An admission I can no longer deny
Much to my heavyhearted regret and chagrin, I have to admit something that pains me to no end to confess, and yet I cannot go on denying.
I enjoy the music of Lady Gaga.
Oh, I am fully aware that on the level of refined taste that position is indefensible. The music sounds as dumb as a box of rocks, as commercially hollow and shallow as any pop music currently in existence, and many years younger than me in terms of its targeted age demographic. The lyrics? No idea; I haven’t bothered to listen beyond the most token of efforts. They sure don’t sound deep.
But I’ll be damned if every time one of those goofily entertaining songs comes on the radio, I’m not finding myself caught up in the beat of its pop-dance energy. The songs are — what’s the word? — catchy.
It’s like junk food. I know it’s not good for me. But I still enjoy consuming it.
There. I said it.
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