Judging Britney the same way you’d judge Dylan or Elliott Smith is like taking a baseball bat to a cricket game.
It’s Dylan at his dandiest, the least earthy version of Dylans, the one least covered in dirt, self-applied or otherwise.
John is a music critic. Write John, write!
Smith’s songs were populated by back alley losers, moving in a moonlit world of cashed checks, track marks, and bad luck.
I’m not saying Sleigh Bells are visionaries. I just think they’re paying very close attention. They push the logics of consumerism/consumption/celebrity to their breaking point, a grotesque extreme that would qualify as parody if it didn’t feel so real.
Critics have been falling over themselves to praise their special brand of retro R&B mixed with retro MOR and it will surely only be a matter of time before teenagers find out about them too.
There are no simple truths here. There is just a millionaire recording artist with time on his hands, recording songs that he enjoys singing.
I actually thought that great Australian music begins and ends with the twin cultural hotspots of Hobart and Brisbane
This appears to be the opposite of crazy. It’s mundane. Why would somebody describe their encounters with normal everyday situations and then call themselves crazy? Why indeed. They’d have to be delusional.