Rhymes

Hello yo

’Till I Collapse

’Till I Collapse

Eminem
The Eminem Show

This is a great song with some words in it like rockin and we could just be. It's about not overthinking sexual encounters in a club, so pretty groundbreaking material for Abel Tesfaye. Here's another sentence. And one more line please, thankyou.

queerness · counterculture · funk · pride · empowerment · sexuality

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The song opens with a strong, sexy riff: an elastic bass guitar twang that stretches upwards before snapping back in on itself, a tambourine tapping out a pulse. The riff repeats, and a bright synth blossoms colourfully - a sparkly, spacey sound that defines this song in its most jazzy moments. A snare kicks open the bar and the guitar jams as Janelle Monáe begins to sing, the synths introducing themselves playfully into the background.

Her voice is dynamic and flexible. She has bent it many different ways over her three albums, from the almost almost medieval crooning of Sir Greendown all the way to the punk roar of Come Alive (War Of The Roses). She is a consummate performer, more often than not appearing under some version of her alter ego: Cindi Mayweather - an android from the year 2719. What, so I have to make this problem.

 
    
 
    

Monáe has a fine line to walk, between appeal and integrity. It's an ideal both explored in her own art (see the diplomatic balancing act of Tightrope) and exemplified in the creative environment she cultivates around herself with her collection of artists at Wondaland. Of her approach towards making thoughtful conscious music, she said in a Guardian interview that: 'Sometimes when a child has to take medicine it must be delivered inside his favourite food. You have to figure out how you can make your message palatable for those who may not want to hear.'

Rhyme notes

Here is some information that goes in to another section. But it's in a box so people will read it more! Here's another line of meaningless text.

It would take me a lot more space than I have here to go into all the references and lore from her concept albums so far, although it is fascinating: leave that to Laura Sterritt in this detailed article from 2013. I will say that she uses the figure of Cindi to explore all manner of ideas to do with love, sexuality, personality, gender, oppression, escape - and cultural revolution, as she eventually becomes a messiah to the androids in her version of Fritz Lang's Metropolis.

    
 
    

The fabulous chorus zigzags back into view, Monáe ad-libbing more passionately now, effortlessly spiralling up and down her range. As she revels in her identity and radiates solidarity, the tambourine keeps a steady rolling rhythm, the instrumental twisting with verve and energy. The synth buzzes like a groovy little insect, the bass guitar absent for this verse to give focus to the words as Monáe addresses the audience directly.

As she throws down the bones, so she throws down the groove: the guitar climbs upwards and launches into the hook, all the instruments now truly in concert. A backing chorus sings the main lyrics in a simple, catchy tune, Monáe dropping in on the offbeat with ad-libs like 'queer...' and 'don't judge'. The chorus asks an unapologetic question: is it good to be different? If so, can I get a break when I'm just trying to do my thing? The resounding answer is clear in the celebration as the synths slide and shimmer in ever more alien fashion

It would take me a lot more space than I have here to go into all the references and lore from her concept albums so far, although it is fascinating: leave that to Laura Sterritt in this detailed article from 2013. I will say that she uses the figure of Cindi to explore all manner of ideas to do with love, sexuality, personality, gender, oppression, escape - and cultural revolution, as she eventually becomes a messiah to the androids in her version of Fritz Lang's Metropolis.

Lastly, Monáe asks sardonically if she is 'a sinner with my skirt on the ground'. She affirms in this interview with PrideSource that her 'gender bending' androgynous style of uniform black-and-white tuxedos (a somewhat more relaxed dress code these days) is a source of pride for her; likewise, her rejection of the skirt, a symbol of female limitation, is loaded with feminist ideals of independence and self-determination

In recent years the most vocal opponents of queer liberation have been conservative religious groups - and she challenges them here, asking yet more sarcastic questions: will they have to 'save my soul from the devil' because she likes the way another woman 'wears her tights'? Is it 'rude to wear my shades' - i.e., to be herself, even if she seems out of the ordinary? She continues, doubling down on her withering criticism of institutional repression: