On Boy Crisis' "L'homme"


Boy Crisis: check that weird man-ponytail

Oh, Great Depression, if there's a silver lining to you murdering all our livelihoods, putting our friends out of work, instilling unspeakable fear in those of us who didn't follow Jesus into carpentry, it's the hope you will stop songs like Boy Crisis's "L'homme" from coming into this world. This track is everything that's wrong about the Lower East Side--it is I CAN HAS DOWNTOWN compressed into MP3, the Rivington smokers' battalion depicted in a click--pieced together by New York types who mistake weird man-ponytails for creativity. The lyrics are Babelfish doggerel masquerading as witticism: "I feel like a monster truck at the Botanical Garden." Funny, listening to this song, I feel like a Corvette at the dump.

Why should you, or I, care? Too often in this town, douchebags like this get a pass with their excruciating self-importance, privilege mistaken for character, lethargy feigned as existentialism. Beautiful 26-year-olds slum into bed with them because THAT BOY (CRISIS) IS IN A BAND! AND HE SINGS PARTLY IN FRENCH! Invite him over if you must, but make no mistake that drug-speak nonsense like, "There's a party in my brain and there's no discernible dress code" isn't clever. It's a line that likely made everyone laugh after too much cocaine, and someone decided to salvage it on the back of a taxi receipt and put it in a song, but it's terrible sober. Which probably doesn't happen often with these guys, if you believe the lame come-on of a chorus: "I'm on some drugs/You're on some drugs/Do you wanna talk to me?" Top that with the laziest, let's-maybe-fuck follow-through ever: "And if you don't, that's cool as well/I'm in the other room, if you need me." Don't say you weren't warned--a text this indifferent means there'll be no brunch.

Boy Crisis, "L'homme"


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