It’s wonderful that Duster blew up after 25 years, but tragic that it led to the creation of this low-effort depression-fetishizing nonsense.
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Please stop being boring. I don’t want to hear your current music at the clubs anymore, I’m getting tired of it.
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Most every song sounded like a criminal concoction of synths, cringeworthy lyrics, and out-of-place features.
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There’s a fierceness plague. Everyone is trying to eat, but there were already no crumbs left on the plate.
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It seems that the real call is coming from inside the house.
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Cold War Kids, you darn corndogs, you. All love. And reader, if you too are part of the Certified “Hang Me Up To Dry” Hate Club, email me. Let’s get lunch.
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It is manic and dizzying; it is brilliant.
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As the music industry assimilates into the age of streaming, the future of guitar bands faces dire uncertainty; bands that thrive in live settings must now adapt in order to adhere to the rigid standards of the music industry.
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After all, it’s a concert, not tea time at Buckingham Palace.
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To grow back the long black hair, put on a stupid, neon outfit and just make fun music. Maybe that was a mistake.
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Truthfully, I never felt cooler rocking my Converse after learning about ‘Three Artists, One Song.’ Call it brand loyalty or what have you, but knowing the people who made my shoes could get down with what I’m into–that was everything.
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The tracks quickly become a secret that only fans indoctrinated into the world of the musician are familiar with and unintentionally become the foundation to the community of fans the artist has. But if these songs are so popular and beloved, why do artists hesitate to give the fans what they want?
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