Pablow the Blowfish

Well, well, well, we never thought that this day would come, did we? Miley Cyrus is supposed to be everything that’s wrong with pop music today. You know the type: constantly half-naked celebrity offspring with problematic delusions of hipness and not much musical talent. And yeah, little Miley is naked more often than not, she has some pretty serious cultural appropriation issues, and her music has been mostly garbage. Who’d have thunk that she’d redeem herself? But then she started hanging out with Flaming Lips, and if Wayne Coyne thinks she’s cool beans, she must have something going on. Miley Cyrus & Her Dead Petz is the weird mashup that should, by all rights, have been an abomination in the eyes of God – but isn’t. It’s like a Flaming Lips album, but not, basically. It’s like a musical Instagram feed; a disjointed series of glimpses into the disjointed mind of a 23 year old who likes to party, struggles with relationships, loves her pets and writes in her dream journal every day. And, as with social media, not every moment is necessarily publication worthy by traditional standards, but it’s honest and intensely felt. It turns out that Miley Cyrus is a musical artist with her own aesthetic and things to say, apparently. That’s a pretty surprising turn of events for a pop star who came fully groomed and chipmunk-cheeked off of the Walt Disney assembly line. Who knows if this is a fluke or if Miley is going to grow into an accomplished artist someday, but at the very least, and for better or for worse, she’s a very modern girl.


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