In pop music, beyond the banal ballads and bubble gum of break-ups and crushes, we sometimes find the serious artist whose words give pause.

One such artist, Lady GaGa tells narratives, which resonate when the music's over. If The Doors and Dylan, The Beatles and The Byrds captured 1960s zeitgeist, Gaga is the spokeswoman of the 21st Century. Commentaries on selected songs follow:

Just Dance

"Just Dance," from the award-winning The Fame album (her magnum opus) captures the depths of a young person's insecurity. Vying for the affection of discerning suitors, a self-conscious GaGa confides, "I can't believe my eyes/So many women without a flaw."

Not since Springsteen, has an artist lent a stronger voice to the working class. Like those who work graveyard, GaGa does not clock out till dawn's break: "I'm gonna hit it and flex and do it until tomorrow." "Twirlin up them hips," she delivers a simple, yet profound message: stay the course, persist, overcome. Just dance.

"Just Dance" then meditates on the crippling effect of the mobile-phone, in a powerful preamble to the superlative tune, "Telephone. " Saying, "I've had a little bit too much... I can't see straight anymore," GaGa alludes to minds intoxicated by cellular dependence. The bemused protagonist cries, "where are my keys, I lost my phone." The phrasing encapsulates a decidedly contemporary struggle: where once we needed only safeguard our keys, now we must keep track of our phones, too. The allegorical discotheque fittingly underlines the message: keeping your phone is doubly challenging in pocketless club attire.

Telephone

In "Telephone," once again, GaGa leaves her head on the dance floor. With guest-vocalist, Beyonce, the chanteuse visits a club where cell-phone calls lay siege. The "cell"--a once technological-marvel is a prison cell. "Telephone" takes overdue issue with this pernicious accoutrement. In the transcendent bridge, R&B beauty, Beyonce does not acquiesce to demands to answer "faster;" such roads spell "disaster" (when you're trying to get your groove on). GaGa concludes, "Call all you want, but there's no one home, And you're not gonna reach my telephone." Empowering.

Paparazzi

"I'm your biggest fan, I'll follow you until you love me." Like invasive creditors, the titular celebrity photographers invade the lives of our citizenry, albeit that of the rich and famous kind. But isn't that the greatest offense to target our superiors? The term originates from the eponymous shutterbug, Paparrazo in Fellini's bohemian ode, La Dolce Vita. Ever since, paparrazi have turned sweet to bitter; yet GaGa turns the term on its head. Stalking was heretofore plain-creepy in pop: The Police swore that with, "Every Breath you Take... I'll be Watching You" and Sting's Lolita- muse prompted the admonition: "Don't Stand So Close to Me." But when your paparazzo is GaGa, wooing is welcome.

GaGa's songlist unfolds myriad other riches. I belatedly comprehend my high school English teacher. After wrapping Melville's Billy Budd, he concluded we'd forego the author's masterwork, Moby Dick. A single semester simply wouldn't suffice. In such manner, one regards GaGa's tour de force, "Poker Face." Blogatory confines cannot do it justice.

Next week: 23 year-old lyricist,Ke$ha on bouncing: "Now the dudes are lining up, 'cause they hear we got swagger, But we kick 'em to the curb unless they look like Mick Jagger...." Has Ke$ha seen Mick Jagger? Ah, certainly she has; seemingly superficial lyrics belie far greater meaning.

With apologies to Bret Easton Ellis.