Lady Gaga’s “The Fame Monster” will eat your heart and your brain.

Everyone’s googoo for Gaga, and for good reason.

PHOTO COURTESY INTERSCOPE RECORDS

PHOTO COURTESY INTERSCOPE RECORDS

John Sand

The Fame Monster ARTIST: Lady Gaga LABEL: Cherrytree Records With structured sequin headdresses, feathered Jean Paul Gaultier collars and leather-latex body suits, Lady GagaâÄôs wardrobe is the stuff of Alexander McQueenâÄôs dreams, but how does her fashion controversy line up with her new music? This week, Gaga released an addition to her debut album âÄúThe FameâÄù aptly titled âÄúThe Fame Monster,âÄù which features eight new tracks. Those first enamored by GâÄôs use of disco-inspired pop beats and reworked house music will find comfort in âÄúThe Fame MonsterâÄôsâÄù heavy bass lines and jazzy guitar solos. But what the album really offers is a peek into the hidden emotional side that the bedazzled starlet seems to hide under her alien-like getups. While she always retains a cool exterior, âÄúThe Fame MonsterâÄù tells of the darker aspects of in-the-spotlight success and rampant sexual prowess. Her new album refuses to linger on music about drinking, dancing and gushy love as did her debut single âÄúJust DanceâÄù and several of âÄúThe FameâÄôsâÄù other tracks like âÄúBeautiful Dirty RichâÄù and âÄúEh, Eh (ThereâÄôs Nothing Else I Can Say).âÄù Instead, Gaga channels several past and present stars from David Bowie to Christina Aguilera in a way that mingles the macabre with night-out glitz. Drawing from MadonnaâÄôs âÄúVogue,âÄù âÄúDance in the DarkâÄù twists the 1990 hit to invoke a discussion of verbal abuse and sex with the lights off. Gaga belts out, âÄúShe looks good, but her boyfriend says sheâÄôs a tramp … but she still does her dance.âÄù Later, she calls on Marilyn Monroe, Sylvia Plath, JonBenet Ramsey and even film director Stanley Kubrick, as if theyâÄôre foot soldiers of empathy. Though itâÄôs apparent that Lady Gaga need not rely heavily on autotune, her voice often borders on dispensable mimicry. The problem with trying to express a dark concept, is sometimes you inadvertently shift from electro-pop flaunting to high school-era, black-eyeliner angst. âÄúMonster,âÄù the albumâÄôs title-track, does exactly this in its best moments. Even though the beats sound like something lifted from BritneyâÄôs âÄúBlackout,âÄù the lyrics border on zombie-fiction as her woeful tale turns to a boy eating her brain. Though the album has its weak points âÄî âÄúTelephoneâÄù, featuring the ever-sparkling Beyonce, sounds like a track from a coked-out Gwen Stefani solo-album âÄî Gaga proves that she is the perfect pop-star hybrid. ItâÄôs even becoming safe to say that sheâÄôs this generationâÄôs Madonna. Unlike other starlets, she doesnâÄôt ooze sexy with the placid gaze of a blow-up doll, but she creates it herself, make-up artists and booking agents be damned. The American public can expect at least a few more slews of reinvention that musically, though probably not timeless, are accurate depictions our ageâÄôs tech-savvy lifestyle and materialistic luxury. Though the public seems to be divided over Lady GagaâÄôs otherworldly fashion and morbid performances, it remains clear that she understands the mechanisms of mass culture and is fighting her way toward stardom.