Live from the Calvary that is Coachella, welcome to this Pop Communion that is The Cure …
Feels, on, reals.
So it is and, again, here we are… and #againagain I don’t really know where to begin or end with this one as again again again there is no beginning or end to the perpetual Pascha that is “The Cure.” I still haven’t figured it out yet, but I enjoy musing in the meantime… #fortherecord #noneofthisisbinding #itsalljustmakebelieve #dontciteme
On the seventh day, Gaga had finished this work of creation, so she put to rest this Famous curse…
So, “The Cure.” I guess, broadly, briefly, it feels like… surrendering into the unknown abyss after a forty-day desert trek, only to find… that the hard-fought rock bottom was but a bridge, all along, before that luminous cloud rocket number nine.
I’m an audiophilic one, like many. I love and live my music. Music is the score of said life. So, a playlist sonic biography of the slightly younger, significantly wiser self. Mood music … immune muses … Just a spin in the soundtrack of swipe’s life… Enjoi.
I see in sounds: my selfie is a soundtrack.
The (S)tar Spangled Banner – Whitney Houston 
Pledge allegiance. The dawn, the genesis. Born stellar.
(W)ho Do You Think You Are – Spice Girls 
When this launched, who did I think I was… who did I perceive myself to be… well, I was a bouncing Baltimore baby, the charmed second, bite-sized cerebral stellar body in orbital training, traversing the globe from within the four walls of my elementary boudoir. Reach up, maintain soul, get down, claim control… move, swing, shake, for life, for lyric, for rhyme, or reason (whichever’s in season): a la mode, a la monarchy, nine years young, forever the groovy one… cheers.
Oh, hai “that time of year again,” didn’t hear you come in – well, have a seat and make yourself comfortable. I’m not spectacular at year-end reviews… I prefer life like I prefer my albums: gapless. That said, I hat-tipped five artists, songs, and albums that made me pause and take time to jot the time and place – year included – over the last 300-someodd days; and five creations that embodied and encapsulated sonic aesthetic for 2011. To the five I take, to have and to hold; forever like a TrapperKeeper, Pop safe in the fold. #enjoi
“The Edge of Glory,” “Judas” – Born This Way – Lady Gaga
But, first, a word from our sponsor…
… and now back to our regularly scheduled Popgramming
You can reproduce your past, you can rewrite your present, you can dictate your future… beneath the metronomic hum of the running film reel Gaga brings the monster from the hub of the city to the heart and soul of her own fatally fame-laden tale…
If you knight it then you should’ve put a ring on it…
BlinkkIt: #bam Manhattan’s Pop monarch came back after three betrayals to bring Brooklyn’s Finest’s line to fruition… closing out Born This Way with a single that slays the sanctimony of matrimony and raises a glass to the twice-kissed sinners… “Birthdays was the worst days, now we sip champagne when we thirstay;” here’s to all of your future pain being champagne. #cheerstotearsontap
Pop is pastiche at its finest; sometimes you need nothing more than to collect the right pieces and be the sound canvas. Half of Pop is creating the story, the other half is capturing the stars in that momentary align when the stories converge to recognize themselves…
“The Edge of Glory:” It’s an edge, and it’s glorious – and that’s all we need to say about that.
I love this video. When I saw this video, some less fatigued part of me wanted to run across the Brooklyn Bridge and upload footage of said jog to YouTube #literally – some more juvenile, bad tomboyish part of me #justcheesin #cake Gaga’s videos are like Matcha Green Tea ice cream – good, good for you, invigorating, a little unconventional, a lil’ left of west, undeniably delicious, but digest it too fast and you’ll get a brain freeze. There’s so much all the time, and it’s all so good, but there’s just not enough time in the day, week, month, or decade to digest any of it properly; which doesn’t stop you from eating it again, and again – and only intensifies her need to dish it out again, and again – until we’ve got a roadside diner full of dead bodies. That said, I couldn’t face the iceberg this time… I’m just a kid – even this bouncing baby brain needs a break #haveyouhadyourhappymealtoday – even still, I bowed to Atlas, and anticipated said final cerebral demise when watching said glorious film.
“I don’t want to be part of the machine – I want the machine to be part of me.“
Born This Way is a perfect record. It is uncomfortably euphoric. First spins are ideally experienced with a few close friends, or those who have spun before; likely obtained through contraband means however – the first spin is usually experienced in the wee hours of the night or morning… where the rush of the synesthetic synthetic splendor triggering peaks and valleys – previously unfathomed – comes with a conscious uncertainty: as to whether you like it or hate it, whether or not said rush is result of the product itself, or the hype surrounding and building up to the first taste, and whether or not this is in actuality real life, some surreal fantasy – or just the delirious drunkenness of well-deserved fatigue… It’s personal, political, public, and cultural; it’s the social catalyst, sedative, signpost and staple; it’s the universal shared experience, and the pre-eminent polarizing sign of the times – like blood flowing through the veins of a buncha bad kids: Born This Way is a trip down Alice’s glitter way – and one hell of a drug. #rhythmicrapture
If nothing else, a new GaGa release means new blood #literally… check out my friend, fellow music writer, and connoisseur of #prettykewl things, Corey Bell’s “At First Listen” of Lady GaGa’s Born This Way…
We all know that Lady GaGa has a pretty wild and vivid imagination. This is quite obvious when it comes to her sense of fashion and her elaborate music videos and stage sets. It is also very prevalent in her music, as we, her adoring and yet often puzzled fans, hang on her every lyric and note. So it should come as no surprise that her new album, the heavily awaited and almost excessively promoted Born This Way, does not yield boring results in terms of being imaginative.
In my opinion, it borders on the bizarre.
Three days later… minds are made for swiping, and that’s just what they’ll do, and one of these days – or three – Swipe’s mind vomits all over you #inthemostbiblicalsense
In the cultural sense: Gaga smited her own spoken futuristic pretense; in the most biblical sense – her lips behave beyond repentance: a miss’ single kiss birthing culture from the crucifix – by all means, sir, take offense.
The monster hit-and-miss… and the Monster Hidden Miss…
Aside from being an absolutely masterful piece of work – completely; Judas is an immaculate conception of the most divine du jour…
Betrayal runs through the track like bad romances through the veins of the Haus madam. There is a betrayal of comfortable pop song structure, the assault on the eardrums, the screams and distortion, the chord progression into further confusion… This song runs train on conductors… this sounds like Bad Romance’s bigger, badder, biblical older sister who just got back from Barnard – educated and disinfatuated – that older sister. Betrayal runs through the very being of Judas. Ju-da Ju-da-ah-ah… There’s a deep ingrained cohesion to every thread and theme of Judas. It opens with just vocals, flips to just instrumentation, then tandems to a crucifixtious climax – and that’s just the first three signatures #betrayals The verses go HAM on Sunday brunch…Thematically, from Mary Magdalene to Peter, from Judas to Jesus, channeling to Gaga – iconographies illustrating betrayals of biblical proportions… Anatomically, the inevitable unironic fist pumps betraying any sense of social decency… and yet being a product of the preeminent voice of a generation – the anthem of the slanderer becomes the cultural signature…
I don’t know where to begin or end with this one… and I suppose that’s the best way to be – as there is no beginning or end to the perpetual renaissance that is Born This Way.
On G.O.A.T, a Government Owned Alien Territory in space, a birth of magnificent and magical proportions took place; but the birth was not finite – it was infinite. As the wombs numbered and the mitosis of the future began, it was perceived that this infamous moment in life is not temporal, it is eternal. And thus began the beginning of the new race, a race within the race of humanity, a race which bears no prejudice, no judgment but boundless freedom. But on that same day, as the eternal mother hovered in the multiverse, another more terrifying birth took place, the birth of evil. And as she herself split into two, rotating in agony between two ultimate forces, the pendulum of choice began its dance. It seems easy, you imagine, to gravitate instantly and unwaveringly towards good; but she wondered, “How can I protect something so perfect without evil?”
That… is the truth.
What artists do wrong is they lie, what critics do wrong is they try; I’m not going to try and pretend I know every conceptual reference here, nor analyze from a detached place of fault-and-fact finding – this isn’t about Pop cheat sheets and checklists… I’m just going to riff on what I know for me, and what I see when I watch that which the world will be.
I see George Clinton. I see One Nation Under a Groove, I see One Race Under the Hooves. I see Atomic Dogs reborn as Spearheaded Stallions. I feel what I felt when I lived in the eternal Funk of George Clinton’s 25th Anniversary show at the Apollo in 2005. I feel like a freshman again, caught in the unknown precipice that is Harlem’s heart with hippies and hipsters and blipsters and soulmen dancing together under the translucent kaleidoscopic gaze that is the pre-eminent Funkmaster’s view. Then, I witnessed the vintage funk future as George unearthed the mothership; here, I live the future as Gaga births the mother monstership.
… and on the fifth day Gaga unleashed the beasts, saw everything that she had famed… and behold: it was very good…
SnappIt: Well look who just got a job at the electric company… bringin’ the sweatglam-seventies-borderline-aerosol-eighties club scene back with more flamboyant fervor than the lil’ tranny train that could work a runway:
girl paws yes please.
#inanutshell: Just as big as before, but a more detailed, well-composed, worldly, optimistic “Bad Romance.” Very “After getting best undressed senior in high school, I went to Cal Berkeley, hung out in the Haight and now I’ve expanded my rainbow horizons.” *That* big sister. … *that* Dennis the Menace to Madonna’s Mr. Wilson “I love you and all but, the what are you doing on my lawn – all the tick-tock time?!”
140 or less: Merry Neo-Disco Christmas! Open your heart, enjoy the holiday; don’t be drag, be a queen – and lay off the dirty ice cream
Two Snapps A Whirl A Twirl and Circle Around
It’s a wrap; somewhere, Ronald Reagan is crying on Basquiat’s shoulder #postpostdiscodemonic #allsmileshere This is what some would call a “Game Changer,” this is what lil’ monsters would refer to as a “GagameChanger” – before underwriting “AND IT WAS BORN THIS WAY, BABY!” for
a quick fix good measure – either way, this matters. She’s been saying it all year, but it’s a bit different when it happens.
“Ugh swiper… but how does it soundddddd – what does it all meannnnn?”
428 days later… Lady Gaga broke her notoriously extended hiatus, premiering her first mastered piece of “new music” since 2009’s The Fame Monster. Those two years of antagonizing anticipation culminated into the club-pulsing climax: the exclusive Thierry Mugler “Scheiße” remix – in a hashtag #discodemonic, in seven words: THIS is why my paws stay pilot. While this may just be a remix, be well aware it is the Wemix 2011 anthem for monsters-turned-zombies: ignite the living dead
Step back from the fact that this is “just a remix,” forget the fact that this may or may not be what you wanted to hear from someone about whom you may or may not give a scheiße – ether that; from start to finish, career and current track, no one – no one female Pop body – can produce: produce, what Gaga can. Line after line, time after time: perfection – the wait is always worth it.