Wednesday, December 21, 2016

The Esteemed Critic Chooses Five Songs to Describe 2016

The President Elect likes his baby meat rare, I hear.

Another year has gone and passed, and we all had quite a terrible time of it, I must say. In addition to the loss of musical geniuses Prince and David Bowie, the United States of America elected noted cretin and professional bore Donald Trump to the highest office in the land. It is ironic to the Critic that the political party that is always complaining about the decline of Western civilization threw its ideals to the wind and boarded the Trump train, but what place has irony in politics? What place do reason and thoughtful discourse have in this brave new world? One has to wonder what will happen to art, true art, that is, the kind of art that I have long been a purveyor of, as opposed to the consumerist detritus most of the country consumes. There is little money in true art, and money has been voted to the top of the political food chain. No one will be paid except for those who have plenty, but I suppose if we are not all annihilated during the course of the next four years, some notable art will be produced.

To celebrate the conclusion of this awful year, the Critic has decided to pick five songs that describe what it was like to live through 2016. You all are forewarned: do not listen to these songs in a row unless you wish to accelerate the creeping ennui you feel. Please remove all sharp objects and firearms from your vicinity before enduring the gauntlet I have prepared. The Critic bears no responsibility for lives lost while reading his work. With that being said, let us commence with our baleful task.

Song #1) Limp Bizkit's Nookie

Do you remember what it was like to be teenage boy during the new millennium? This song brings back the awfulness of the Critic's adolescence. In this choosing, Fred Durst represents the angry white male, who in the blindness of his anger, supported an unskilled demagogue out of a misguided assumption that said demagogue would to something to alleviate his pain. They did it all for the nookie, America, so we can take that cookie and shove it up our asses! Unfortunately for them, the Cheeto in Chef enjoys shoving cookies up everyone's anuses. Prince told us what it sounded like when doves cry. Limp Bizkit lets us know what it sounds like when a hemorrhoid bursts.

Song #2) Trace Adkins' Honky Tonk Badonkadonk

I can see you now, gentle reader, saying to yourself "aw, shucks, that ol' Critic just don't like to have any fun!" How perceptive of you, reader. I truly loathe "fun," but if "Honky Tonk Badonkadonk" is one's idea of a good time, then perhaps you should get someone to drive you to the mental health ward where they will determine in no uncertain terms what exactly is wrong with you. This song represents the uneducated masses who are barely sentient enough to tie their own shoes, let alone pay attention to politics.

Song #3) The Black Eyed Peas My Humps

"My humps! My humps! My lovely lady lumps!" If our President Elect were not so scared of black people, I could see his liking this song. Of course, when the detention camps are founded, and his bandmates will be among the first to be committed. Small justice, that. My Humps represents the glorification of petty vices.

Song #4) Taylor Swift Shake It off

The Critic would like to know when Taylor Swift became an institution. Every single song she has ever written is about a goddamn high school romance or break up. I know it is pedantic of me to critique a pop musician for writing about relationships, but for Christ's sake, give it a rest, girl. I challenge anyone to tell me why this song was a hit. It has little melody, and the chorus is repetitive, incoherent drivel. The Ryan Adams cover was even worse, but I chose to mitigate your horror. You are welcome. The Critic chose this song for its mediocrity, because "mediocre" is my word of the year for 2016.

Song #5) Ween's You Fucked Up

Okay, the Critic takes it back. He actually kind of likes this song. 2016 was a fuck up. It was a stopgap on the road of human progress, a bellwether toward reactionary revisionism. We do not need anymore of 2016. Hope springs eternal, eh? 

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