Suck It, Ben Gibbard: Two Weeks At The Wheel With Lady Gaga
The past two weeks Rocks Off has been driving around Houston with only one disc in his car to listen to. It makes us feel like a billion damned dollars without fail, and can make any banal drive home after the bar feel like even more of a sexy adventure than it already is.
It's not Motorhead, it's not Danzig. It's not Judas Priest, nor is it Slayer. It's motherfunking Lady Gaga.
We will fight for that weird little lady anytime anywhere now. She's our new cause celebre, if we are even allowed to have one. If it makes it any worse, it's an eight-track hits disc we made of our favorite songs culled from her two albums. Suck it, Ben Gibbard.
The other day, on the tenth spin of her "Poker Face" while we were on I-10, we starting feeling something bubble up, and it wasn't that last taco or the last cocktail saying hello. Something started moving inside that we haven't felt in years. We got the same surge out of "Poker Face" that we still get from any number of Misfits songs.
It's all kindergarten simple, and the lyrics are endlessly quotable, even when they remind us of drunken girls talking while in line for the bathroom. "Love Game" has some of the worst lyrics since Owl City's "Fireflies" but that doesn't stop from turning it up when we light up our cigarette off Waugh.
"I'm a free bitch, baby"? We couldn't get down with that sentiment more if we tried and it's liberating to yell too at any point during the day. Isn't that what the Tea Party people cry about? We all wanna be free bitches, it's just that some of know how to convey with more aggression. Who was the last valid artist you remember who inspired costume contests and a whole scene of girls grabbing fashion by its throat. Jenny Lewis isn't doing it. M.I.A is the only other female artist we can thank of who can do it quite honestly.