Gaga Over Gaga.
I am not sure if stewing in my bedroom with a pile of papers and mess, pacing aimlessly around the living room, and thinking of what to eat at 3.19pm have resulted in the following breaking news but I am now a fan of Lady Gaga. [Cue the sonata allegro from Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5 in C Minor]. Er. No, apocalypse has not descended, this is merely, revelation and discerning taste. I hereby pronounce that Lady Gaga is the Mcdonald’s of music. So bad that it is actually good for you. So good that you just have to have it. And once you had it, you just can’t stop it. Lady Gaga is comfort food, she does what 9-piece Chicken Mcnuggets plus a medium fries do to me at 2:27am. Gratifying? Check. Sinful? Check. Soulful? Check. Guilty? As charged.
While the revered Lady Gaga continues to aurally assail the ears of music snobs let me tell you something, the force is palpable, strong and you shall succumb, because once you’ve been touched by the grace of Her Highness Gaga, there is no turning your back on all things fun, pop, graphic and over-the-top. So to the fans of obtuse cum jarring licks who often disassociate themselves from the mainstream fare, in the name of the entertainment, I suggest you give this Gaga Lady a go, because she not only does her job, she does it hell, well.
Oh, just so you know, this dedicated entry about Lady Gaga stemmed from the fact that Bad Romance just sets the perfect mode for the mandatory bedroom dancing. Ga Ga, ooh la la.