a pained confusion
disco as an insistent, bluesy slither
Royal Blood are nothing special, Coral are something special -go figure
Coldplay meet Max Martin in a bid for the charts
a timeless cheer of artistic freedom
drinks-will-flow, blood-will-spill working class lyrics
“art is my motto”
a perfect dance track built out of negative space
Tom Jones adds genius to longevity
a who’s who of Brit bluesmen and beyond to celebrate
it’s show business
the blueprint for all the electronic music that came after it
“He thought he was Mick Jagger. He was Donny Osmond. Print it. The schmuck.”
too serious and slow
distressed tale of a teenage couple falling asleep at a drive-in
John and Paul knew that George had risen to their level
‘Screw the black market. This is a pop record, daddy-o!’
Taylor even more so
freedom of discovery via unemployment compensation
a pop doo wop 50s style rocker
we were gods and goddesses
She had a face for which a ship might have once been named
a lucid variant on hope, love, peace and person
a pretty good year for Scottish indie rock
as pretty damn pure a piece of pop craft as was ever recorded
‘Just sing `Baby, baby, baby.’
loose, sloppy spirit
bad, not deadly
catchy and fun, and a little sad
glorious, sadgirl lullaby
between tedium and genius
a swooning, dramatic pledge of devotion
the Dionne version sounds quite perfect
mostly just taking up room
that’s good enough for us
one minute 43 of chipmunk sound
Rocky Kramer will be hosting
you just can’t sustain a career with non-fungible tokens
tale of New York city street sleaze
first rate, second generation hyperpop
just for the funk of it
an oddity…
haunting despondency
the hottest slice of funk to hit the pop charts
just about anyone can be # 1…
a swaggering sexual boast
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