It's another year, another Coachella, and yes, as usual, I'll be one of the creepy dudes leering at you from behind a pair of very cheap, very dark sunglasses.
But enough about me. Let's talk about music.
OK, so that's kind of misleading. We can't actually talk about music if we're talking about third-liner Sunday act Flosstradamus, because that would be like calling actual human excrement something you could wipe into your iPod and listen to.
I just can't believe any of these people actually paid to watch these douchebags. Not even ketamine would excuse listening to this.
I'm not totally sure, but I think this is considered "trap" music, and of course "trap" is an anagram for "blowing chunks out of my nose while getting curbed by nazi skinheads."
Or something like that.
Like seriously. They're on the second line of the poster on Sunday after the headliner. Is Coachella really that desperate to find new acts, or do people actually want to hear queefs sampled over a 400-pound Arkansonian dealing poorly with Montezuma's revenge?
If this is trap, I was wrong when I said music couldn't get any worse than US dubstep. Actually, there are genres that are far worse than dubstep, but I think trap has got to be right down there catchin' the fecal matter of all other artists above them, including the gabber elite.
Gabber. Until Flosstradamus, the worst music on the planet
Perhaps I've become my father at last, but as I told my man Mike, avoid at all costs. Cut off a limb if you have to, but if you get anywhere near these morons or their even more idiotic fans, you're sure to get covered in whatever that shit-spooge is that's spewing from the speakers.
1 comment:
let the Coachella mean & deep reviews begin!
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