If Camp Jacko wants to lash out at an uncaring media a year and a half after the King of Pop's drug-induced demise, that's certainly their prerogative, but it's my prerogative to curl up with primo HIStory Vol. 1 deep cuts that aren't suspect if I want ineffable pop majesty and "It's My Prerogative"—Bobby's version, not Brit-Brit's. Savvy?
The Dum Dum Girls
Delectable in a derivative way, but what isn't these days? Do you think Kristen Hersh rocks Vivian Girls and Ronettes albums on her iPod? Does a "bhang" sound different than a "bang"?
How is it possible that hip hop hasn't totally exhausted the ageless, Pied Piper lure of the ice-cream truck motif by this point? Vanilla Ice could be rapping on this thing and it would still sound crazy dope. "All we rock is ice, all we get is cream!"
Little Wings-esque whimsy and positivism that's probably coming to a flat-screen near you. Take my word for it: You won't be able to listen to this song a year from now without feeling an urge to buy furniture. Quirk-pop's takeover? Complete.
It isn't exploitation if you're actively and enthusiastically involved in the exploitation of your own medically diagnosed case of autism, correct? On the one hand, have we learned nothing from the late Wesley Willis? On the other hand, the queasy admixture of discomfort and inspiration provoked by this teen's unlikely career will all have been worth it if, someday, he actually gets to rap alongside 50 Cent and Mike Tyson in real time. Can Mike Tyson rap?