The Scissor Sisters have no problem finding their audience, regardless of how utterly campy they are. Even the album cover of Night Work sets a new precedent for just how much the members of Scissor Sisters don’t give a fuck about decorum or “taste.” Exhibiting a clenched ass with pants tighter than anything Jim Morrison ever wore, Night Work’s cover art is a good indication of the album’s bawdiness.

To quote The Pet Shop Boys, "You're so flamboyant."

Released on June 28th (forgive me father, for I have sinned for not reviewing it earlier), Night Work explores the usual Scissor Sisters themes: Troubled youth, getting dressed in drag queen-like garb to go out, and sex (whether paid for or not). The quality that makes this particular endeavor stand out from The Scissor Sisters’ previous two albums is that Stuart Price was at the helm as producer. You may know his work from a fantastic record called Confessions on a Dance Floor or maybe you know him as Les Rythmes Digitales. And if you don’t, you probably don’t listen to The Scissor Sisters anyway.

Frontpeople Ana Matronic and Jake Shears

Price’s distinctive production style blends well with The Scissor Sisters’ glam rock/electronic sound. The marriage of these two tours de force (yes, that’s the plural of tour de force, like cul de sac is culs de sac) of gay electronic dance music will make you want to burst with sheer elation on the last track of the album, “Invisible Light.” The up and down bassline of “Any Which Way” is also classically Les Rythmes Digitales, as featured on most every track of the 1999 album, Dark Dancer.

From left to right: Randy Real, Babydaddy, Del Marquis, Jake Shears, and Ana Matronic

Night Work, though similar in many ways to The Scissor Sisters’ debut and sophomore albums, is a departure in the sense that it is purely an homage to just having fun, whereas their prior albums always had at least one “message” song on it (i.e. “It Can’t Come Quickly Enough,” a surprisingly non-sexual song from their first album, and the somewhat cheesy songs “Land of a Thousand Words” and “Everybody Wants the Same Thing” on Ta-Dah! The new album’s title alone, Night Work, winkingly suggests fun with its allusion to prostitution.

The oh so glam rock pair of scissors on every Scissor Sisters album

So, to the confused, the transsexual, the homosexual, the heterosexual, and even the asexual, Night Work guarantees everyone to have a good time on the dance floor. Courtesy of Stuart Price.

Like its simplistic album title, /\/\ /\ Y /\, heretofore to be referred to as Maya (because it takes a lot of fucking effort to type out the hieroglyphic emblem), opens with the equally simplistic, fifty-seven second “The Message.” Though I usually hate it when artists use intros to start their album since it’s generally just a way to make it look like there are more tracks than there really are, it actually works as a nice transition to track 2 on the record (yes, I say record. Fuck you, digitalism), called “Steppin Up.” This finds us in the familiar electro sound MIA promoted on her debut, Arular. Following that is the second single from the album, “XXXO,” recently remixed by Jay-Z to ensure success.

MIA doesn't just make prophetic music, she wears prophetic t-shirts too

Some listeners have had mixed feelings about the deliberate and generic pop sound of “XXXO,” but doubts about MIA’s musical fearlessness are immediately assuaged by the futuristic beats of “Teqkilla,” a song that sounds like something you might hear if there were jungles in space (and who’s to say there aren’t, really?). After “Teqkilla,” “Story to Be Told” takes us to another far off place, beginning with the jets of a plane taking off and MIA’s voice ethereally echoing, “All I ever wanted was my story to be told.” It is easily one of the best cuts off the album.

Sri Lanka, bitches!

“It Takes a Muscle” changes the entire tone of the album midway through, altering the mood to the tranquil ambience of relaxing on a beach (preferably one in southern Italy). “It Iz What It Iz” continues this sound with a somewhat 80s backing track for the music. However, while musically enjoyable, it gets kind of old to just hear her repeat “It iz what it iz/This is how I feel” without realizing that there’s more to a song than just a chorus.

MIA's album cover: A tongue in cheek homage to YouTube and the 21st century

Next is another single from the album, “Born Free,” already well-known for the video being briefly removed from YouTube due to some graphically violent imagery (but really, is there anything the American public hasn’t seen already?). This is the track that truly ignited the fever for MIA’s album release, a thesis for what was to come–not just musically, but also in terms of MIA’s extremely vocal opinions about life in the twenty-first century, including the assertion that Google and Facebook are implements of the CIA (um, totally agreed).

Portrait of a Lady

“Meds and Feds” is probably the only song with a rock vibe out of all the tracks, contrasted by the succeeding song, “Tell Me Why,” making use of MIA’s actual singing talent as opposed to her knack for harsh shouting. Maya concludes with the airy and tenuous modulations of “Space,” a perfect disunion from how the album began. Because MIA is all about confusing and discombobulating the expected order.

After every single song on Uffie’s MySpace has been run into the ground, it seems well-timed that Sex Dreams and Denim Jeans should showcase a handful of new tracks, though a considerable percentage of that previously unreleased material falls into the run into the ground MySpace category I just mentioned (“Pop the Glock,” “First Love,” and “MCs Can Kiss” are all present and accounted for). So, after getting married, divorced, and having a somewhat unplanned pregnancy, Uffie was at last ready to contemplate creating a few new songs for her album debut.

"Bad ass bitch, I'm rated X."

It’s indicative of some kind of star quality that Uffie has been riding on the success of the same six songs since she began her recording career in 2005. Basically, “Pop the Glock,” “First Love,” “MCs Can Kiss,” “Dismissed,” and “Robot Oeuf” (from the Los Abrazos Rotos Soundtrack, proving Pedro Almodovar’s artistic dexterity with choosing amazing songs to take drugs to) have allowed her to parlay her way into a full-length album while still finding ample time to enjoy Parisian nightlife.

"All you've got is your mom bringing you fuckin' cookies at your computer."

Uffie isn’t shy or apologetic about admitting to a certain amount of laziness when it comes to her musical devotion, highlighted on track 2 of Sex Dreams and Denim Jeans, “Art of Uff,” in which she airily comments, “Me and my stupid flow, me and my MySpace with only three tracks a year and they still talk about me.” Her associations with Feadz, Justice, Pharrell Williams, and Ed Banger Records have also had a small part in elevating her success.

Ready to Uff

Frequently compared to Ke$ha (and that’s the last time I’m spelling her name that way, who the fuck does she think she is to believe people should have to use a dollar sign as an S every goddamn time she’s mentioned in print?), Uffie takes the crown for singing about youthful indiscretions. You ain’t never gonna hear Kesha sing lyrics like, “I’m like this cold ass bitch and I ain’t ready to suck” or “I’m a damn crazy brat and I don’t give a fuck, I’ve got my man, my sound blasted, and I’m ready to fuck.” Granted, these songs, “Hot Chick” and “Ready to Uff,” are taken from her earlier dalliances and do not appear on Sex Dreams and Denim Jeans, traces of the fiercely defiant “musical youth who rules the nation” are present on “ADD SUV” and “Give It Away.” Still, Uffie appears far tamer than before. But even with a tinge of domesticity, Uffie is too lewd to make it on Top 40 radio anytime soon. And that’s usually the mark of a good artist.

Marina Diamandis came to prominence after coming in a strong second on the BBC Sound of 2010 poll list, on the strength of a number of singles released throughout 2009. Considering the company she kept on the list – incredibly derivative and inane acts like Delphic, Hurts, and the Drums, with Ellie Goulding topping it – it’s really not that impressive an accomplishment. Regardless,  Diamandis, using the name Marina and the Diamonds, had a strong base for a debut album with her highly catchy and cleverly written singles. And for the most part, The Family Jewels (her full-length debut) does succeed, brandishing a unique brand of electro-pop that immediately stands out against her cookie-cutter contemporaries, but Diamandis simply seems to be trying too hard in places,  particularly with her vocal delivery and lyrics, and it weighs the album down significantly.

Re-troooooooo wheee

Firstly, it should be noted that Diamandis is an unexpectedly sharp songwriter. The first three songs start things off splendidly – opener Are You Satisfied? brings broad instrumentation together for a highly danceable sound. Shampain, which just might be the best song on the album, is an absurdly fun track, with great synths, excellent vocal melodies, and a chorus that sounds like ABBA interpreted as new wave. I Am Not a Robot, one of her early singles, is where the comparisons to Kate Bush and Florence and the Machine make the most sense – the track adopts an almost folkish sound, and she sings gingerly over a sparse arrangement of a piano and violin that gradually grows throughout. For the most part, the music remains highly inventive all across The Family Jewels, for example making great use of eastern strings and glockenspiel on Hermit the Frog, incorporating piano into Oh No!‘s throbbing dance beat, or the brooding, almost dubstep-sounding closer Guilty. While the melodies aren’t quite evenly distributed, the songs with strong hooks are very catchy, with songs like the aforementioned Shampain and Mowgli’s Road, which are insanely addictive.

Though the music is as accomplished as it is, much of the album’s unevenness comes from Diamandis’ differing lyrical approach. There are points where she sounds fairly genuine, such as Mowgli‘s chorus of “I don’t know who I want to be,” (which is amusingly contradicted to the word in Oh No!, incidentally) but it feels pushed too far and comes across as melodramatic when she’s singing lines like “it’s my problem if I have no friends and feel I want to die” on Satisfied. Then, there are times when she takes a turn for the snotty and obnoxious, a la Ke$ha (or better yet, Uffie), like with Hollywood‘s gratingly asinine “Oh my gwad, you look just like Shakira, no no, you’re Catherine Zeta, ACKshully my name’s Marina,” or pretty much the whole of Girls. Hollywood also comes across as trying to convey a sort of message about misplaced values in America and society in general (along with “If you are not very careful, your possessions will possess you, TV taught me how to feel, now real life has no appeal” from Oh No!), which honestly come out sounding completely laughable. The songs work best when Diamandis doesn’t feel like she’s trying in earnest to be something, to embrace some empty attitude, but unfortunately these moments are few and far between.

Oh wow, just... wow.

Marina and the Diamonds’ debut is a very fun, and at times highly refreshing slice of pop. But while it’s entirely possible to play the wounded songstress, the cocky and ambitious maneater, and the messenger of irony all on the same album, Diamandis tries too hard to achieve each of these, and handles them clumsily with awkward, forced delivery and trite lyrics better suited for simpler, more pop friendly topics. Despite this, she is a tremendously talented songwriter, showing far more creativity than most other pop starlets around today. Plus, even the irritating songs can grow on you. After listening to The Family Jewels long enough, you can find yourself happily singing along to some pretty stupid shit – which I suppose is one of the hallmarks of a good pop record.

Chew Lips may sound like a simple Little Boots or (especially) La Roux clone, but the London based trio actually formed in early 2008, roughly around the same time that their respective current musical projects came into fruition. After playing several shows and garnering support from numerous area DJs, the band was signed to the French independent label Kitsuné Music, home to like-minded electronic pop acts like the earlier mentioned La Roux and Yelle. Chew Lips is a bit easy to lump in with their contemporaries, as they have the same reliance on bright poppy synth melodies, and vocalist Tigs does not sound terribly different from other singers of the same style. However, multi-instrumentalists Will Sanderson and James Watkins give Chew Lips a somewhat minimalist and slightly dark sound, and while it doesn’t always surface as prominently as it could, it’s definitely a step towards standing out.

The early Blue Man Group was a porn troupe with a woman

Unicorn gets off to a somewhat weak start with Eight. The synth melodies are basic and boring, and the generic pop chorus beginning of “a high speed chase on your wedding day” is incredibly uninspired. The only part of the opening track that is really indicative of how the rest of the album sounds is the effect-blotched break about two minutes in, an interesting but all-too brief section that hints at some of the intricacies later to come. In particular is the immediately following Play Together, which is leagues away from Eight, and an outstanding choice for lead single. It opens with threadbare bleeps and light percussion, but quickly switches into the verse’s fuzzy synth and the extremely catchy, almost Kraftwerk-esque chorus. Toro is another example of a great, catchy tune, driven by a funkish bass, dance-punk beat, and a fun sing-a-long (“it’s yoooooouuuuuu, it’s yoooooooouuuuu”) chorus, although the pre-chorus does go on a bit longer than it really needs to.

Slick finds Tigs sounding oddly like Karen O and the band toying with synths both bright and dirty along with a clean piano and a lot of progressing echoed harmonizing, which seems to rely a bit too much on a scant few melodies over nearly five minutes, but the layering is extremely well done and keeps the song interesting. This is also used to great effect in the beautiful Gold Key, a slow burner that progresses masterfully and has perhaps Tigs’ best vocal on the whole album. Unfortunately the songwriting itself isn’t quite always this sharp. Without the random effects tossed onto Karen, it sounds like a decent but generic alternative song, while Too Much Talking sounds more concerned with being lush than memorable. Two Hands is somewhat uneven as well, with a great chorus but little else to keep the song going (though the short length does help).

I can't believe we all got rejected as after models for the same shampoo

Unicorn isn’t a flooring debut, or even a particularly exciting one, but to say that there’s nothing here would be unfair. The darker tone is definitely something that would be interesting to see explored, as well as the capable instrumentation and toying with electronic effects. The hooks are very hit or miss, however, and without more work on their melodies, they’re going to continue being uneven no matter how much they deviate from their starting point. Chew Lips’ sound isn’t quite developed yet, and while they have a few components unique to them, for the time being they’re just another electro-pop group with a few good songs.

I’ll come right to the point: Kate Nash’s follow-up to her debut album, called My Best Friend Is You, is not even close to comparing with that first collection of songs on what was maybe an album filled with beginner’s luck, Made of Bricks. The main problem lies in Nash’s struggle to sound like she has “grown” as an artist, while still clinging to the streetwise bitch that appeared on Made of Bricks.

Umbrellas: A staple of Britishism

A case in point of this musical split personality is track five of M.B.F.I.Y., “Take Me To A Higher Plane,” which sees Nash try to imitate the screaming vocals of “Mariella,” one of the best songs on Made of Bricks.

Cover of My Best Friend Is You

“Do-Wah-Doo,” the first single from the M.B.F.I.Y, is its strongest in terms of radio friendliness, but it should be interesting to see what Nash chooses as her second single, since there really isn’t another song quite as good. “Paris” maybe, but that is the only real contender for “Do-Wah-Doo.” Moreover, “Kiss That Grrl” would be a bit too gimmicky to select as the successor single because it has a 60s sound as well.

60s chic for the "Do-Wah-Doo" video

Another ill-advised maneuver is Kate Nash reading from her slam book (okay, I’m totally making that up, but that’s really what it sounds like). Called “Mansion Song,” it begins with a one minute, thirty-five second rant about a certain kind of woman that wants to be “fucked and then rolled over” and then segues into a brief little ditty, probably the biggest waste of space on the album. I’m afraid only John Lennon can get away with “talking songs” that digress into nonsense.

"I want to be fucked and then rolled over 'cause I'm an independent woman of the twenty-first century"

From there, it gets a little better, with “Early Christmas Present,” “Later On,” and “Pickpocket” all coalescing into one endless song, being that they all sound very similar and generic. Nash then breaks up the troika of fast-paced songs with the folksy slow jam “You Were So Far Away.”

Go back to the start: Made of Bricks, the album that is impossible for My Best Friend Is You to outshine

“I Hate Seagulls,” a vague sequel to “Birds,” is the second to last song, continuing the pattern of downtrodden songs (“I hate rude, ignorant bastards and I hate snobbery”). It also feels the pretentious need to have an approximately two and a half minute pause before another hidden track on the song starts to play. The hidden track portion, “My Best Friend Is You,” is, incidentally, better than the song that calls itself “I Hate Seagulls.”

Cribs frontman with his less talented girlfriend Kate Nash

“R n B Side,” the concluding track, is, needless to say, not even close to being good enough to compensate for the thirteen GarageBand level songs that precede it. Appropriately, for this review, the lyrics of “R n B Side” are “Why do you have to be such a wanker?” Sorry, I call it like I see it. Nash should really just stick to being Ryan Jarman’s (of The Cribs) arm candy because it doesn’t seem like any of his talent is rubbing off on her.

Goldfrapp has zigzagged in their musical stylings over the years, from the ethereal Felt Mountain to the dance experiments of Black Cherry to the all out synthpop sound of Supernature to the slow rhythms of Seventh Tree and now to Head First, an album more in keeping with the tone of Supernature, which truly is the sound they work best with. And even if the modulations of this album are emulations of bands that have done it better (Human League, Soft Cell, Yaz, et. al.), it is worth noting in a genre that once seemed to be waning that Goldfrapp has successfully resuscitated the true blue sound of the eighties.

The album cover for Head First, relevantly only featuring Alison Goldfrapp's head in the clouds

Proof of that ode to the Reagan era is the first track that launches the album, “Rocket,” borrowing heavily from the sounds of Van Halen’s “Jump.” The lyrics of “Rocket” also set the stage for the simplicity of the album’s prose in favor of emphasizing Will Gregory’s sonorous poetry. “Believer” follows, with Alison Goldfrapp’s distinctively melodic voice echoing the pitch of Donna Summer’s exclamations of ecstasy on “I Feel Love.” The third track, “Alive,” is the most modern, maybe even something Kesha could pull off, with lines like, “I woke up with the rising sun I was blinded by the light/Jump up and pull on my jeans, it feels good there, a little tight.”

Rocket

After “Alive” the album veers right back to its early eighties vibe with “Dreaming,” appropriately titled considering the gossamer beats throughout. The title track, “Head First,” is a flagrant derivation of OMD’s “(Forever) Live and Die,” but actually includes some of the album’s more memorable lyrics: “I’m waiting/Longing for you/One more night and then I’m gone/I am your visitor/I’m on the other side of your world.”

The danceability of the Black Cherry album was a precursor to Supernature, and finally, Head First

“Hunt” is the moodiest track on Head First, a song that could easily fit in with the offerings on Goldfrapp’s last album, Seventh Tree. Picking up the pace after “Hunt” is “Shiny and Warm,” in which Goldfrapp finally steals from itself by imitating track 9 on Supernature, “Satin Chic.”

The danceability of the Black Cherry album was a precursor to Supernature, and finally, Head First

“I Wanna Life,” the second to last track is somewhat unique from the others in that it sounds more like early 90s dance (think “Rhythm is a Dancer” by Snap!) than all-out synthpop. By track 9, “Voicething,” our short-lived journey with Goldfrapp is already over. Faster than the speed of a time machine to 1984, we are taken to and from the decade of cocaine and back to the present (the decade of meth and anything else that will get you to the point of oblivion). Such a feat is the mark of an album worth getting.

Lifehouse released their fifth studio album, titled “Smoke & Mirrors,” on March 2.  It is a predictable twelve-song collection sending the listener through a sullen tale of a love once cherished, but now quickly fading… or “Halfway Gone,” the first release to this album.   

 Since releasing their first song, “Hanging by a Moment” in 2001, the two remaining original band members, lead singer/guitarist Jason Wade and drummer Rick Woolstenhulme Jr., have successfully remained afloat via movie and television soundtracks but have yet to reach the level of their first album, “No Name Face.”

Lifehouse Smoke & Mirrors

 Experimenting with a more raw and live sound yet staying with the commercial catchy rock ballads that keep them thriving, Lifehouse has sprinkled “Smoke & Mirrors” with tracks that radio stations and fans will surely cling to.  And although this album has not dramatically sent them to a different level or sound, it is clear that 10 years later, a more mature band has ascended.

 The powerful opener “All In” – a perfect foreshadowing for most of the songs that follow – instantly triggered memories of “Hanging by a Moment,” which includes lyrics “nothing left to lose, nothing left to hide.”  “All In” says, “all in, nothing left to hide I’m falling harder than a landslide.”   This same theme lingers throughout their past and this album. 

Track two, “By Your Side,” is mysterious, with a taste of Silverchair and a Johnny Lang bluesy instrumental bridge; unique for Lifehouse, exciting for me.  In true Lifehouse fashion, “Falling In,” “From Where You Are,” “In Your Skin” and “It Is What It Is” are all very similar to one another, with an upbeat depiction of love going wrong.

 “Had Enough” (featuring Chris Daughtry) and “Halfway Gone” are slower songs with ripping choruses about missing and denying what will never be.  The title track, “Smoke & Mirrors,” is more or less like the others… of a relationship fading away, despite the fact that they remain the same.

Lifehouse

 “Nerve Damage” stands out from the rest (albeit negatively) because, unfortunately, I’m reminded of Britney Spears with its electronic beats and strange effects.  It’s about giving power back to men that don’t want to be played by women game players.  Sorry, not working. 

Listening to this album sent me through a pop rock journey of today, and with the exception of “Nerve Damage,” it is quite easy to listen to, as it is cohesive, clean and for the band, a little edgy.  Sounds of Nickelback, One Republic and The Frey are heard throughout. But for someone without a keen liking to this band, I did feel like I was hanging by the moment, swinging back and forth, searching and waiting for something different and challenging.  It felt like the love they kept crying about – halfway gone, but still too fresh to be given up on.  Lifehouse has yet to hook me completely, but through this new album, I do see a progression into a more mature band.  Until they start singing about new subject matters, however, I’m not sure I can jump on it.

Damon Albarn can devote himself to Gorillaz all he wants, but he will always be, above all, the frontman of Blur, the pioneer of Britpop, and the inciter of music envy amongst his peers (read: Gallagher brothers). When Blur reunited for that brief and glorious summer back in 2009, there was concern from critics and fans alike over whether or not Blur could ever really be what it was before and if the assemblage of this Colchester quartet was merely an exiguously put together media ploy to distract from the fact that everyone in the band except Damon could probably use an extra pence or two.

They were twentieth century boys

With the release of No Distance Left to Run in mid-February, a two-disc chronicle of their ephemeral reunion, Blur may both be delighting and disappointing fans because, while it is a chance to see the most candid portrait of the band since Starshaped (documenting the grueling touring schedule that took place from 1991 to 1994 in promotion of the albums Leisure and Modern Life is Rubbish), it is also a fairly overt indication that there is little hope of any further collaborations. Another augury of the band’s definitive culmination was the release of Midlife: A Beginner’s Guide to Blur in the posthaste of their 2009 concert frenzy.

They need something to remind them that there's something else

The documentary itself (a far too short ninety-eight minutes) is more riveting than the concert performance footage, which includes all of their hits, even “Country House” (probably to Graham’s chagrin), and captures a certain amount of the same roguish wit and charm preexisting Blur’s post-Parklife phase. Wasting no time in capitalizing on their fans’ Britpop nostalgia, Blur opened their July 2 show in Hyde Park with their first single “She’s So High” (a song that’s worth getting married for, just so you can have it played at your wedding). From there, Modern Life is Rubbish and Parklife seem to be the favored albums, with six songs (“Oily Water,” “Chemical World,” “Sunday Sunday,” “Popscene,” “Advert,” and “For Tomorrow”) performed from the 1993 shifter of music paradigms and eight songs (“Girls & Boys,” “Tracy Jacks,” “Jubilee,” “Badhead,” “Parklife,” “To The End,” “End of a Century,” and “This is a Low”) performed from the 1994 offering that yielded the battle of the Britpop bands.

You've turned us all old and wizened

The closing song of the show, 1995′s “The Universal,” is rather appropriate considering the lyrics to the chorus: “It really, really, really could happen.” Britain’s continued admiration for Blur and the rejoining of the band for a momentary occasion fits in nicely with that line, since no one ever thought that it could happen after all the differences and the squabbles. And they didn’t totally dash our hopes for another limited engagement by ending the concert with “Death of a Party.” So maybe the film’s title No Distance Left to Run is more misleading than meets the eye. Because the band clearly still shares a strong affinity and exudes just as much magnetism as before.

Some people still remember the much beloved number one single from 1963 by sugary sweet teen soloist-cum-lesbian Lesley Gore. Thinking about how classic the song is considered, I wondered if it would fare as well in the music market of 2002, or would it have to be altered to accommodate more modern, and well, more crude tastes? Why 2002? It’s such an arbitrary year–but it’s not. That’s the year I pinpoint the true death of decent mainstream music. If my pop to rap conversion sensibilities are correct, the lyrics would be transformed from this:

It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to/Cry if I want to/Cry if I want to/You would cry too if it happened to you/Nobody knows where my Johnny has gone/Judy left the same time/Why was he holding her hand?/When he’s supposed to be mine/It’s my party, and I’ll cry if I want to/Cry if I want to, cry if I want to/You would cry too if it happened to you/Playin’ my records, keep dancin’ all night/Leave me alone for a while/’Till Johnny’s dancin’ with me/I’ve got no reason to smile/It’s my party, and I’ll cry if I want to/Cry if I want to, cry if I want to/You would cry too if it happened to you/Judy and Johnny just walked through the door/Like a queen with her king/Oh what a birthday surprise/Judy’s wearin’ his ring/It’s my party, and I’ll cry if I want to/Cry if I want to, cry if I want to/You would cry too if it happened to you.

…to the far more lewd and inappropriate rap version:

It’s my motherfuckin party and I’ll motherfuckin cry if I goddamn want to you stupid bitches/Cry if I fuckin want to/Cry if I fuckin want to/You twat, you would cry too if it fuckin happened to you/Nobody knows where that asshole Johnny has gone/That slut Judy left at the same time/Why was he holding her fuckin fake tanned hand?/When that horny felch loving bastard is supposed to be mine?/It’s my motherfuckin party and I’ll motherfuckin cry if I goddamn want to you stupid bitches/Cry if I fuckin want to/Cry if I fuckin want to/You twat, you would cry too if it fuckin happened to you/Playin’ the shit songs on my iPod, keep scorchin the motherfuckin dancefloor/Leave me the fuck alone for awhile/’Til that diseased dick of Johnny’s is inside of me/I’ve got no goddamn reason to smile/It’s my motherfuckin party and I’ll motherfuckin cry if I goddamn want to you stupid bitches/Cry if I fucking want to/Cry if I fucking want to/You twat, you would cry too if it fucking happened to you/Judy and Johnny just walked through the motherfuckin door/Like a queen bitch and her impotent king/Oh what a fuckin birthday surprise/Judy’s given him a cock ring/It’s my motherfuckin party and I’ll motherfuckin cry if I goddamn want to you stupid bitches/Cry if I fuckin want to/Cry if I fuckin want to/You twat, you would cry too if it fuckin happened to you.

If Lesley Gore’s not too busy, she should remake the song as a statement on how censorship in the sixties wasn’t necessarily an impediment, more like a forced mechanism for creatively wholesome lyricism.