WOW I am just so livid right now. I can hardly concentrate long enough on a topic to write it out because something else flashes across my mind that ticks me off even more. BEYONCE not getting that award is the biggest slap in the face to black excellence i have ever witnessed. I truly wish i was better at expressing my feelings in text but im honestly too frustrated to think straight and even if i was i don’t think its possible to address all of the ways in which this snub was wrong. The impact LEMONADE has made, is making, and will continue to make is worth so much more than a golden statue. It truly is just an award show (an award show that has lost its true impact a long time ago at that) but for ANYONE to sit down and honestly vote any of those albums over lemonade is flat out delusion.
This album means so much to me and many other black people across the globe and we wont ever forget it. At the end of the day i just DESPERATELY hope Beyonce knows that. I hope she knows how valued and loved she is for everything shes done with her life and for what she will do for however many years she has left. We love you @beyonce. Please. I beg you. Please know that.
I feel like Calum wouldn’t like to show it, but he wouldn’t like it when you’d blast Justin Bieber’s new album in your flat. After a few hours of hearing you singing along, he would finally suggest you could listen to All Time Low or something. “He isn’t that good, Y/N,” he’d say. You’d lift your eyebrows, press your lips into a tight line, “But he has like 30 million followers more than you on Instagram.” Calum’s mouth would slightly open, but he’d close it a second after. “I don’t care about that,” he’d say. “Now that I’ve mentioned it, you do,” you’d reply, a smirk on your face. You didn’t care about that at all, but Cal’s reaction was funny. “I don’t really like you,” he’d say with a serious tone before leaving the room, making you laugh. “IT’S NOT FUNNY, Y/N.”
It’s certainly rich for two white men from the Tory capital of the country to call themselves Slaves. It’s also certainly bloody rich for them to masquerade as skinhead punk rockers “sticking it to the man" when they’re wetter than diarrhoea and stand for fucking nothing.
That’s what this album is. Nothing. Opening song “The Hunter” contains the lyric “you don’t like what we do because we say what we think and that shocks and frightens you”. Remind me what you are saying? I’ve worked zero-hour jobs before too, and the difference is I actually have something to say about it, not the vaguest smarmy rhetoric that is as vacuous as the black hole of nothing this album and its scuzzy, ugly riffs occupy.
The singles are at least catchy, but musically the album falls completely flat. “Sockets” has less dynamics than TV static, “Ninety Nine” has the fucking nerve to copy the same musical aesthetic as Sleaford Mods (an infinitely better lo-fi working-class punk duo) and the last track “Sugar Coated Bitter Truth” is the band trying to do a haunting ballad and cocking everything up about it.
“Do Something” features frontman Isaac Holman blaring “if you’re not moving, do something” over Laurie Vincent’s looming guitar riffs, Vincent seriously ripping off Steve Ignorant from fucking Crass (seriously, fuck you for doing that). The effect is cruel, sarcastic, patronising, and that sums up the whole album.
The video for recent single “Cheer Up London" was released on the same day that the people of Britain woke up to the news of five more years of a Conservative government; five more years of division, suffering and death under the policies of austerity. Meanwhile, these two fake pricks milk the sufferings of the disaffected youth who need to know where to focus their anger, and they’re laughing to the fucking bank. Nothing on this album is heartfelt. Nothing on this album means anything. This album is disgusting and offensive. Take the money you’d blow on a Slaves show and look up Martha, Sleaford Mods, Skinny Girl Riot, the many other bands that are plugging at the UK DIY circuit who don’t have the benefit of getting lucky and bedding an NME/Radio 1 rep. Because this band don’t deserve your support. I’m not fucking satisfied.
The First time we hit Berlin, after London Calling came out, I was sitting at this cafe, talking to this 16-year old skinhead. He was saying he was horrified, that he couldn’t stand it, because his grandmother was grooving around to the London Calling album in his flat.