‘I Touched Oli Sykes And Curtis Touched My Boobs!’:
“I GOT COMPLIMENTED BY EVERYONE IN THE BAND ABOUT MY BOOBS, EXCEPT FOR OLI HE WAZ LIKE..REALLY PISSED HAHA.BUT YEAH ME CURTIS AND SOME OTHER DUDE SANDWICHED…AND I KISSED THE SINGER FROM THE GHOST INSIDE! …AND I GOT HIS EMAIL JEALOUS BITCHS?”
“THAT’S RIGHT IM AMAZING! I got spat on by oli annnnd omg just an AMAZING NIGHT”
Thus reads a post on a Sydney hardcore message board, written by a clearly enamoured 16 year old Sydney lass. And thus marks my distraught spiral into an emotion presently undefined but which sits nicely between unbridled, bladder busting amusement and ‘Wont somebody PLEASE think of the children’ Age columnist- type devastating concern for young ladies everywhere.
Where does one start when analysing such prose? How about; WHATTTHEFUCKISSANDWHICHING? Is this a misappropriation of the act us older kids fondly refer to as spit roasting, or perhaps something more age-appropriate and nutritional?
Either way entire notion that the girl in question was rather ambivalent as to who was grabbing/complimenting/sandwhiching/kissing/spitting on her, so long as they had graced the stage within the previous two hours made me wonder whether this attitude of idol-like lust is responsible for the present increase in young ladies that seem to be taking a fond liking to hardcore/metalcore, particularly of the fashionable scene variety.
Am I selling these girls’ fine taste short, or are they merely being sold short by current pop idols professing their virginity and promoting untouchability? Is hardcore music producing young posterboys for throngs young girls rebelling against daddy, who are signing up to an exaggerated ‘emo’ stereotype to grab attention?
Do you really care? No, probably not. I do care about the new Night Marchers album, though and Say Anything’s In Defense Of The Genre which is out now…. And the fact that I missed Wilhelm on the weekend.
No comments:
Post a Comment