There isn't much time anymore. Its been a constantly changing world, from the early days of calm, laid-back, easy-going, cave-dwelling, stone-carving neanderthals. Now, we rush from one event to another, briskly changing partners, fashions, diets, noses, cell-phones, cars, furniture, religions, nationality, and even gender. Sometime, somewhere, some idiot started a rat race, and enrolled us all. And we've had to keep on running ever since. One revolution follows another. We find our surroundings in constant change, upheaval, and renovation to keep up with that what we do not yet know. It shall be finished by the time we understand it. So, we close our eyes to all sense. And we run as fast as we can.
The leaders of the race shall always be those who are practical, precise and to the point. Its true.
And I have one winning example/exhibit to prove my point.
I'll be right here now. Let me know once you're done looking.
Right. So. How. Why. What. Huh. Hold on, I'm still memorizing it. I can anticipate your obvious reactions. But bear with me awhile longer.
Music, dear readers, is a marker of our times, our cultures, our creative spark, our mental hogwash.
It takes a great amount of nerve to be straight and open and honest with millions of brainwashed fans and several million more right-thinking, mentally-developed people around the world. It takes a huge amount of courage to stand up for what you believe. It takes extraordinary self-confidence to hold to your convictions.
They are the leaders of the world. The ones who usher us into new ages of thought, and show us the next step to our progress as an entire species.
How long have we been decaying, as a species, because of what we have defining by that loose term so easily bestowed, 'music'? How long have we been worshipping those same gods who spoke those same hymns and those same anthems and performed those same rituals in front of us since the dawn of the electric guitar age? Enough playing she says, canoodle it already! The fact is our cultural, spiritual and musical progress is at a standstill. We are not exploring. We are not examining. We are not re-evaluating. We, although we didnt realize it till now, have been suffering a deep, melancholic discontent with the state of our world.
It takes, as I said, an extraordinary amount of courage, and self-belief to show the way forward. With her mighty pole, She sweeps off the dust and grime of the ages. Dropping off her top, She wipes off the slime that has stagnated the music industry. With repeated, endless thrusts of Her hips She knocks me to my senses, so that I may once again see, through Her radiant vision (in black and white and also slightly shaky), the beauty that is true music. Its a revolution, be you ready for it or not. It comes now. No more singing about stars, and emotions, and funny feelings in your hearts for 4 whole minutes. No more screaming at the top of your voice so that your love may take you to her heart, about your not wanting to miss a thing, about how she looks wonderful tonight, or even how she already knows you wanna radio-edit "love" her. None of that. End of story. Go home. We just don't have the time.
Like I said right at the start, the secret behind the revolution is:
Cut the crap. Get on with it already. We don't have time to waste. Or words to shower. Or non-sexual dances to entice you with. I'll lay it in front of you, in Her own simple words, so you can maybe finally understand what I'm trying to say.
'Tis a simple word. Gimme. It is a marriage of two even simpler, fairly common words which, put together, express the desires and hopes of hundreds and thousands of men and women around the planet, such being the universal appeal of this song nay anthem - Give me.
Don't ask me questions. Don't ask me why. I do not know. I am merely in the throes of an ecstacy, which comes of infinite joy and devoted worship. Just give me.
And its effect can only be called gigantic. Why only gigantic and not anything else? Because gigantic also begins with a g and contains another one inside. Also, I don't feel like pondering on adjectives too much right now. I am in the midst of a heartfelt tribute, if you didnt notice.
With the grave yet fun, serious yet light, straight but dicey lyrics of her new song, Britney Mata brings us into the new world. Why listen to Elvis cry to himself? Why listen to Clapton's musical rollercoasters of love, and pain and exquisite guitar strains? What are they after really? She's already there.
Bow your heads. And read from the intensely profound lyrics of the snatches I have managed to catch of The Song of The New Revolution. [Please do not be a stupid imbecile and bow your heads so that you cannot read. Just enough so they're bowed technically, but read you can still. Its quite obvious and quite simple. Don't be daft with your cheek. Do it.]
Repeat after me, please.
Gimme gimme. Gimme.
*shake. shake. thrust. thrust*
Gimme gimme. Gimme.
*swing around pole. smile innocently at camera. shake away*
Gimme gimme. Gimme gimme.
*swing again. play with clothes of other similarly beseeching females*
Gimme gimme. Gimme.
*shake shake. thrust thrust straight into the camera*
Gimme. Gimme gimme.
*the top is dropped. a towel wrapped seductively to replace. shake shake*
Gimme more! Gimme more!
*shake. thrust. shake shake thrust shake thrust*
Gimme. Gimme. Gimme gimme.
Amen. A new day has come. I am going to kill myself.