More people seem to be invested in Miley Cyrus’ trip to adulthood and maturity than will vote in the election. Ever since her conception at the hands of the robots at Disney, Miley’s been sheathed with the unavoidable fixation of the media and the unyielding adulation of fans everywhere. From the iniquitous Vanity Fair pictures to other shots of Miley in various stages of undress, her maturation has been a veritable goldmine for our celeb-obsessed culture and pervy granddads.

All the while, Ms. Cyrus has been coated in the ditzy gloss of Disney mania. Given the mantle of the Innocent Teen, Miley betrayed us all by acting like the Normal Teen and getting busted cold for it. The truth came crashing down like a ton of glitzy bricks: Miley Cyrus was ours and she blew it.

This girl can’t grow up. Not yet. We’re not prepared.

So Miley apologized for the Vanity Fair stuff, denied a few rumours here or there, and was back in our good graces right up until the moment she started talking about a Sex-less show and her new album. Her new one was going to be more adult, more mature, and it was going to have nothing to do with that Hannah Montana crap.

Uh-oh.

Called Breakout, Miley’s latest is amazingly quite good and often very telling. The most evident and distinguished characteristic of the album is her voice. It’s quite good, not “OMFG good” just yet, but it’s certainly quite satisfying to listen to. And she’s not afraid to take risks with it. I expect she’s able to exhibit her vocal qualities better than any member of Danity Kane. Yeah, I went there.

Don’t worry, parents, Miley’s not going all Madonna on your asses. The “provocative” nature of Breakout is largely confined to being dissatisfied, missing out on life a little, and kissing boys… ever so lightly… on the cheek. No bare skin, no backseat romps, no drugs, no smuggling immigrants across the border in the back of Billy Ray’s pickup truck.

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