Tag Archives: Born This Way

The Haus sans Dada, sans Laurieann, Heavy on the Nicola… #ohnico Ian, Michael, Asiel #werethedancers

The Haus: From Government Hookers not giving a Sheibe and Paris runways getting werqed twice, from Judas and Jo Calderone to Laurie Ann overthrown, please believe we always left a key under the welcome mat for Hauskeeping to keep a humble home – if not beasted and broken in the best way known

Continue reading The Haus sans Dada, sans Laurieann, Heavy on the Nicola… #ohnico Ian, Michael, Asiel #werethedancers

2. The Parisian Throne: Because Egregious is The New Black #Amen

As much the Four Evangelists as they are the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, Britney, Jay-Z, Kanye, and GaGa – our proud and prestigious pillars of Pop – stood tall and held rapturous court this year as the cause and cure for our ailing culture…

Continue reading 2. The Parisian Throne: Because Egregious is The New Black #Amen

Manhattan’s Pop Monarch Came Back After Three Betrayals To Bring Brooklyn’s Finest’s Line To Fruition

You can reproduce your past, you can rewrite your present, you can dictate your future… beneath the metronomic hum of the running film reel GaGa brings the monster from the hub of the city to the heart and soul of her own fatally fame-laden tale…

Continue reading Manhattan’s Pop Monarch Came Back After Three Betrayals To Bring Brooklyn’s Finest’s Line To Fruition

We Took The Majesty Of A Pre-Maternal New York Doll For Granted, But Lady Gaga Didn’t

“The Edge of Glory:” It’s an edge, and it’s glorious – and that’s all we need to say about that.

I love this video. When I saw this video, some less fatigued part of me wanted to run across the Brooklyn Bridge and upload footage of said jog to YouTube #literally some more juvenile, bad tomboyish part of me #justcheesin #cake GaGa’s videos are like Matcha Green Tea ice cream – good, good for you, invigorating, a little unconventional, a lil’ left of west, undeniably delicious, but digest it too fast and you’ll get a brain freeze. There’s so much all the time, and it’s all so good, but there’s just not enough time in the day, week, month, or decade to digest any of it properly; which doesn’t stop you from eating it again, and again – and only intensifies her need to dish it out again, and again – until we’ve got a roadside diner full of dead bodies. That said, I couldn’t face the iceberg this time… I’m just a kid – even this bouncing baby brain needs a break #haveyouhadyourhappymealtoday – even still, I bowed to Atlas, and anticipated said final cerebral demise when watching said glorious film.



People get so used to GaGa going HAM on their heads; that said, we have taken her core, most raw self, for granted. We forgot “Just Dance,” we overlooked her Bitter End, we lost the beautiful dirty rich one in the midst of the bad romantic – we dismissed the electric kiss… and in that we took her humanity and most basic stripped down self for granted. We became greedy for the glitz and glam and the higher and higher, we wanted that divine exalted one – always. We took the majesty of a Pre-Maternal New York Doll for granted: but she didn’t

I always want a little dirt on my shoe, I always want one more stairwell to climb, I always want to have to walk up a walk-up, you know? And not have an elevator built into my walk-up to survive. Because I think that’s when you lose focus, is when you forget. You forget how you got to the top, and once you forget how you got to the top you forget everybody that helped you, and you forget everything that inspired you, and then you wake up one morning and that inspiration and that creativity gives you a one ol’ middle finger that says “You forgot me. You denied me, and I’m the reason for you.” So I’ll fuck myself up all the way to the top, just to keep it real.

She’s not broken – she’s just a baby; and she’s born this way baby, over and over, again and again. She treats her first like her last, and her last like her first, like the first song, and the first streets where she sang.

Gorgeous pink and purple hues emanate beneath the famed fog of her early days… damp streets glisten in the pre-dawn… a stoop, a sidewalk, and a saxophone legend… turning the corner after birth… dancing on a single prayer on the precipice of prismatic, and a fire escape… from the bottom to the top… the slow ascent… until finally you reach the crest of the climax… #legout

The glorious edge… beside Clarence… on the edge of glory… posted just on the other side of the wall… on the edge of glory… halfway up the fire escape breaking out the just dance moves… on the edge of glory… Los Angelean replicas of her Manhattan roads, Californian copies of her Lower East concrete – foreign shells of her forever home… yet, still, right back to where she began… on the edge of glory – yet again

How sublimely simple. When we took this moment for granted we took away its life, here we revisit the majesty of a human institution – a universal shared experience in the flesh – and the ephiphanic miracle that is witnessing this event… the simplicity of a generation on the fringe of phenomenal, and a star forever on The Fame’s frontier

Watch This Space: The song was released on my birthday… when I didn’t need a dissertation, just direction; the video ended up giving just that – and a visionary vamp to boot #truth

Bordering On The Bizarre, Our First Listen Of Gaga’s ‘Born This Way’

We all know that Lady Gaga has a pretty wild and vivid imagination. This is quite obvious when it comes to her sense of fashion and her elaborate music videos and stage sets. It is also very prevalent in her music, as we, her adoring and yet often puzzled fans, hang on her every lyric and note. So it should come as no surprise that her new album, the heavily awaited and almost excessively promoted Born This Way, does not yield boring results in terms of being imaginative. In my opinion, it borders on the bizarre.

Continue reading Bordering On The Bizarre, Our First Listen Of Gaga’s ‘Born This Way’

In The Most Biblical Sense

In the cultural sense: GaGa smited her own spoken futuristic pretense; in the most biblical sense – her lips behave beyond repentance: a miss’ single kiss birthing culture from the crucifix – by all means, sir, take offense.

Continue reading In The Most Biblical Sense

The Monster Hit-And-Miss… And The Monster Hidden Miss…

The monster hit-and-miss… and the Monster Hidden Miss…

Aside from being an absolutely masterful piece of work – completely; Judas is an immaculate conception of the most divine du jour…

Betrayal runs through the track like bad romances through the veins of the Haus madam. There is a betrayal of comfortable pop song structure, the assault on the eardrums, the screams and distortion, the chord progression into further confusion… This song runs train on conductors… this sounds like Bad Romance’s bigger, badder, biblical older sister who just got back from Barnard – educated and disinfatuated – *that* older sister. Betrayal runs through the very being of Judas. Ju-da Ju-da-ah-ah… There’s a deep ingrained cohesion to every thread and theme of Judas. It opens with just vocals, flips to just instrumentation, then tandems to a crucifixtious climax – and that’s just the first three signatures #betrayals The verses go HAM on Sunday brunch…Thematically, from Mary Magdalene to Peter, from Judas to Jesus, channeling to GaGa – iconographies illustrating betrayals of biblical proportions… Anatomically, the inevitable unironic fist pumps betraying any sense of social decency… and yet being a product of the pre-eminent voice of a generation – the anthem of the slanderer becomes the cultural signature…


The beat is betrayal – the hit-and-miss – the battling tonalities between verse and chorus – the dominatrix versus the distressed damsel, the hammer against the mist, the pulse and the pacifier… Samson and Cyndi Lauper… but beyond the beast beat of the hit-and-miss lies the betrayed beat of the hidden miss…

Just as she could never love a man so purely, nary could many love such precisely-executed reckless abandon of modern “pop” so uncomfortably, and never has GaGa preached so defiantly:

In the most Biblical sense, I am beyond repentance. Fame hooker, prostitute wench, vomits her mind

Biblically beyond repentance… salvation transcended, she is beyond forgiveness… how could man possibly forgive such a creature… GaGa, prostitute to her own birthed FameMary Magdalene, the prostitue wench… just as Judas betrayed Jesus, so GaGa betrays her blood, and Magdalene her body… and so comes to fruition the collective fear of granting these women equality given their susceptibility to the temptation of passion… in the Biblical sense the independent woman, the free bitch, is the great social fear… vomiting her mind to the public disgust of a regurgitated cultural renaissance…

But in the cultural sense, I just speak in future tense.

Culturally speaking solely in future tense… GaGa voicing her birth rite to bare arms…

Rilke, Sir Ranier forever inked on his fair Lady’s arm… spoke highly of the futuristic female… and in so doing, seemingly blazed the trail his pariah prodigy in living poetry would follow…

The girl and the woman, in their new, their own unfolding, will but in passing be imitators of masculine ways, good and bad, and repeaters of masculine professions.

… Ju-dah – note that GaGa is not speaking as Judas, nor Christ, but rather Magdalene, or the every other woman – the every lover of the enigmatic rebel… her identity marked by the necessary burden of mocked masculinity… guilty by association, admonished for adoration… and yet, still repeatedly professing her unyielding love for Judas, baby…

When he comes to me, I am ready, I’ll wash his feet with my hair if he needs. Forgive him when his tongue lies through his brain, Even after three times, he betrays me.

As Mary Magdalene, the filthy fringe element, the social plague, the one who washed Jesus’ feet… beyond the burden of any and everything she only answers to capital HIM… as the woman whose tongue lies through her heart, where logic, reason, and rationale have no meaning or substance… accepting the burdens of original sin, like Eve, for being born with the ability the bear life again…

Women, in whom life lingers and dwells more immediately, more fruitfully and more confidently, must surely have become fundamentally riper people, more human people, than easygoing man, who is not pulled down below the surface of life by the weight of any fruit of his body, and who, presumptuous and hasty, under-values who he thinks he loves.

… and in that ability lies the inevitability of giving birth to sin… and yet therein lies the greater inevitability: that should we let the woman choose her own fate, should there be no limitations on her legal decision-making process and execution… she will choose against virtue, and when tempted with the beautifully bittersweet sorrows of passion, Judas will be the one she runs to… however… that very intuition, that very flaw and imperfection of empathy against conventional “righteousness,” is what makes the female that much more human… as she battles for the right to freely choose wrong, the knowledge and pursuit bringing her that much closer to the divine, as it was Jesus himself who sat closest with the sinners: Mary Magdalene… Simon Peter, the same apostle who denied Jesus three times en route to crucifixion, was the same one who Jesus chose to found the Church; the same Peter who as the rock, taught that just as love is like a brick – you can: build a house or sink a dead body – so, he can build a Church, after leaving Jesus three times out to sea…

This humanity of woman, borne its full time in suffering and humiliation, will come to light when she will have stripped off the conventions of mere femininity in the mutations of her outward status, and those men who do not yet feel it approaching today will be surprised and struck by it. Some day…

Some day in the future tense… she’ll bring him downbring him down, down. A king with no crownking with no crown

some day there will be girls and women whose name no longer signify merely the opposite of masculine, but something in itself, something that makes one think, not of any complement and limit, but only of life and existence: the feminine human being.

the catharsis won’t be defined by the association to the sinner or savior… the single will be an independent entity… and inevitably – she will always get the last word… Ju-dah, Ju-da-ah-ah – Ju-dah, Ga-Ga-ah

Judas kiss me if offenced – or wear an ear condom next time.

If ever GaGa had a Jesus moment… #thus: kiss me if offenced... send me to crucify; or abort the sound of the underground before it hits public consciousness… either way #wrapitup


Watch This Space: When Jesus was eating with his twelve disciples that evening, he said, “One of you will surely hand me over to my enemies… One of you men who has eaten with me from this dish will betray me.  The Son of Man will die, as the Scriptures say. Woe to that man…it would have been good for that man if he had not been born… this way, baby… ear condom #lethalsounds #biblicallyspeaking #goatgrazing

Liberation & Lambaste: Tit-For-Tat With Lady Gaga’s ‘Born This Way’ Video

I don’t know where to begin or end with this one… and I suppose that’s the best way to be – as there is no beginning or end to the perpetual renaissance that is Born This Way.

Continue reading Liberation & Lambaste: Tit-For-Tat With Lady Gaga’s ‘Born This Way’ Video

SnapTrakks: Lady GaGa – “Scheiße” (Thierry Mugler Remix)

428 days later… Lady GaGa broke her notoriously extended hiatus, premiering her first mastered piece of “new music” since 2009’s The Fame Monster. Those two years of antagonizing anticipation culminated into the club-pulsing climax: the exclusive Thierry Mugler “Scheiße” remix – in a hashtag #discodemonic, in seven words: THIS is why my paws stay pilot. While this may just be a remix, be well aware it is the Wemix 2011 anthem for monsters-turned-zombies: ignite the living dead.

Continue reading SnapTrakks: Lady GaGa – “Scheiße” (Thierry Mugler Remix)