paris hilton
― Mordy, Friday, 14 November 2014 15:21 (nine years ago) link
the few attempts at serious answers itt are actually more hilarious than the joke ones. omg @ actually thinking pop became cool with "toxic"
― lex pretend, Friday, November 14, 2014 3:50 AM (5 hours ago) Bookmark Flag Post Permalink
otm
― marcos, Friday, November 14, 2014 8:36 AM (47 minutes ago) Bookmark Flag Post Permalink
it took decades for pop music to win much popular support
― punk rocketeer (upper mississippi sh@kedown), Friday, 14 November 2014 15:25 (nine years ago) link
̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿ ̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿ ̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿ ̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿ ̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿ ̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿ ̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿ ̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿ ̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿ ̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿ ̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿ ̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿ ̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿ ̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿ 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̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿
― look what you did, you lil durk (Whiney G. Weingarten), Friday, 14 November 2014 15:30 (nine years ago) link
̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿ ̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿ ̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿ ̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿ ̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿ ̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿ ̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿ 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― look what you did, you lil durk (Whiney G. Weingarten), Friday, 14 November 2014 15:31 (nine years ago) link
pop music obtain much hard one
― my jaw left (Hurting 2), Friday, 14 November 2014 15:33 (nine years ago) link
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̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿ ̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿ ̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿ ̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿ ̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿ ̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿ ̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿ ̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿ ̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿ ̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿ ̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿ ̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿ ̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿ ̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿̿ 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― look what you did, you lil durk (Whiney G. Weingarten), Friday, 14 November 2014 15:33 (nine years ago) link
Whiney sure seems to have achieved poppage, at least.
― how's life, Friday, 14 November 2014 15:34 (nine years ago) link
many xposts ago to someone asking for thishttp://media.giphy.com/media/oaPcDncoLfgjK/giphy.gif
― give kawhi his damn eyedrops (slothroprhymes), Friday, 14 November 2014 15:36 (nine years ago) link
Before I go on there's a difference between -someone making cool pop music- and -commercial pop music no longer being sneered at- which most people haven't seemed to grasped ITT.
2004: Kelly Clarkson - Since U Been Gone― MarkoP, Thursday, November 13, 2014 9:08 PM (Yesterday) Bookmark Flag Post Permalink
― MarkoP, Thursday, November 13, 2014 9:08 PM (Yesterday) Bookmark Flag Post Permalink
This is just good power pop rock, like we've seen loads of. I'm not talking about good pop songs.
another potentially serious answer - 2003: Britney: Toxic― Mordy,
― Mordy,
No.
Ok, I will indulge in one serious response though -- I have a distinct memory of being at a hangout on a rooftop and a friend putting on Justified who I wouldn't have expected to like *pop music*, and being sort of surprised, and then finding a lot of other people I wouldn't expect were also into that record. But that was more just a watershed moment in my corny indie consciousness than in the culture at large.― my jaw left (Hurting 2),
― my jaw left (Hurting 2),
I had exact experience with someone with Justified, minus the rooftop. It did crossover into more discerning adult's collections who definitely didn't listen to NSync at any point. Justified is just good quality pop, like we've always had. But it's not the point I was trying to talk about.
even 1999 i remember hearing travis do 'baby one more time' and thinking (nb i was 15 at the time) oh! britney spears could be cool. but that was more distant/mocking and not sincere liked.― Mordy
― Mordy
That blew up so much on radio for it's perceived shock value , but it was way too early, and didn't make anyone whoe didn't like pop music like it more. it was more just funny/huh/wow reactions.
Mid 00's. Rock completely died after a laughable attempt of garage revival and hip hop took its place. So some producers like Timbaland and the Neptunes made cool to like commercial pop music and here we are.― Moka,
― Moka,
Pharrell and Tim have no part in this discussion, again.
Speakerboxx/The Love Below in 2003
You're all mixed up. That's not commercial pop. Hey Ya crossed over. They were doing on Speakerboxx what they were doing on Stankonia. Love Below wasn't an attempt at commercial gains.
basically every 15 year old hates pop music and then about half of them realize they like it somewhere between 16 and 60 and decide they're the first person/generation to ever embrace the power of pop music― nakhchi little van (some dude),
― nakhchi little van (some dude),
Not at all, you're speaking for a small proportion of people during a small period of time as if it's the norm. "every 15 year old" doesn't "hate" pop, Westlife and Backstreet sold more records with 15 year olds than anyone else. My parents and all their generation grew up loving The Beatles, and then continuing to as the got older.
The peak anti-pop feels of 90s and rooted in 80s, but cheesy pop was as strong as ever at the same time in the 90s. And anyway, the point your making is not in connection to thread.
"Wannabe" was definitely an interesting cultural moment in the sense that America had banned really sugary girly pop for a few years but the UK still loved it so much that it started to spill over to us and it seemed so out of place here― nakhchi little van (some dude),
?? America had banned sugary girly pop in 1996? That definitely didn't happen, and Spice Girls weren't "sugary girly pop", that was their whole point, to be in your face, and UK didn't "still love girly sugary pop so much", I have no idea where you're pulling that from. That whole post is hilarious in fact.
Ariel Pink fits somewhere into this narrative as well.― hackshaw,
― hackshaw,
In that he doesn't at all in any way? The guy who's spent his whole life idolising R Stevie Moore is commercially orientated?
Dido & Eminem― the man with the black wigs (Eazy),
― the man with the black wigs (Eazy),
Again no. I feel a lot of people are just missing the whole point.
― Raccoon Tanuki, Friday, 14 November 2014 21:10 (nine years ago) link
lmao
― example (crüt), Friday, 14 November 2014 21:11 (nine years ago) link
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s1tAYmMjLdY
― shmurda shmystery (sleepingbag), Friday, 14 November 2014 21:12 (nine years ago) link
it's not cool to like commercial pop music, it's cool to smoke cigarettes. what is happening to the word "cool", is it just the default now, synonymous for acceptable?
― brimstead, Friday, 14 November 2014 21:15 (nine years ago) link
liking music is not cool a anymore because of spotify, i read a cool thinkpiece on it a few weeks ago
― brimstead, Friday, 14 November 2014 21:17 (nine years ago) link
http://media.giphy.com/media/ToMjGpDP1FHvHOTWuNa/giphy.gif
― give kawhi his damn eyedrops (slothroprhymes), Friday, 14 November 2014 21:17 (nine years ago) link
hope nuki remembered to flag all those off-base posts as he was c/ping them
― een, Friday, 14 November 2014 21:22 (nine years ago) link
Chefs are the new cool musicians. I only listen to music made by chefs.
― my jaw left (Hurting 2), Friday, 14 November 2014 21:25 (nine years ago) link
who's the coolest poster in this thread
― brimstead, Friday, 14 November 2014 21:26 (nine years ago) link
i mean what's the coolest post, didn't mean to be so rockist
― brimstead, Friday, 14 November 2014 21:27 (nine years ago) link
us realizing we're uncool in real timehttp://media.giphy.com/media/S8Dv4JCz6wWBy/giphy.gif
― give kawhi his damn eyedrops (slothroprhymes), Friday, 14 November 2014 21:32 (nine years ago) link
http://i.kinja-img.com/gawker-media/image/upload/s--XtSSOkmA--/c_fit,fl_progressive,q_80,w_636/195m0cuduh4asjpg.jpg
― sleeve, Friday, 14 November 2014 21:33 (nine years ago) link
haha the gore gifs are making it really tough to look at this thread at work.
Seriously, although this thread doesn't need feeding, does anyone remember the name of the reviewer at New York Rocker whose beat was specifically pop music? His column was actually very eye-opening to me in the early 80s, when I was pretty much only listening to punk and new wave. I remember reviews of everything from Abba and Bucks Fizz to BB&Q band.
― Deliciously hard yet very accessible (Dan Peterson), Friday, 14 November 2014 21:43 (nine years ago) link
slothpro and feng is an angry dude who spends their time obsessivly following me around a low post forum along with a few other dsiciples because i don't like taylor swift, now THAT's cool
― Raccoon Tanuki, Friday, 14 November 2014 22:14 (nine years ago) link
Dan: Ken Barnes.
― clemenza, Friday, 14 November 2014 22:25 (nine years ago) link
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YOKpDidUq-w
everyone has their own "exact moment" that's what makes it beautiful
― da croupier, Friday, 14 November 2014 22:28 (nine years ago) link
http://i278.photobucket.com/albums/kk95/AggromanLives/Reagan.gif
― guess that bundt gettin eaten (Alfred, Lord Sotosyn), Friday, 14 November 2014 22:29 (nine years ago) link
http://media.giphy.com/media/qwEUso0sqlGRa/giphy.gif
― give kawhi his damn eyedrops (slothroprhymes), Friday, 14 November 2014 22:31 (nine years ago) link
from Regan to Reagan and back again
― $0.00 Butter sauce only. No marinara. (Sufjan Grafton), Friday, 14 November 2014 22:32 (nine years ago) link
ILE in a nutshell
― guess that bundt gettin eaten (Alfred, Lord Sotosyn), Friday, 14 November 2014 22:35 (nine years ago) link
moment it became absolutely clear you were never going to make even minimum wage money writing about Bob Pollard ever again = moment many writers discovered their love of vacuous mainstream horseshit
― Jimmywine Dyspeptic, Friday, 14 November 2014 22:38 (nine years ago) link
wow, in that context, the endurance of magnet magazine is all the more impressive
― da croupier, Friday, 14 November 2014 22:39 (nine years ago) link
I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix, angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machin- ery of night, who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz, who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tene- ment roofs illuminated, who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war, who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull, who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burn- ing their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall, who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York, who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, al- cohol and cock and endless balls, incomparable blind; streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping toward poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the mo- tionless world of Time between, Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brook- lyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind, who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo, who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer after noon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox, who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brook- lyn Bridge, lost battalion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon, yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars, whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement, who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall, suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grind- ings and migraines of China under junk-with- drawal in Newark's bleak furnished room, who wandered around and around at midnight in the railroad yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts, who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grand- father night, who studied Plotinus Poe St. John of the Cross telep- athy and bop kabbalah because the cosmos in- stinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas, who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking vis- ionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels, who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy, who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Okla- homa on the impulse of winter midnight street light smalltown rain, who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa, who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving behind nothing but the shadow of dungarees and the lava and ash of poetry scattered in fire place Chicago, who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the F.B.I. in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incom- prehensible leaflets, who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed, who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons, who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication, who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manu- scripts, who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy, who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love, who balled in the morning in the evenings in rose gardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may, who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword, who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom, who copulated ecstatic and insatiate with a bottle of beer a sweetheart a package of cigarettes a can- dle and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness, who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sun rise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake, who went out whoring through Colorado in myriad stolen night-cars, N.C., secret hero of these poems, cocksman and Adonis of Denver-joy to the memory of his innumerable lays of girls in empty lots & diner backyards, moviehouses' rickety rows, on mountaintops in caves or with gaunt waitresses in familiar roadside lonely pet- ticoat upliftings & especially secret gas-station solipsisms of johns, & hometown alleys too, who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hung over with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemploy- ment offices, who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open to a room full of steamheat and opium, who created great suicidal dramas on the apartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion, who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of Bowery, who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music, who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology, who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish, who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom, who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg, who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade, who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccess- fully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried, who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinis- ter intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality, who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually hap- pened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alley ways & firetrucks, not even one free beer, who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Pas- saic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steam whistles, who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch or Birmingham jazz incarnation, who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity, who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes, who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second, who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz, who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave, who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hyp notism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury, who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturers on Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding in- stantaneous lobotomy, and who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psycho- therapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia, who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia, returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible mad man doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East, Pilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rock- ing and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a night- mare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon, with mother finally ******, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4. A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last fur- nished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger in the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time and who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrat- ing plane, who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soul between 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus to recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intel- ligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet con- fessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head, the madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death, and rose reincarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio with the absolute heart of the poem of life butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years.
― Stim McRaw (Noodle Vague), Friday, 14 November 2014 22:43 (nine years ago) link
the wisdom lit of Bob Pollard
― guess that bundt gettin eaten (Alfred, Lord Sotosyn), Friday, 14 November 2014 22:44 (nine years ago) link
http://www.giantbomb.com/forums/off-topic-31/whenwhy-did-it-become-cool-to-be-a-hipster-546639/
― soref, Friday, 14 November 2014 22:53 (nine years ago) link
Clemenza, that's it, Ken Barnes, thanks! I owe my appreciation of Bucks Fizz to him.
― Deliciously hard yet very accessible (Dan Peterson), Friday, 14 November 2014 23:03 (nine years ago) link
I knew I knew who it was--Chuck Eddy often cites him as an influence--but I did have to Google it; found an early Charles Aaron singles column in Spin where he cited Barnes as the column's inspiration. I only ever bought one copy of New York Rocker myself, the Johnny Thunders/Alan Vega cover.
― clemenza, Friday, 14 November 2014 23:11 (nine years ago) link
I still pick up the occasional copy of NYR on ebay when I can find them cheap.
― Deliciously hard yet very accessible (Dan Peterson), Friday, 14 November 2014 23:15 (nine years ago) link
― Jimmywine Dyspeptic, Friday, November 14, 2014 5:38 PM (6 minutes ago) Bookmark Flag Post Permalink
indie rock definitely takes up a smaller (but still disproportionately large) slice of the music writing economy pie than it used to, but i kinda doubt anyone focusing on it saw their money slow up more than anyone else in the industry or started covering (gasp) other stuff simply as a matter of survival
― nakhchi little van (some dude), Friday, 14 November 2014 23:19 (nine years ago) link
moment when it became cool to take the thread seriously?
― So beautiful cow (forksclovetofu), Friday, 14 November 2014 23:21 (nine years ago) link
THE MOMENT PERPETUA STARTED GIFFING AT BUZZFEED AND DON PASADINO GOT BANNED FROM ILX
― linda cardellini (zachlyon), Friday, 14 November 2014 23:27 (nine years ago) link
THAT WAS LITERALLY THE SAME MOMENT IIRC
― linda cardellini (zachlyon), Friday, 14 November 2014 23:28 (nine years ago) link
Blame the internet. People no longer had to be silently judged by the rockist at the cash register. People were no longer ashamed of listening to Donna Lewis at their homes.
― Moka, Friday, 14 November 2014 23:37 (nine years ago) link
the first "like" in this thread title is underrated......
― m0stlyClean, Friday, 14 November 2014 23:38 (nine years ago) link
tanuki is my favorite kind of message board idiot, the one who goes "everybody, gather round, look at me!.....stop following me, you stalker"
― nakhchi little van (some dude), Friday, 14 November 2014 23:43 (nine years ago) link
I do think this is an interesting question, even though it invites derisive responses. I alluded to something similar in a year-end ballot a couple of years ago; a friend who’s usually on the same page as me when it comes to this stuff disagreed--saying that nothing much had changed in the last few years--so that gave me pause.
To prove that nothing has changed, people will usually point out that there have always been rock critics who wrote enthusiastically about chart pop (true: the aforementioned Ken Barnes’s name will turn up, a few others), and that there have always been certain pop singles that did really well in Pazz & Jop (also true--“Jump,” “MMMBop,” etc.) I’m not sure such songs are the best place to look for counter-evidence.
Things feel different to me. And I don’t think it’s just age (it’s partly age), but I don’t know.
― clemenza, Friday, 14 November 2014 23:59 (nine years ago) link
http://i.imgur.com/Lipwcyr.gifv
― Moka, Saturday, 15 November 2014 04:18 (nine years ago) link
Blame the internet. People no longer had to be silently judged by the rockist at the cash register. People were no longer ashamed of listening to Donna Lewis at their homes.― Moka
― Moka
Hadn't actually thought about this, may be more than something in that.
I do think this is an interesting question, even though it invites derisive responses. I alluded to something similar in a year-end ballot a couple of years ago; a friend who’s usually on the same page as me when it comes to this stuff disagreed--saying that nothing much had changed in the last few years--so that gave me pause.To prove that nothing has changed, people will usually point out that there have always been rock critics who wrote enthusiastically about chart pop (true: the aforementioned Ken Barnes’s name will turn up, a few others), and that there have always been certain pop singles that did really well in Pazz & Jop (also true--“Jump,” “MMMBop,” etc.) I’m not sure such songs are the best place to look for counter-evidence.Things feel different to me. And I don’t think it’s just age (it’s partly age), but I don’t know.― clemenza,
― clemenza,
Ill come back to this, but short stupid ans is rise of corporate commercialism as not being a thing to be cynical about
― Raccoon Tanuki, Saturday, 15 November 2014 09:58 (nine years ago) link
something about Davos and Ted Talks
― ILoveMeconium (President Keyes), Saturday, 15 November 2014 12:02 (nine years ago) link
Awaiting long stupid ans w bated breath
― Fairly peng (wins), Saturday, 15 November 2014 13:52 (nine years ago) link
rise of corporate commercialism as not being a thing to be cynical about
― Raccoon Tanuki, Saturday, November 15, 2014 9:58 AM (3 hours ago) Bookmark Flag Post Permalink
actually think there might be something in this, though not pertaining to pop or any genre in particular but in terms of how music fans and critics obsess not only over the music but about the promo campaign and the overall brand-building without too much cynicism (i guess this is partic evident around daft punk, jay-z etc?)
― lex pretend, Saturday, 15 November 2014 13:58 (nine years ago) link
apols for dignifying this thread w a serious answer, carry on as you were