radio waves crossed in a vomit blend

Listen to this song-

God-damn, fire!

Fuck. Isn’t it… embarrassing ? I pity the man for being at such point where he would have to express himself this way. Poor dude. Kenny. Featuring ‘P!NK.’ Good Lord.

This song is an obscenity. He should have to pay a fine for making it.

I can’t even go on about it. But when this song invaded the interior of my automobile, and then the interior of my mind, like the grasping, molesting smokey tendrils of a Lovecraftian Malevolence, I realized, before muting the radio and the Evil, that Something is Happening in pop music.

All the genres of pop music are slowly blending into each other, into a higher, blander generality; into an abstraction of diluted feelings from everything- hip hop, country, rock, reggae, r&b, metal, dubstep, edm, whatever-the-fuck. I wouldn’t call what is emerging from this slow-boiling stew of teenage-angst hormones and Brave New World-esque orgiastic synth-feels a new genre exactly, but like an impersonation, just an imitation of ‘music.’ It’s what happens when corporate androids make music, and not human beings. Listen:

I don’t hate these guys, let me clarify. I see them as a sort-of inevitable product of human history, so it makes no sense to me to make fun of their make-up and clothes. I dress like an idiot, too, and I’m not a musician, so I have no justification.

Let’s break down the sound-blend, shall we? To make this song you must first find the cave in Death Valley where Simple Plan has been hiding all these years, ashamed of themselves, and promise them a new future. They will have to take their 3 chord power pop and play it with up-strokes a-la-reggae, and throw in a second-verse rap with a ‘fire’ triplets flow off any mixtape from 2014. Oh, and they need edgier tattoos so we can sign them to Fall Out Boy’s imprint and dance them with Warner Bro’s strings. They might even smoke weed. This is Simple Plan with student debt and a taste for kush.

But what is it? Are they emos? I don’t know man. We’ll need more specimens.

I think that I would actually like this song, had I not had it force-fed me everyday for the last 3 years. What the hell happened to these guys? Did they get replaced by Twenty One Pilots? Damn. Shoulda signed to Fall Out Boy.

God. Where to start. First, I have to admit, the rapping is markedly better in this song than the last one. He can actually flow a little bit. The lyrics are just New Age enough to be interesting and almost different. The music video, full of models and cash, doesn’t seem to me to fit the pseudo-spiritual vibe. But shit, this is the new gilded age, and hedonism needs some divine silver-lining to mesmerize our adderall and coke-addled millennial brains. Anyways, the music. It’s like the guy from Circa Survive started rapping, and for some reason replaced all the members of his band with shittier musicians.

I must say though, with a deeper, sexier voice, that second verse would be nice. I’m not a fan of the nasal, tinny yodeling that all of this Generic Corporate Music employs. It’s definitely an atavism, left over from the days of Panic At the Disco and Fall out Boy. I’m sentimental too, but we should leave some things in the past.

Still, there’s something here. Shit, the way he says ‘these hearts adore… One Love, two Mouths, ONE love, one House!’ Fuck. It makes me wanna fuck him. I must admit.

But then they totally drop the oozing-orgy energy to start a 3-chord folk chorus. The Fear and Loathing hipster-rap dripping sex turns into a 2014 Folk lullaby, and whimpers, limping in impotence to the end. Tease! Why?!

I don’t ever listen to the radio unless it’s forced on me, but this phenomenon also seems to be burbling up from the depths of the internet as well. Witness:

I’m not sure how I stumbled on this guy’s music. He’s worked with Y2K, a DJ from my university, maybe that’s how. ‘Lil Aaron.’ It’s definitely 2017.

Actually, I won’t say anything about the music, about any of it. Do your thing man. Whatever you feel calling you in your heart. He’s not so big yet, so I can’t cruelly mock him. Only when he is beyond the slings and arrows of bitter bloggers do we have a right to say mean shit. Just notice the T Pain-cum-Blink 182 vibe. Maybe you dig it. Whatever,  it’s cool man. I won’t judge.

This will be the last pop song today. I don’t want to kill you with all of this, all at once.

Jesus. This is so fucking catchy. The first time I heard it, sitting in a café, I fucking had to stand up. Like I couldn’t sit while hearing such a metallic, chrome melody, bespeaking my millennial soul in a signifier-less melodrama. My white-boy knees, my stiff blogger’s hips were cracking and popping as I shuffled over to the waiter, to ask him who these angels were.

And then I heard it again, and again, and again. And shit was still catchy. I still like it, even as the blackhole of the world’s 4 second attention span obliterates it into one-hit-wonder voidness.

This is the whitest song, and the whitest band, to have ever existed. I don’t know exactly what that means, but I know I mean it. It’s Pop, capitalized, in the Karl Marx sense of Kapital. It’s like hip hop, but without the swing, without the energy, it’s hip hop for your rich white friend’s mom’s kitchen. They took the soul out of hip hop’s rhythm, so white people won’t dislocate any of their rigid, evil skeletal structure. I’m one-fourth Syrian, so it’s okay for me to acknowledge and write that.

L-oh-fucking-L. They even reference Blink 182, who would probably beat the shit out of these guys if they had met in the 90’s.

God damn. Motherfucker, god damn. Music. I want all of it to separate. I see what’s going on and I don’t like it, not one bit. I want my peas ABSOLUTELY NOT touching my rice. I want my reggaeton FAR AWAY from my boy bands, I want my hip hop pure from the embrace of pop-punk and ska bands. Why can’t the capitalists leave anything alone? Is nothing sacred?!

It’s catchy though. Damn.

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