Clara Bizna$$ (Hand Job Academy) Talks Demi Lovato’s Confident

Former child star Demi Lovato is the boss now. This is her game. Her new album, Confident is a don’t-call-it-a-comeback/nobody-tried-to-make-me-go-to-rehab-I-went-on-my-own-damn-volition album — and an album of sexual awakening. This “rebellion” won’t send her tween fans running to buy cigarettes, rubbers and punk albums just yet, but they might just clean out the Joan Jett for Forever 21 collection (whenever that becomes a thing).

A non-teen myself, Confident came into my life at the perfect moment — several years into sobriety, I’m experiencing a period of change marked by artistic and career developments as well as self-discovery and changing relationships.

I break up my first listen of Confident into chunks, starting with my long-ass commute to work. Confident’s title track opens with big ol’ trap trumpets, followed immediately by a thunderous, imagine-Kanye-as-band-director pep rally build. What is that melody? It could be a sweet dream or a beautiful nightmare, but Demi Lovato’s big, powerful voice is the real star here.

“What’s wrong with being confident?” Miss Lovato demands. If you answer with anything other than “nothing,” you’re a dick. Your argument is invalid. This song is unfuckwithable. Did it put pep in my strut as I boarded the M train? In a word: “YASSSSSSSS.” Did I just go through a breakup and cut all my hair off and this is now kind of my anthem? Maybe. Am I releasing my own personal freak and reclaiming my confidence? Fuck duh I am. I’m a teenager in a thirtysomething’s body. I’m along for this ride.

OK, so what’s happening in the second song of the album, “Cool for the Summer”? It’s a dubsteppy EDM track that slaps — and features some cheeky and layered lyrics: “Even if they judge, fuck it/I’ll do the time” and “Don’t be scared ’cuz I’m your body type.” Is she singing from the point of view of a horny high school teacher in love with a student? Is she singing about experimenting with a girl? She’s publicly struggled with body image issues and eating disorders, so is this a “Yeah, I’m thick, you mad?” song? Demi’s compelling here because she’s not being vulgar, but she is being coy. Whatever it’s about, the song is hot. It appeals to my nascent cougar status. It’s what I’ll play when I’m preparing to “Netflix and chill” with someone a decade younger. (You mad?)

“Old Ways” sounds icy and Scandinavian to me somehow. Demi even has a slight accent, reminiscent of Rihanna’s vocals on “Diamonds,” which sounded kind of like Lykke Li. With this song, Demi is letting her naysayers know that she’s not going back to her “old ways.” She peppers the track with BDSM double entendre, referring to chains and restraint, but she also gets serious with the lyrics: “But if somebody tells me/I’ll go back to my old ways/I’m gonna say no way.” The assertive thump drives the obvious message home. I get it: sometimes the only thing keeping you from a relapse is pride — if you slip up, you’re letting your doubters win.

“For You” is all climax until the Enya-ish bridge. The vocals crescendo and it sounds a little like we’re listening to Demi’s vocal warm-up. The triumphant, Kelly Clarkson-esque vocals almost mask the very dark story of a codependent, abusive relationship. “I’d do anything for you,” she sings. She would “put (her) fist through a wall” for “you.” (Rock & roll!) Still, “you” isn’t all that appreciative: “How can I stick around when I break down?” Demi sings. “I take the blows like a champion, but I get nothing at all.” At the moment, I don’t feel these feels, so the track isn’t resonating for me. I guess I’d rather hear this topic handled by Lana Del Rey, backed by soaring retro strings and seasoned with sighs and images of badder boys.

“Stone Cold” hit my eardrums when I’m almost to the office and…sorry, but I can’t divorce the title from wrestler “Stone Cold” Steve Austin. “I was your amber but now she’s your shade of gold,” Demi sings, and now I’m just thinking about Cold Stone Creamery. Mmm, ice cream.

“Kingdom Come” is like Sia’s “Chandelier” — if it were reimagined for a stage version of The Canterbury Tales. So. Many. Crescendos. It’s all so…epic. No, but really, what is this “Hey nonny, nonny”-ass-sounding shit? Is this what Ren Faire performers bump to get hype before a joust? Demi’s clear and airy non-screamy high notes almost save the track, but then I remember that Iggy Azalea contributed a verse and now I’m dreading/anticipating it with morbid curiosity. “Never catch a Blue without Steve,” she raps. Wait, did she just make a Blue’s Clues reference??? Good day, Lady Felicia.

I’ve reached the middle of the record and the middle of my workday when my stamina starts fading — that’s when “Waiting for Ya” kicks in. It’s all strip club and dollar bills production and vocals, and I’m back in the game — and so is Demi, who comes out swinging and singing: “When the lights go down/And the sun hits ground/You should know that I won’t back down.” OK, maybe she’s not swinging, exactly, but she is letting her bully — rumored to be fellow pop star Miley Cyrus — know that she’s not budging. It’s a little slow to jump rope to, but maybe it’ll be good for the stretch during the warm-up. I’ll play it while I pray for my haters.

I finish out the record after work, settling into my bed in my grownuppish apartment, the only blatant teen girl trapping a couple of strands of Christmas lights. I’m slightly embarrassed that my metal dude neighbor might hear me listening through the wall, but there’s no such thing as a guilty pleasure, right? (I’ve seen him do Dr. Dre and Nate Dogg at karaoke. He killed it.) “Lion Heart” opens with a misheard lyric that I plan to rip off for my own music — I swear she says, “Your lighter’s in sodomy.” Yeah, that’s so not what this is about. The lyrics are actually: “You’re in my veins” and “Your voice is serenity.” When I hear this song I project my own recovery experiences onto it. Demi got sober. Demi cut herself. Demi has daddy issues. Which brings us to “Father”…

The closing track takes us to church with an emotional tribute to Demi’s late dad, from whom she was estranged for several years. Biiiiiig high notes and a choir fill out this song about forgiveness. “I prayed for your peace, even if you started this/This whole war in me,” she sings. Our families know how to push our buttons because they installed them. Does Demi blame Dad for her struggles? If she did once, she forgives him now. “Sometimes I think I hate you,” she sings, but she’s making amends, too: “I’m sorry.” Maybe I got a tear in my eye. Maybe I emailed my own dad just to say “hi.”

Demi’s grown and sexy now with Confident. She’s come a long way in her twenty-three years. As the last track on the record ends, I find myself wishing that I had had the self-knowledge to clean up my act by her age — but then, I wasn’t a child star, thrust into the spotlight and barraged with judgments about my appearance, acting chops, clothing and personal life. Her experience may be different from other young addicts, but her music speaks to anyone who has lived through suffering from shit self-esteem, self-harm and addiction. If she breaks through to just one young fan (or one grown adult, hi there), she might actually save a life. Maybe she’s flirted with darkness, but now she’s Confident…and she’s helping me get there, too.