With the exception of Jones/Costello, things have been on a dismal streak here at RR, from Beaver Brown (seriously? John Cougar-copy Beaver Brown?) to Super Bowl po(o)p and related other pop shit (does anyone actually click on those songs?). Proud to say I still don’t know the lady who sang the national anthem and I didn’t know who Missy Elliot was when she showed up either – I thought she was a man.
What I give you here is from the album I listened to on the way to my Super Bowl party yesterday. A lesson in iambic pentameter, the way the title rolls off the tongue makes the song all by itself.
Just say no to Shit Pop Remnants.
Great. But if you want pleasure, go with Stay. That’s easy.
How can you call yourself a music expert and at the same time be proud of your musical ignorance? THERE’S NO SENSE TO IT.
Um, Adele, I don’t think any of us ever said anywhere that we were “experts” at much of anything.
I think I’m a musical expert. But my feelings are hurt and I’m actually crying right now over Adele’s insensitivity.