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In my opinion, she crippled her own momentum by releasing 'Adore You' under the delusion that song had any hope of being a hit instead of the near guaranteed smash and genuinely awesome song 'FU'. The entire mix on the majority of this album has the sound of being half-melted in the sizzling California sun and reeking of cheap wine, really bad weed, and jizz, and the fact that nearly every single song runs long and lacks driving momentum makes it all the worse. Miley has never had that restraint, considering the massive overcompensation that has come with the burning of her child star image and her appropriation of whatever she can to flesh out an artistic identity. But here's where we get to the point that legitimately pisses me off about this album, because you get songs like 'Pavlow The Blowfish' which actually got me to give a shit about her emotional investment in the loss of a fish, or 'Twinkle Song', where she tries to interpret her dreams about what love means in a way that I could be incredibly uncharitable about and cut through the faux poetry about her bending good music over the table, but there was a rawness and passion that I got behind For a solid six months on the back half of , Miley was dominant in the cultural conversation, for better or worse, and then it all fizzled out. That said, there are a few moments, mostly when the mix strips down a bit, that get listenable: From the VMA performance in that catapulted Miley Cyrus back into the public eye for better or worse to the album Bangerz, a record that was really all over the place to be salvaged beyond a few genuine gems, to the uneasy collaborations with hip-hop artists that created abortions like '23'. This is where the first big problem that spans the entire record crops up:

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Yeah, can't get too vulnerable or real, can you Miley, you might actually make real art or something! Frankly when this album is at its best in terms of the writing are the more straightforward and sincere love and relationship songs like 'Fweaky' and 'I Get So Scared' and 'Lighter' that prove if Miley wanted to ground her material in real emotion, she could make some decent music. I'm of two minds when it comes to this album. Not only that, it was over ninety minutes long over twenty-three tracks, all the more proof that there had been no restraint in its creation. This isn't avart-garde or genre-pushing, but a grotesquely indulgent catastrophe of a record where the moments of quality I'm convinced are here by accident, a badly mixed, sloppily performed, juvenile excuse for psychedelia that's a blemish on everyone's records. For a solid six months on the back half of , Miley was dominant in the cultural conversation, for better or worse, and then it all fizzled out. In my opinion, she crippled her own momentum by releasing 'Adore You' under the delusion that song had any hope of being a hit instead of the near guaranteed smash and genuinely awesome song 'FU'. It became even more evident when Miley severed her ties to Dr. Luke - the same producer who prevented Kesha's collaboration album with The Flaming Lips from getting released - because apparently he hates free festival publicity - amongst more horrid accusations that has seemed to stall Kesha's career indefinitely in lawsuits. And before we get to Miley herself, let's talk about the guest stars. And then at the end of each song, she hits one staccato note on the table, swears in a perfectly normal voice, and the atmosphere is shattered. And it's a complete slap in the face to anyone who actually thinks there's a modicum of depth or emotional honesty here and tries against all odds to give her the benefit of the doubt. But then we have 'Bang Me Box' which might be one of the least sexy songs about lesbianism hookups I've heard in years in terms of the writing and performance, or the environmentalist rant that is '1 Sun', or the smeared over 'sex jams' that are 'Milky Milky Milk' or 'Slab Of Butter Scorpion ' that just make the sex sound sweaty, gross, and incredibly unattractive. And then she announced an album from out of nowhere and it made way too much sense - she needed something to boost the hype behind an album with no lead off single, no momentum, and the only shock value coming from the fact it was mainly produced by the Flaming Lips and had Phantogram and Ariel Pink on it! It cast her infamous performance into sharp relief - the shock might have worked twerking against Robin Thicke, but with no momentum, her attempts to throw herself into the drama of Nicki Minaj and Taylor Swift or squeal raucously after Kanye's polemic, it reeked of desperation. Frankly, when she isn't buried behind filters or gratuitous autotune and actually emotes, she's a powerful singer - the problem is that on a twenty-three track album, we maybe get four or five songs where that happens. And then came the rumours leaking out that Miley had gone back into the studio to work and do drugs with Wayne Coyne and later showed up on his Beatles tribute album With A Little Help From My Fwends, so you knew the favour was bound to be returned in full. I listened through this hour-and-a-half album six or seven times trying to untangle the half-heard incoherence behind Miley's rambling trying to find the meaning of love amidst crippling loss - the title is not a joke, there are several songs about dead pets on this album and only one that evokes memories of Henry Gross' execrable song 'Shannon' from And on that note, might as well go to the lyrics and themes. The problem is that for so much of this album, the stoned out haze means she's half-slurring or crooning her lines, and not only looks sloppy, but amateurish and juvenile. Sure, I like more of her lower range on tracks like '1 Sun' where it sounds like she's doing a Lady Gaga impression, but the real stunner was the belting she did on 'Twinkle Song' or even the half-crying she did on 'The Floyd Song Sunrise ' or 'Pablow The Blowfish' - you might not like her shrill, ear-bleeding tones and the sloppy multitracking makes Deradoorian's elegance all the more attractive, but there is raw charisma there when she tries. So fast-forward to the annual craziness that was the VMAs, where Nicki Minaj buried the hatchet with Taylor and Kanye tried to filter through incoherent honesty Think about it, the signs were all there. The entire mix on the majority of this album has the sound of being half-melted in the sizzling California sun and reeking of cheap wine, really bad weed, and jizz, and the fact that nearly every single song runs long and lacks driving momentum makes it all the worse. And folks, I tried. And the most pathetic thing is that I don't even think Miley understands that's she's doing it, which highlights what this album is:

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4 thoughts on “Gay sex public sex jericho turnpike”

  1. This is where the first big problem that spans the entire record crops up: But here's where we get to the point that legitimately pisses me off about this album, because you get songs like 'Pavlow The Blowfish' which actually got me to give a shit about her emotional investment in the loss of a fish, or 'Twinkle Song', where she tries to interpret her dreams about what love means in a way that I could be incredibly uncharitable about and cut through the faux poetry about her bending good music over the table, but there was a rawness and passion that I got behind

  2. It became even more evident when Miley severed her ties to Dr. And the parallel is important here:

  3. From the VMA performance in that catapulted Miley Cyrus back into the public eye for better or worse to the album Bangerz, a record that was really all over the place to be salvaged beyond a few genuine gems, to the uneasy collaborations with hip-hop artists that created abortions like '23'.

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