NOTE: You probably don't want to actually see/hear this video.
DJ SQUID: Well, this is all rather rapey.
Hump Jones: Everything about this is disturbing. The second the acoustic guitar comes in, everything about this screams "Full Sail graduate" for all the wrong reasons. This is a flawless radio single, perfectly pitched sponsored content, an anthemic ode to catching STD's from drunk, confused young women who should almost definitely be taking a cab home.
DJ SQUID: Yeah, but nobody wants to hear that shit. This is a club hit for ladies. That beat is straight disco posing as Top 40 EDM. I could see it being a big hit, sadly.
Hump Jones: When this started, I had to pause it, get up from the kitchen table, and close all the windows in this apartment. Because I can't make eye contact with my neighbors if they think I'm rocking out to this shit on a Saturday afternoon. The only word I have for this TJ Hickey experience remains "disturbing." These girls are all clearly underage. Where is all this liquor coming from? Where are the parents these days, daug? Fuck.
DJ SQUID: This whole spectacle is astoundingly white, though. Honky Central. I feel bad for these girls who agreed to partake in this ego trip. I'm blaming this on Boston. Boston, you did this.
Hump Jones: I'm enjoying this video once the breakout star arrives: this dude's fucking haircut is straight out of David Lynch's classic sci-fi masterpiece, Dune. It dominates every frame and completely steals the show with a daring, understated performance.
DJ SQUID: Yes, I strongly believe that Lynch reference was intentional. I can't lie, either, I am definitely thinking about shooting a music video where we wear cool sunglasses and stand in profile against a piercing blue sky. That kinda shit always looks good. As long as I'm not lying, I should mention I turned the sound off on this video about 20 seconds into it.
Hump Jones: Maybe it's the drugs, but I'm starting to wonder if they're not winking at us, and maybe this whole thing is a highly conceptual horror film. This is an ode to David Lynch from the Bret Easton Ellis spawn of post-structural feminist critical theory. What they're depicting here is so vapid and terrifying, the irony must be intentional. Or this just sucks.
DJ Squid: Actually, it was more like 10 seconds.
H8RSGNNAH8
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