Today is gonna be the day they’re remembered as arrogant pricks who gave us Britpop’s high point and the anthem English fans belt out right before losing on penalties. Champagne Supernovas, lager super-egos.
Glamasaurus Rex. Tragic extinction event robbed us of this fabulous species.
تو قطرهای از اقیانوس نیستی، تو تمام اقیانوسی در قطره
A synth-soaked prophecy of American decline, wrapped in spandex and sprayed with Aqua Net. What masqueraded as a party turned out to be a funeral for nuance—“Hot for Teacher” grins through the collapse of public education, “Panama” worships fossil fuels and male insecurity, and “Jump” offers the kind of motivational poster you'd find taped inside a hedge fund intern’s locker. By the time Dave's libido finished crowd-surfing through Drop Dead Legs, America was already halfway into the mall, wallet open, brain off. In retrospect, 1984 wasn’t the soundtrack to a good time—it was the opening credits of the dumbest timeline and the user manual for late-stage capitalism in tight leather pants.
Stop in the Name of Love and My Girl topped the charts and Goldfinger, My Fair Lady, and The Sound of Music ruled the box office when this sonic fever dream debuted and altered the trajectory of mankind. Obvious desert island disc.
It was a time of known knowns, known unknowns, and unknown unknowns. Friendster promised a future of greater social connectivity, and Nelly's Hot in Herre alerted the masses to the worrying trends of global climate change. America elected it's first idol, Beniffer was born, and Hollywood went full Marvel. Enron and WorldCom presaged an era of corporate trust and accountability, Google promised to do no harm, and Mark Z packed his bags for his Freshman year in Cambridge, Mass. All the while, Norah's simplistic melodies reverberated throughout newly minted Starbucks from sea to shining sea, each note imploring us to take our sweet time kicking down that digital door. But the long day was indeed over; the sun would soon slip below the horizon and darkness set in. A silky smooth salute to times bygone; an ethereal elegy for the analog era.
The album that gave us classic NYT Crossword clue ambient musician Brian.
My name is Samuel, Samuelllllll 1 year and 9 days between American IV and 99 Problems. Rick Rubin a legend.
Never understood the fuss about going to Jackson, Wyoming. Been there, it's fine.
Only WMD dances for me 💣 🧨 🚀 💣🚀💥
Extra star for Buck Owens cover.