Home » Musings » Bruno, Bieber, & his royal Badness

PianoBieber. Look, let’s not attack His Bieberness, it’s not his fault, he’s only ever known his Bieber-bubble-world (like Barbie world, but no Ken), it’s only a matter of Bieber-minutes before he has a Britney-esque-breakdown, shaves his head, exposes himself (not a metaphor), and writes a series of thrash-metal albums confirming his status as the new satanic shaman of the underworld, just a matter of Bieber time (his pal Miley’s wayyy ahead of him already). In a major contrast we have the fine fine example of his royal badness, THE Bruno of Mars. Bruno is the new Prince (both a metaphor and literal), he can do no wrong, and is only ever bursting with positivity BOOOOOMMM it’s Bruno, look at him go, look at him Bru-go, what a totes geeze he is, bursting n bustin’ with moves like OMFGFML I’ve like never known its ridic , and now he’s even going to do the half-time entertainment at the Superbowl (probably play some football too).

Prince (the artist formerly known as the artist formerly known as Prince) was at the top of his game in the eighties, 1982 to 1988 in fact, he could do no wrong, he was the baddest badasss (as in good) meanest (as in YEAHHHH) dangerousest (he wrote a song my mum banned me from listening to called ‘jack u off’, am still unsure what it’s about, as is my mum, and Jack Youuf our plumber and part-time “Uncle”), anyway, at the height of his Princeness he did both wrong and right.  He wore the coat of vibrant positivity and he went down the Britney-esque (well, more Mariah than Britney really) path of lunacy….

In 1987 Princey gave his purple-followers the ‘Black album’ it was bad (and when I mean bad, I mean good), it was dirty (I mean dirty, it put ‘Jack u off’ in a corner, in a gimp suit), it was illegal (it was a bootleg, so technically by even owning it you were breaking the law (sorry mum)), it came from a negative place and was filled with f*ck this, mofo’ing that, and stick this into your that, you get the picture (I had by then learnt by then to disguise risky choons from my mum, I put the record in a sleeve of my sister’s Cliff Richard album).

Anyway, err, ah yes. Prince knew he did wrong, it was the best album ever EVER sure, it really is so so woooooahhhhh-easy-there-mate, but old Princey had danced with the devil in the pale of moonlight, he’d salsa’d with satan in the sunshine spectrum, and thus, well he had to right the negativity. Right away he got to work and in 17 days (17 long nights) his purpleness produced Lovesexy (1988), it was the antidote to the black-album, in truth it was the white album (but the name was already taken), it was beautiful, perfect, a celebration of love (and sexy), it was in a word positive (and it had a picture of him totally effing naked on the cover hahahahhahah what a total ledge, Bruno I hope you’re listening mate).

Whenever I need a boost, a positive injection, I listen to Lovesexy still, I still funk around the room to it, it is incredible, it works, it’s a no-bieber, I mean, no-brainer. I reckon it’s only a matter of Mars-minutes before Bruno brings out his own positivity album.


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