You’d have to have been found swaddled in a wicker basket in a forest clearing and bought up and reared by wankers to ever consider this anything other than time-marking bollocks of the most tedious kind. Legends.
My god, can you imagine how tiny Robin Thicke’s dick is? Judging by his over-compensation it must be Clarkson small, Gervais small, with a couple of tiny balls looking like Murun Buchstansanger.
Nothing’s more heartbreaking than being reminded of a time when you thought you had a future, even if it was a no-future, fuck-everybody, gonna-die by the time I’m 30 kinda future.
The true sound of the UK, the true folk music of our time. Not a fuckin’ Alt-J fan among them and none of them are gonna end up running a fkn dairy-farm
“Music fans have to stop being so fucking menopausal” | An interview about teens, emos, chavs, music
Subcultures stop being creative as soon as they become aware of themselves as subcultures.
I thought pop music in this agile, ADHD age would never make me feel like this again, obsessed, living and loving and lurching and lounging in these songs to the exclusion of all else. But All Blackshirts To Me is one of those records that simply won’t become background, is impossible to live with rather than live within, a record you’d be a prick to ignore.
The sun ain’t gonna shine anymore. Suits me fine. Don’t know how to dress in summer so I’m hiding out in my jimjams playing with my 7”s like a teenage wank-addict.
In their own way, they’re Smiths good: a backhanded compliment if ever I wrote one.
Secretly, what modern mainstream pop-hackery confirms is that there’s a fundamental sadness to the role of music writer, or at least there is if you let it take hold – you are employed to basically be a hanger-on, an eavesdropper, a spod, a geek, someone who won’t shut up about something the rest of the world just get on enjoying.
Don’t watch with mother(fuckers) like you. Avoid adults; your irony-addictions will sap you of the ability to be moved.