Tag Archives: ARTPOP

Vinyl Cut Prose: The Hills Are Alive… with the sound of muses

I riffed on The Sound of Music tribute at The 87th Annual Academy Awards Ceremony for ten minutes and twenty-eight seconds: this is the verbatim transcription…

So it would seem the hills are alive with the sound of music… the Hollywood Hills to be exact, this night, this beautiful night, Oscar Sunday… and amidst all of the flashing lights, Mother Monster, the pop mistress, the matriarch of music on behalf of a flailing industry – thought to be dead thought to be gone, thought to be sold out – rose to the occasion only to prove that all the charlatans were dead wrong.

Music is that which cements the experience of any moment, that auditory moment where those aural architects, as I said before, are able to manipulate the invisible… to be able to tap into those currents and those frequencies that you cannot see, but that you can feel stronger than any other sensory experience you’ve ever felt before… when you close your eyes, and you can feel your heart beat. When you close your eyes, and you can feel the goosebumps rising; when you can feel that ugly duckling becoming that beautiful swan, rising above it all because it found the rhythm, and it could never fall – it would falter – but never off that cliff never to never be seen again…

Continue reading Vinyl Cut Prose: The Hills Are Alive… with the sound of muses

#andscene: ep. 12.28.27

mood: going through my closets finding clothes that poets rhyme… 

ring: i’ve overheard your theory, “nostalgia’s for geeks…” i guess, sir, if you say so – some of us just like to read. one second i’m a muse, then suddenly the muse is three. pop culture was in art, now art and pop culture in me…

Continue reading #andscene: ep. 12.28.27

Vinyl Cut Prose: “Cheek to Cheek” – Lady GaGa, Tony Bennett

Cheek to Cheek is an aural alloy of the most masterful. Elements converge in a record album of jazz standards and one-take suzies, tears and tempos, fine-tuned fibres of the greatest art form to emerge from this American soil… classical and contemporary pillars found a musical canon of the most necessary, that which maintains the known order between high art and popular culture by collaboration and hybrid creation… in its pairing of Tony Bennett and Lady GaGa, the immense everything of said reality (think about it, think harder) Cheek to Cheek is ARTPOP, Vol. II.


If, IF I were to blinkk this I’d probably say… don’t rush it, let it linger and waft along those invisible currents only the audible architects can manage to manipulate with their coursing lyrics and lifted crescendos…

For a girl who doesn’t wear pants, who dons only the holiest of stockings… and for a gentleman who watches an industry of beat-backed four-letter woes, where he once wailed infinite rhythms of legendary prose – anything goes. What’s old is new, and what’s new is never lost, just hidden beneath the aura of pop culture:

[Tony Bennett:]
The world has gone mad today
And good’s bad today

[Lady Gaga:]
And day’s night today
And black’s white today

[Tony Bennett:]
When most guys today that women prize today

[Lady Gaga:]
Are just silly gigolos

Heaven… I’m in Heaven… rocket number nine blast off to the planet: Heaven. Upon the melodious manifesto of eponymous nomination, one must step back from the phonograph and ask themselves: “What is an artRAVE, really and truly, beyond a neon-flashed, adrenaline-fueled speakeasy of the cheekiest nature? Boy…” When is the last time you saw divinely choreographed dialogues between musically-driven facades and figures… dancing and bad romancing in the elevated state of sonic sublime…

It was at this point in time when I pressed pause and decided, this is not a blinkk… I cannot contain the breadth of this “beat.” So, I tried something new… I riffed for a few… fifteen to be generally exact… because, well, this is The Fame... part forever and always.



I riffed about Cheek to Cheek for fourteen minutes and fifteen seconds into a recording device. This is the verbatim transcription:

Continue reading Vinyl Cut Prose: “Cheek to Cheek” – Lady GaGa, Tony Bennett

EP. 27.6 : when i trance

Feel alive.

Pulse the signature sound as apropos a sonic aesthetic as any you could possibly fathom. Be the rainbow coalition rallying cry emerging as the pulse of the marginalized and socially-oppressed communities. The uber-derivative genre infusing indigenous sounds with new synth technology. The cultural anomaly with which to be reckoned, that self-contextualized subculture hidden-in-plain-view.

Be the rainbow-haired bad romancer emerging as the pulse of the Generation Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell fringe networks. Bathe in uber-derivative artistry. Pull identity from Lorca, Queen, Motley Crue, In Living Color, Peggy Bundy, Kardinal Offishall, Stanley Kubrick, Yoko Ono. Wear it. Infuse influence with modern Pop veneer. Bear the cultural anomaly with which to be reckoned, that self-contextualized subversive supernova hidden-in-plain-view, the bleeding red corpse of American celebrity hanging from the rafters.


Continue reading EP. 27.6 : when i trance

re:verse : “PARTYNAUSEOUS” – Lady GaGa

Good music speaks volumes… listen, look, and linger in fantastic rhythmic reality: lyrically speaking


Hi, I want to come and make peace with you
but they won’t let me, no, they won’t let me through
I don’t mind if they a-arrest me
’cause I’m wearing my Versace

Why can’t we just put on a smile
and a buzz buzz buzz buzz? We all might be sick
Whether it’s at first or after a few
drinks; we’re gonna unite, don’t they?

Continue reading re:verse : “PARTYNAUSEOUS” – Lady GaGa

re:verse : “Donatella” – Lady GaGa

Good music speaks volumes… listen, look, and linger in fantastic rhythmic reality: lyrically speaking

“Donatella,” ARTPOP (2013)

I am so fab
Check out,
I’m blonde,
I’m skinny,
I’m rich,
and I’m a little bit of a bxxch

[Verse 1]
I wanna dress you up in silk, Taffeta
Tailor these clothes to fit your guilt, what’s your size?
This purse can hold my black card and tiara
Versace promises I will, Dolce Vita

Continue reading re:verse : “Donatella” – Lady GaGa

Unforgettable, Vol. 22 :: Lady GaGa: G.U.Y. – An ARTPOP Film

We are the music-makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams… four years ago we pulled a stunt that went and turned into a scene

#kanyeshrugsandpoplove #electricworldlife

G.U.Y. – An ARTPOP Film:


I know. But I can’t stay up here on my hill forever.

#queenedknight #kingdomed

ARTPOP ... facing glamorous cruelty in Spears subtext and fantasy
ARTPOP … facing glamorous cruelty in Spears subtext and fantasy


I didn’t get to this place in my life by doing the smart thing every time. How ’bout you, frank farmer? Out there on the edge… did you ever do something that didn’t make too much sense, except maybe inside you? In your stomach somewhere? Something that wasn’t smart? I’ll bet you have plenty. I’ll bet you do. Nobody gets really good without it. And you’re good. I know that. – Ms. Marron

#neverforget #girlunderguardian

I suppose the only way to take this one sonically is through the sounds of an autobiography… at this point in my pop literary career with a one said Lady, certain signatures will emerge at some point within each piece – namely: each release being #theanthem, each release “solidifying this time and space voice of twain,” and autobiographical points of reference expounding on the sheer cosmic Pop of said beat drops. #postoculus #postpop This time, will be no different #letsdelve


… and on the sixth day GaGa unearthed the feast, saw everything that she had gamed… and behold: it was very good

The scene opens and I feel the last four movies I watched on Netflix (America The Beautiful, Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room, Boogie Man: The Lee Atwater Story, and Outfoxed: Rupert Murdoch’s War on Journalism ) “How do you tell a twelve year old they’re being manufactured for disposal?” echoes beneath sounds of the digital stock market, laser arcades and electronic abacuses blend with footsteps over barren plantations of the The Deep South’s perpetual state of reconstruction.

FOX News anchors divulge contents of executive morning gag-ordering memorandum for daily broadcasts, Former California Governor Gray Davis recalls the Summer of 2001 when Arnold Schwarzenegger took his position on the wings of George Bush and Ken Layforever the manufactured blackout, roll tide.

The rise of the South, crimson syndication – Carolinian Lee Atwater’s landmark Reagan / Bush campaign victories premised upon political theater at the expense of a misinformed public, Enron’s ascent from Texas prestige to global market dominance at the expense of $38B from California – the swelter of the Swine lingering ever-so-close by; the deserted landscape of our spectacular marketplace, entertainment and speculation, valuation on manufactured ideologies … and in the midst is the artifact, beneath the data-driven logistical bottom line: art as fact is buried.

ARTPOP Title Card


It is no longer enough to be good, to be well-made, of inspired design, of impeccable craftsmanship, to be one of a kind – to transcend scalable. In fact, it is a loss; time spent maturing is a liability – “either die or don’t die, just let me know if it’s the first one so I can get a grip and camera guy.

I see #sxswine heading up the hill. GaGa face down – in clothes not incredibly dissimilar from her Swinecore attire – money scattered, archaeological dig in disarray, Mitochondrial Eve rests in Mesopoptamian ruins… and the scene begins where Austin faded

In case you were wondering what’s behind the swine … existence of the living gold mine … the reality that human traffic runs through vinyl, video, and grapevine … that spectacular misery is of industrial design … that the vomit you spew, pre-emptive anesthetic to the polity coup: our very own blood red, sterilized white, and royal blue … the surrender in silence, the deafening void, the sadness… the sadness… the lament and suffocating isolation of that human capital demise … that behind the lids are empty exes where once haused Tiresian eyes.



VENUS Interlude

The scene shifts, I feel the movie I was in the middle of watching on Netflix when a majestic eclectic heralded G.U.Y.’s arrival: Disney’s Hercules#ayverse

Vinyl Mind Flow #prosewego

Even when you doubt, you cannot deny the truth. In the beginning, was the word, and the word was good; in the end, all that remains is that seminal word to rebuild from the ruins of slander… the only four-letter word from where life springs …. ishq to mark the mortal compass, eros to transform, love to transcend.

The electric world life: owning nothing in the Haus, all is had in electric word; all is manifest from mental creations given wings within tangled webs … beneath the static, found frequencies connect and channel perceived truths as canons of a new world. Bound not by domains, built instead upon the orbits of psychopomp relays.

It’s not real, it’s theatre; because reality is the illusion of essential materiality … the delusion of juvenile insanity washed away by the beauty in mysterious mentality … the rhythmic word, the love game’s dans … the choreography across this dimension’s canvas …

Magdalene ascends from the realm of lower mystery: Rilke’s triumphant female returns for the first time. The caterpillar sheds its biological echo chamber, claiming imperial divine on behalf of the natural, where fabrics of the regal are indeed invisible in design.

The sin is not the fall, salvation is not in calendar spring; the sin is to see in shame, to bear false witness against the love made manifest in anything: to posture on the production of mortal death to profit from false life … to fragment, displace, and deny the father his liberated child of light and she, who cultivates endlessly those creations of which never die at night – forever beautysleeping in a trance, but never sleeping to dream, the perceived pain in work, and the beautiful bond of shared experiences yet to be unscene.

That G.U.Y. … makes me want to be a doper person; that G.U.Y., made GaGa cry tears and tempos of cosmic civilization’s arising reign – those G.U.Y.s stepped foot on the shores of a celestial sandbar four years ago: baptized by the stellar, bound to the state, burdened by paradoxes that make us great… silently rolling, navigating while blind, guided only by the music and faith that in time, the walls would crumble and the streets would main, Valhalla would rejoice at The Angels’ true frame, the disparate light would emerge from the dim; and The South would walk through antiquated resentment, to bathe in capital h.i.m.

… four years ago: a maker was met, as moonwalkers first stepped onto the currents beyond wires; houses of song where once wrested lyres …


ARTPOP could mean anything, ARTPOP means what you make of the muse; ARTPOP means mastering the verse, chorus, choreography, bridge, breakdown and sample of life’s cyclical soundtrack. ARTPOP is crafting an atmosphere in the perfection of your mind, from truth of the spirit, the pulse of your heart, and absolute certainty in the mysterious divine. Four years ago a king said, “This is it;” here that G.U.Y. says: “Now, it’s time.”


The secret language of G.U.Y.’s destiny is transcendence through empowered innocence of love eternal