Pardon my gush, but it’s true. She really IS a doll. She’s funny, she’s unpretentious, she’s blessedly drama-free in spite of everything she’s been through (how many pop stars can you say THAT about?), and she’s smart and nice, too. Oh, and she’s got the cutest accent — says fink and froat for think and throat. She’s feeling and singing better after her health woes of the past year. She’s happily over the dude that wrecked her (and inspired all those songs that make everybody bawl). And she doesn’t want to be “a skinny mini with my tits out”, which just totally flies in the face of everything the industry pushes where women are concerned. She may not have a supermodel figure like the late, lamented Whitney Houston, but she is damn gorgeous. When she sings, she doesn’t go in for high-energy theatrics, she just stands and delivers. And HOW. She puts it all into her voice, her eyes, and the palms of her expressive hands. And then she throws it out there for the world. If that’s not role model material, I don’t know what is.
All in all, Adele is the antidote to my Sartrean nausea where showbiz is concerned. She is one good egg. She deserves her success. She has my wholehearted approval.
And if you’re sick of the constant airplay her songs get (if not the songs themselves, which are just way too genuine to puke at), then my advice is to get away from Top 40 radio, like I do, and instead, listen to them when you NEED them. Save them for those times when nothing else will do. A good cry deserves a great soundtrack, and no one delivers it like she does.