Alright. I know that I have, perhaps, overdone the Joanna Newsom thing. Other than the fact that I've had multiple orgasms listening to Ys over the past few days (Multiple! Multiple!) I should really cut back on bombarding you, my fanciful readers, with too much News-some (see what I did there?)
However! Finding this video was like stepping onto a landmine that, instead of blowing up and relieving me of this life, spewed shit all up in my pants and shirt. Even beneath my eyelids. I can't stop staring at it even when my eyes are closed. It stings. It stings.
I must share my pain with you, fanciful readers, because I hate all of you. But instead I mean the opposite of that, I love you all and I want you to see what this YouTube has wrought.
I don't claim to understand these strange people who bump and/or grind to the hip-hops on YouTube.com but I have always looked at them as if peering through a portal of stupidity; as if I, in some life, could have been one of those gentlemen shuffling and mouthing the words to Sexyback and imagining that I were, in fact, bringing the sexy back to our physical plane from an alternate dimension it was trapped in because it played ouija board and Magic Cards at the same time. These people I have always bemusedly viewed as absurd but harmless because their music tastes were like the jingling of keys to my jangling of chains. Chains made of out metal.
In other words, their apple shaped music tastes were so unlike my orange shaped music tastes that I was able to distance myself. but no more. The music I love has been pillaged, razed, raped, murdered, and, worst of all, forced to watch a non-stop marathon of That's so Raven.
An adolescent tribal dance to "Peach, Plum, Pear", verging on homosexual experimentation, awaits you behind that oh-so-familiar sideways isosceles. These girls know how to shimmy, hop, play patty cake, and wear their grandmother's jewelry!
Actually, I shouldn't be such an asshole. They're showing their appreciation for the music through meticulously crafted choreography. Plus Kitsch and I are going to do our own dance to Wolf Eyes.
Edit: Soon after posting:
~Binarynatalie: ps you're completely and hopelessly obsessed with newsom
clevabeans: I know
clevabeans: I know
The Cap'n
- Cap'n Guthrie
- Brooklyn, New Dork, United States
- I've never eaten a sandwich that I didn't like, but I guess I could conceive of some I wouldn't like. ____________________________________ If any record label, artist, or human being would like me to remove any recorded track, video, or any other type of media I can't think of now, please let me know and it will be removed promptly.
5 comments:
That actually frightened me. Why? Why would you show that to anyone? I'm going to go huddle in the corner, and rock to-and-fro to the beat of that song.
i think the most unfortunate part of that video is that somewhere along the way, the skinny dump turned to the round dump (or viceversa) and said "hey, you know that excrucatingly embarassing thing we did in yr bedroom and taped for some reason? no, not that thing, the dancing thing? right. i think that belongs on the internet so that anyone who searches 'joanna newsom' can find it." and then the other one says "yes. i'm totally fine with random pretentious music bloggers watching me shake awkwardly with you in front of a camera. i hope they, in turn, point their friends in our direction so they can squirm with discomfort." this conversation definitely happened.
definitely. defiantly. defecatesquely.
I wonder if Ms. Newsom searches the youtube.com? I hope not, she might stop doing music.
Or stop talking, which would be better.
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