This is The Story… of a Cover Girl Named Sally TNGR

Alright, alright, alright – we’ve done this before… Well, not we, but me. So, don’t be scared – I’ve done this before. Gotta love album art, right? When it’s done right at least, which is the least you could ask from a generation of kids who make gifs and Photoshop tricks all day. Alas, today’s album art is… quite atrocious by-and-large. Anyhaps, when given the opportunity, I like to give stories to album covers – because a) why not (b) the picture itself already gave me the first thousand words, I’m just grabbing the baton (c) stop asking moot questions – the cover’s going to get creatively deconstructed. That said, Chester French is coming out with a new album #huzzah Yep, that Chester French #kanyeshrugsandsomeblackgirllove … connecting the dots… they dropped the album cover … connecting the dots … here goes the Blinkk:

This is the story… of a girl named Sally. Uh-oh, D.A. didn’t take you to prom… Max left you alone at the football field underneath the bleachers… The world has gone topsy-turvy. You’re any kid from Everytown, USA. You remember when you were a teen and the internet was awesome. You lived outside; it was boring, but it was okay – because you had a place where you were your projection: XangaLiveJournal, and MySpace were your digital protection. You “got” the net before the net got you. You were the future – the digital Magellan. You beat Y2K. You found some bootstraps and pulled yourself up. Maybe you blogged and grassrooted your way to Harvard. It was 2005 and you were on the fast track to the American Dream. You were going to be the next Elle Woods. You hung with guys that had the spirit of the Winklevosses and the style of a young Zuckerberg. You Photshopped and ProToolsed your way into the creative world. You became “somebody” on YouTube. You were going to be the one. Then, you realized – so was everybody else.

Disillusion set in, you couldn’t pay for Harvard. What’s one piece of paper, when you could have a million? And what’s cooler than a million pieces of paper? A billion. And what’s it take to make a billion pieces of paper? A million little pieces. You moved from the East Coast to the Best Coast in search of fame and fortune, courtesy of Hollywood a la Kitty Purry, or Silicon Valley a la Sean Parker. You could be your own boss – like Steve Jobs, but why be your own boss when you could marry a guy who’s his own boss – like Kevin Federline.

Then 2007 happened, and that glitter was fool’s gold – bye, bye Barbara Streisand. You were back to square one, back to that one piece of paper, back to Everytown, USA. Then you realized – so was everybody else. You finally got it all sorted, somewhat. You got out alive in 2009, your head was above water – treading, but steady treading: yes we can, I think we can… A song came out about a girl who loved everybody, and you think to yourself, “She’s so lucky.” You got back with your highschool substitute sweetheart. You settled down, and settled for the norm.

It’s 2011: you’ve got two kids, and a marketing degree from a state school where parties outnumbered professors. Everything came full circle like abandoned wedding rings. You’re remembering that you’re a decade and some change over thirteen. You remember that the internet was awesome, and now it’s just kind of there – everywhere. You live online; it’s boring, but it’s okay – because the outside is scary when Everytown American values aren’t so much pleasantries as occupancies. You are still your projection; Pinterest, Facebook, and Twitter are now your entire life’s digital recollections. You pin screen caps to your “Dream Wedding Dresses” board, you tag the same five highschool friends in your “YOLO: California Girlz!” album (seven years later), your Twitter page is an endless ream of @whitegrlproblems retweets. You are the forever Sally Highschool. You are forever on the fringe of real and digital. You have the same hopes and dreams, tales of love gained, lost, and lamented, the same quarterlife crises as any and everyone else… but even though you lived it on the wire, there was still some semblance of tangible human life behind that digital screen. This any-narrative is the story… of a girl named Sally; and this album is the electro-acoustic soundtrack of her self, and her TNG scene, from her highschool suitors. Music 4 TNGRS: Requiem for the Teenage Dream, courtesy of Generation Adamant Abbreviated Extended Adolescence.

Watch This Space: Looks good, sounds eeeeven better.


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