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-- by Kim Stitzel, with additional reporting by SuChin Pak
"Don't count your chickens, you know?"
Thus spake Kylie Minogue as she made her whirlwind way around New York City promoting the U.S. release of Fever, answering her label's expectations that she would enter the albums chart at #1. "I think we're #10, maybe," she prognosticated warily. "It's all good. I don't want to put the pressure on #1."
She did a wee bit better than she'd thought. Fever — the eighth album proper by the Australian actress/singer/superstar, a pop culture icon seemingly everywhere but here — debuted at #3 on the Billboard 200. Hopefully everyone who chuckled over the notion of her closing Sydney's 2000 Summer Olympics has digested his or her hat by now.
Yes, she's that Kylie, the one who first squeaked into American consciousness nearly 15 years ago — the petite, toothsome teen in workout togs chirping out "The Loco-Motion" over herky-jerky beats manufactured by the Stock-Aitken-Waterman production team, headphones clamped over her crispy, Stiff Stuffed-up curls, singing her heart out in staged "in-the-studio" glory as if she were pouring her very soul into every cheery syllable.
That squeaky-clean Kylie, who quirked eyebrows by dating INXS frontman Michael Hutchence when he was at the peak of his powers, transforming herself into what the overseas press gaspingly dubbed "SexKylie" while everyone in the U.S. wondered, "What on Earth is he doing with her?" The same Kylie who starred in movies with — ack — Pauly Shore and Jean-Claude Van Damme, then went on to collaborate with goth poet king Nick Cave and proletarian rock resuscitators Manic Street Preachers. What on Earth are they doing with Kylie "I should be so lucky, lucky-lucky-lucky" Minogue?
The answer lies somewhere between the gutter and the stars...
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Photo: Capitol
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