If you dig the mix then please feel free to pass & post it along; if you dig a particular artist then please support them and go out and pick up some of their stuff.
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At the time most music placed before her demographic as if a water dish was likely either a permitted and voluntary caricature of some ethnicity insistently listing their abundance of “strut and trade of charms/On the ivory stages” (as Dylan Thomas once put it); or only a more marketable rendition of yesterday’s latest underground scene and sound only now featuring trim, young, white men, glum in clean but rugged garments whining inconsiderately about girls and their own victimhood through a cold compress of sheet metal guitars and a firm verse-chorus-verse structure; or a costumed, European button-pusher simply content to get no more than an oblivious dance from a hormone-bleary crowd. Likewise there was the supposed hybrid: the novel blend of rap’s sing-song aggression with the puerile roar and motorized hoof of heavy rock, now down-tuned and bled of melody, delivered by chubby drop-outs that spent their tax-returns on new tattoos and hair-gel. In eight years time they could release their disintegration diaries, which would detail where the money was wasted, divorce, divorce, and how they overcame their dependence on Jägermeister mixed with stimulant thirst-quenchers. Then there was as a matter of course the ubiquitous discount product of synchronized teens; boys and girls grouped by what would have the most appeal on a poster. Many of their songs were sold exclusively through one burger franchise or various other thawed meat meal abattoir by-product outlets. With frosted tips and tart pastry appearance, some cleavage and practiced discotheque choreography—they had all undergone a cosmetic reduction of particulars to leave them propped up perfectly on the tedious axis of human symmetry. These units were always either sliding towards the camera through ballads drenched in warm milk and corn or performing a fastened pounce and jerk in unison to up-tempo pop-tunes with themes of puppy love that just might drop a hint or two to their pubescent audience about what pleasures await them: various configurations of hands, mouth, anus, scrotum, penis, ass, labia, clitoris, breasts, and vagina.
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