Dear Christina,
How I hoped to never have to go public with this, but your reluctance to embrace your true musical identity as represented by a series of misguided and utterly depressing CDs—Bionic anyone?— has really forced me to spill the beans. Let me me offer heartfelt apologies in advance for breaking your confidence and sincerely say, at the risk of sounding didactic, that I am doing this for your own good. You see, with the truth exposed you just might be forced to acknowledge that the bulk of your discography is an act of treason against the great artist you longed to be but are clearly afraid of becoming. Clearly the failure of these albums, a series of increasingly misspent efforts chasing radio trends with exponentially more lackluster results (made worse with each album’s concomitant and public announcement that the new collection “truly reflects your personal growth and authentic self,”) has not chastened you.
While I know it’s fun to be a TV star and spin around in your chair on the The Voice after six hours of hair and make-up, this strikes me as a betrayal of your tremendous early promise. For Stargayzing readers, permit me to tell the story from the beginning, which will make my motives clearer and, at the risk of sounding grandiose, might give you pause to consider that you are, in fact, standing at a creative precipice.