Remember when I started this list, roughly 67 years and 8 months ago?
I kept making jokes about my multiple wives, remember?
I only went as far back as my second wife though, as I felt that people would read too much into it if I talked about my first wife
It was a silly aside, and helped me fill out the word count on some of (cough) this year’s more difficult to describe albums. It was dumb, cheap, and a little bit pointless
Life, in and of itself, isn’t worth living
I mean, maybe it is: my life is certainly just about worth living
and maybe your life is worth living. In fact I’d bet that all the people reading this- all three or four of you- have lives that are definitely worth living
No, of course you don’t, they were terrible. One of my brothers, I can’t remember which because they’re both equally worthless to me, brought me their debut album for Christmas once, and it was a godless dirge apparently catered toward those who enjoyed The Klaxons’ general shittiness but found them altogether far too listenable
I’ve never forgiven my brother, and the fact that I can’t remember which one it was who brought it for me meant they both had to die in that tragic tiddly winking accident soon after that I have been legally proven to have had nothing to do with
Dev Hynes’s evolution since then has been extraordinary
Hey, did you know that people are still making classical music?
No, honestly, not just film soundtracks! I mean there are actually people still composing new pieces that aren’t just Hanns Zimmer going WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRGG while Tom Hardy bites the Loch Ness Monster’s head off with his fists
Such an act of heroic senselessness would obviously convince Emma Stone that she did love Matt Hardy after all, despite all her previous banter, because women are generally only impressed by creative slaughter of mythical beasts
OK, all arguments are invalid from this point onward: if you don’t love all of the next 18 records- the actual best albums of the year- then you obviously don’t really appreciate either music or joy, and I’m wondering why you even made it this far, both on this list and in life in general without slitting your wrists
(Thought that song was called RIP it Up, took me fucking ages to find it)
Can you believe this is only the second (halfway decent) self titled album released (cough) this year??
I had, like, a thing for self-titled albums, didn’t I?
I think it was called Self-Titled Vindication or summat, but it’s been so long now that I can’t quite remember
Did I use a picture or something?
Next time you’re at an Aerosmith concert- which is the type of humanatarian atrocity you often commit because you have the same laughable sense of taste in music as Homer Simpson and literally every artist you like is music that you’ve forgotten that you initially got into ironically- look out at the back of the crowd for a paunchy man in leather trousers and a faded ‘Toys in the Attic’ tour t-shirt and the kind of haircut that men only grow when they’re either unwilling or unable to accept that they’re bald. He’ll be disgusted that the band aren’t playing cheap Rolling Stones pastiches- a band that, lest we forget, are fucking shit in the first place- about a teenage girl having electric vaginal spasms, or whatever
they’ll be muttering to themselves