An electric mix of musical pop-art, an elaborate display of rock and roll aesthetic and the meanest electro-burlesque sensation to throb through the massive vibrating dildo that is the music industry, I introduce to you, the acclaimed LADY GAGA.
As you may have gathered from my last post, I am a celebrator of the 80s as one of the most explicitly creative and equally whimsical epochs in social and cultural history. It was an era that lured us from the sublime to the utterly ridiculous, a time where bathos reigned over the culture industries. So why did we love the 80s? The answer is simple; it pushed us to get over ourselves. It was a time of satire and irony, the fashion industry deployed ‘shock and awe’ tactics, allowing little modes of escapism to seep into our everyday lives. Now, in a similar economically depressive and self-obsessive time, the 80s esprit de corps has manifested itself in the multiplicitous embodiment that is Lady Gaga, who beckons us to look at our pathetic, dim little lives and to electrify it with the escapism of art and aesthetic.
Since the music industry has always had its cock in our arses, there’s no wonder why we felt empty, emotionless and used for most of the 90s, just look at what they gave us, shit boy bands, shit girl bands, depressing lyricists in indie bands and scary rapsters, whose music was riddled with the hardships of real life. Needless to say, of course we had our triumphs in the music industry of the 90s, but for the most part it was shit and waaaaay to self-reflective. So we kind of felt a bit like cheap ass hookers, the industry got its bit, we took it hard, we faked orgasms of pleasure when N’SYNC came out with a new hit single, and then felt further degraded when they threw us a measly manufactured pop group from such shows as POP STARS, as a reward for our sweaty, sexual efforts.
So when Lady Gaga came rippling through the industry in a wave of ecstasy and controversial pleasure, it felt like the 80s all over again. With the mantra of “Why not?” of art and beauty and fuck-ups, and sexuality and satire, we had ourselves, at last, a genuine artistic freakshow that we couldn’t take our eyes off. Britney almost had it, but we knew her too well, it was as disturbing as watching your sister grows breasts and her exploits were just too...familiar. Gaga on the other hand arrived on the scene like a gyrating, sexed up avant-garde pornstar, so it was all groovy when the music industry stiffened its flaccid self up a bit, we certainly felt the tweak and boom the era of unfulfilling heavy petting and seedy massages were over, with Gaga here, we were all getting much more pleasure.
That is why we love her, our Lady Gaga. Who doesn’t love that which gives them a tingling pleasure in their nether regions? And while the industry vibrator is whizzing at maximum force, you simply can’t but scream “YES...MORE...YES...MORE..OH.YESSSSSS”, now can you? So sit back, stick on a porno and enjoy it while the battery life lasts, my guess is that she’s packing energizer, rechargeables.
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