6 Tove Styrke: Sway

I’ve dragged this blog to some pretty dark places as we move toward the end. The possible end of Hejjy and my relationship, which I had rather naively and foolishly pitted so much of my happiness on, hit me hard. I hadn’t previously realised to what extent I’d subconsciously done until it was potentially pulled away. I quickly realised that I’d actually based all of my future dreams, centred every situation I imagine myself in, around Hejjy and the threat of her being removed from all of these fantasies meant my head was forced to furiously remove chairs and make new plans like WWE when Roman Reign’s leukaemia sidelined him. Everything I knew was wrong, suddenly I had nothing to look forward to. Life suddenly became completely pointless. And I still had to finish this fucking list that nobody reads!! Then, this morning I got up and opened the curtains.

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It’s a sunny day. I get to listen to the lovely Let’s Eat Grandma record. Even the fact that they are no longer my band didn’t hurt that bad. Then, as I make dinner, I put the genius second record by Tove Styrke on my headphones and… danced around the flat in the sunshine.

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11 Lupe Fiasco: DROGAS WAVE

I’m sorry to start off on a bit of a downer here, and I know that a white person mentioning these things is always a bit of a bummer. I can hear all the white readers already:

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And I hear you, bro! It’s totally easier for us rad white guys to just ignore the guilt that’s naturally eating away at every white person! It wasn’t us who enslaved an entire section of people! It was, like, our great great great granddads and shit, yeah? But, like, not my great great great granddad, he would have been totally woke in the 18th century! If my great great great granddad had slaves, then how come I have so many black friends?! Loads! Like who? Peter! He’s black! What’s that? Italian, you say? But he’s got such dark… I mean, in certain lights… So, does he not count…?

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55 Manic Street Preachers: Resistance is Futile (and the Manics albums ranked)

You might not believe this- considering it sounds so much like a slogan that would have been scrawled over the shirt of an awkward looking Sean Moore in 1991*- but the Manic Street Preachers haven’t actually released an album (or even song) called ‘resistance is futile’ before!

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thankfully, it says ‘broken algorithms’ on the inner sleeve

(*some classic Manic Street Preachers t-shirt slogans from the early 90s:

  • Bon Apetit Benito!
  • Pol Pot Luck!
  • Atrophy is Ecstacy!
  • She Had a Honky-Tonk Badonkadonk!
  • Burn Your Kindling!
  • You’re the Spitting Image of Your Father When You Make That Face!
  • (poo emoji)!
  • Mao That’s What Zedong Music!
  • Rick and Morty Reference That I Honestly Believe Makes Me Smarter Than You! Seriously, What The Fuck Is Up With That Shit?! It Makes Me Want To Hate the Show Because Its Fans Are Such Cunts!
  • USSR! Fuck Yeah!

OK, we’re done here…)

‘Resistance is Futile’ is absolutely a treading water, ticking boxes, Manic Street Preachers album. And that’s absolutely fine, not just because the absolute riproaring success of ‘Futurology‘ means the band are allowed to put their feet up for an album or two (you Millennials don’t appreciate how much doing something decent really takes it out of you at a certain age), but also because the lack of talking points means it’s given me a chance to finally rate all the Manics albums!!

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58 CHVRCHES: Love is Dead

‘Love Is Dead’ is, as many commentators have already pointed out, a lot like Chris Pine’s penis. I can appreciate it, I understand why people might like it, and it’s definitely technically extremely sound. I can even perceive things about it that people would definitely like, and in theory there are many things about it that I should really be a fan of. On paper, ‘Love is Dead’/Chris Pine’s penis should be something I’m really into, they’re both legitimately ‘dazzling‘, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with either of them and there are no holes I can pick in…

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I mean… yeah… I suppose that… Chris Pine’s penis… pick a hole… Never mind, this analogy is golden. Let’s move along.

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12: Young Fathers: White Men Are Black Men Too

Young Fathers have very quickly become one of British music’s stand out acts, mainly because of the fact they simply don’t sound remotely similar to anyone else (though there are occasional flashes of TV On the Radio). They’re usually (and lazily) referred to as rap, but their songs often lack any hip-hop production and the lyrics are delivered in a style more easily comparable to some sort of perverted gospel or even peculiar terrace chants. Their second album comes less than a year after their Mercury Prize winning debut and so predictably lacks some of that record’s impact, it’s more concerned with expertly honing their heavily individual sound right now rather than ripping everything up starting again. There’s a little more of a rock influence here than on their debut, while as the title suggests there are lyrics slightly more concerned with racial politics and identity (‘I’m tired of playing the good black/I’m tired of having to hold back…I’m tired of blaming the white man/His indiscretion don’t betray him…Some white men are black men too/Nigger to them, gentlemen to you’) but mostly it’s more about evolving an already spectacular sound before any serious ideas of revolution. Still, if they agree to release an album a year of a quality that’s this stunning then I’m definitely on board.

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‘Fun’ Fact: Young Fathers member Alloysious Massaquoi is the enemy of spellcheckers everywhere

Is it actually better than the first though? Whisper it, but it might be, though it could never possibly match the shock to the system when you first hear their music, as fantastic as tracks like ‘Rain or Shineare

Album Link