You'll love Brooke Hogan's latest, The Redemption, if your taste in music was honed while drunkenly bar hopping on Washington Avenue. The album is about as charming as pole dancing for an ass-grab-happy crowd during Calle Ocho. And it's as sophisticated as the cover art which would look more appropriate adorning the hood of a Honda, a Veladora candle, or an oversized T-shirt worn by a chonga at the Mall of the Americas while she's waiting in line for an arepa than on a CD...for purchase.
Auto-tuned and over mixed to hell, one wonders while listening to The Redemption if an actual instrument was used during the recording process aside from Brooke's vocals. Which, in all honesty are pretty decent. She proves that she's got some kind of talent in the Billboard-friendly "You'll Never be Like Him", a likeable enough tune until you begin to digest it's relatively slutty message which is to ditch a rebound if he doesn't compare to your ex after he's gotten his grimy paws all over you. But then again, the opening track on the album is called "Strip". And the eighth is called "Handcuffed". And the ninth is called "Ruff Me Up" featuring Flo Rida, which this reviewer really liked when Britney Spears originally titled it "Womanizer."
Then there's "Dear Mom" Brooke's blatant slap in the face to the woman
who brought her into the world. In this sweet ditty, the wanna-be pop
tart paints her mother as a selfish monster who is to blame for the
unraveling of the Hogan clan. Brooke, who starts the song out with an
into that sounds like it was recited while she was engaged in some kind
of sexual act, illustrates herself as an innocent, loving daughter and
by-stander. Yet, the odd thing is that mid-song a recorded fight --
which one can assume is via the reality show, Brooke Knows Best --
between Brooke and Linda is used to further drive Dear Mom's crux. This
leaves one to wonder if Brooke is even aware of the fact that she's
been in not one, but two reality shows which have both done more harm
to the Hogans' reputation than her mom's taste for 19-year-old boys has
Brooke, or as your father so lovingly calls you, Brooktini, since there
seems to be an utter lack of parental advice in your life, here's some:
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Do yourself and all of us a favor and stay away from the limelight for
a while. Collect yourself, deal with your family's issues, grow up a
bit, then come out with an album that has some kind of perspective.
That is, if you're serious about having any kind of redemption.