion”; the current equivalent would be Kelly Ripa covering “Macarena” and having a monster hit in Germany.) The apt song title “Can’t Get You out of My Head” applies to the entire slinky Europop album, on which the lightweight party never stops. Icky ballads are conspicuously absent — and Britney, Christina: please make note of the omission and learn a lesson from your superior, because there’s a reason Kylie’s still going after fifteen years. There’s a confidence Kylie possesses that the others lack, a self-assuredness that enables her to sound like more than a producer’s puppet. Give in? Okay. Fever is a guilty pleasure at first, but the guilt fades with each listen until only the pleasure remains.