Fuck Cheekface. Seriously. You go about your life, scribbling, drinking PG Tips, turning your collar to the weather. You develop and drop opinions. You remember to recycle, even that weird stuff that looks and feels like it isn’t plastic, but it is a kind of plastic, and realizing this makes you a minor player in god’s own list of little heroes. You shuffle through the world, not for very long. And then you go and die. (Then it turns out there is no god and she doesn’t give a shit about recycling) Meanwhile, you’ve scheduled a week or two’s worth of coverage – and you’re committed to a mission statement of covering only the bands, and the releases that you truly love. You fill your calendar. You feel accomplished – you’re the kind of person that pays taxes and uses the right cutlery at other people’s houses. You punctuate other people’s social soliloquies with ‘Uhuh, I see that.” and you nod, even though you disagree – but you’re practicing tolerance. You return to the other errands of your day. Then fucking Cheekface drop another single – it’s called ‘Here I Was’ and it’s the best set of lyrics that Greg Katz has scribbled, and it’s the best vocal delivery the fucker has ever made. And so you’re all like ‘fuck Cheekface, I need to get back to the desk, and I’d better write something on this fucking song because this fucking song is solid’. Here’s the thing, you’re never really sure how much a ridiculous review of any song or art means to anyone. Yet, you’re compelled to write about other people’s art when you’re not busy making your own art, writing novels etc. because somehow art is the only thing worth doing, and often it’s the only thing worth talking about. So you’ve been awake all night – and there, in the morning, is fucking Cheekface blinking in the sun with the best fucking song of the week. And you want to say ‘Fuck you, Cheekface – here’s your 300 plus words that will help Google see your shit and our shit. Here’s your 300 words with no paragraphs and no shits given for grammar. Here we are, feeding the fucking algorithm machines just so the people can dance. Fuck you, Cheekface, and your fucking perfect song. Other people should try and write songs as timely as ‘Here I Was’ because it’s this kind of beauty that shows the connective tissues of the universe. It makes eye-contact with strangers almost worthwhile. Oh – and the ‘Oooo-Oooo-Oooo’s’ are inspired. Nice one.” So yeah – listen to Cheekface.
Also – yeah – fuck the man-bun guy.
HURRY – BUY – CHEEKFACE STUFF
PHOTOGRAPH BY MIRIAM BRUMMEL