While the singer’s intentions may be direct, the album fails to live up to its self-assured namesake.
Fireflies is less an “album” than a goddamn dissertation on everything rotten at the core of mainstream country music.
A great Christmas present for Mom, unless of course she’s a “castrating Manhattan career bitch,” in which case you’ll want to opt for the pinecone vibrator.
As with so much of this muddled remake’s societal critique, the film’s satire is sloppy and vague.