In a way, losing all my music has been a little exciting. I’ve had to start from scratch looking for stuff to score from and I’ve already found some sick artists I can’t believe I didn’t know about. This album, full of noir clips and jazzy old samples, is fucking awesome.
Did you know that Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx made an album? And that it has moments of the unpredictable creativity of jazz as interpreted by midi beats, coupled with real poetry and introspection?
This is not one of those jazzy moments. This song is just pimp as all get-out.
And yeah, I mean, that article in the New Yorker prior to Gil’s death about how he pretty much did any project he could for a crack dollar might color this kinda tragic, but at the same time how amazing would this sound in the club?
In History vs. Content, content wins this match I guess.
Look, the fact of the matter is, the girl is speaking the truth.
Like, maybe she’s squinty and immature, and maybe it tastes metallically tinny and overproduced. Maybe her voice isn’t that great, even. Maybe this is all a narrative created by a grossly rich, old Satanic media overlord in order to draw the public’s attention from starving children. Maybe the fact that her and John Mayer didn’t work out is because she was frigid and seventeen and gave head like it.
But we are never, ever ever getting back together and I just wanna dance around and sing about it ok?