Dear Kylie, please take me back: Private Sydney's letter to a legend

Take me back: Kylie Minogue.

Just over four years ago I wrote a letter – via this column – to Kylie Minogue.

It went like this: "This is probably going to hurt me a lot more than it hurts you and, trust me, I have given it a lot of thought … I have decided it's time we broke up."

The clincher had come after I heard her latest album Kiss Me Once and it came to the track Sexercise.

As I wrote to Kylie: "Here we are in 2014 and you are singing a song called Sexercise without a hint of irony, purring: 'If love's a drug, we're higher than stilettos'.

"Well, Kylie darling, I confess I cringed when I heard that lyric. Higher than stilettos? Seriously? You (or Sia, who is credited with writing the track) couldn't have come up with anything a little more, erm, insightful, after 45 years on planet Earth? This is the best you have after all those life experiences?"

Then I saw the music video that came with it, showing Kylie bouncing about on a medicine ball in said stilettos and raunchy leotard doing some sort of X-rated pelvic floor routine. I cringed.

There were the other tracks on Kiss Me Once, including Les Sex and Sexy Love. I started counting the number of times Kylie actually sang the word ''sex''. I lost count, but it was an awful lot of sex. The sort of volume one might have fantasised about having during one's hormone-charged youth, rather than moving into middle age.

The reaction from Kylie's legion of fans was swift and brutal, though not unexpected, with calls for me to "hand in your pink card", accused of being a sexist and ageist dinosaur … blah, blah, blah, the usual Twitter vitriol.

I was even eyeballed by Kylie's enraged publicist after I slipped into her concert in Melbourne just a few weeks later – well she was singing her past hits too, which I have always loved. In the VIP enclosure, I had to thrust Gina Liano and her bulletproof hair between us to act as my human shield.

I was disappointed that after all these years, Kylie did not seem to be evolving with her audience. I felt she was slavishly competing with pop stars half her age by "out-sexying" each other. To me, it seemed beneath her.

It didn't matter how many times she slipped into a pair of hot pants, the reality is more Millennials know Kylie Jenner than they do Kylie Minogue.

But what a difference four years makes.

Fast forward to today and I have been listening to Kylie's new album Golden, and I confess I have re-converted.

Clearly I am not alone – her new album went straight to No.1 in Australia and Britain (her first since 2010) simultaneously last week. She also reached No.2 in Ireland, No.3 in Germany, No.4 in Flanders, No.12 in Wallonia, No.14 in Italy, No.16 in New Zealand, No.18 in The Netherlands, No.38 in Sweden and No.64 in Japan.

Kylie has gone down the country music avenue,  all glitter and big hair, but don't expect her to turn up at Tamworth next year.

This latest incarnation is more Dolly Minogue than Kylie Swift.

She's even opened up on the promotional trail, revealing the tedious obsession with her age during her many interviews (are you reading Karl Stefanovic?).

On the cusp of turning 50, Kylie is hotter than ever without a pair of hot pants or a sweaty medicine ball in sight.

She deserves the success. Golden is a really great album; reflective and fun.

So here it goes: Dear Kylie, you've changed and I really like it. Please, please, pretty please, will you take me back?

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