we have matching sweatsuits
and he’s an amazing “Papa” to the children.
The main thing, however, that has always kept our bond strong, is our mutual hatred of The Chainsmokers.
I can’t speak for him (and his actual musical rationale,) so I will only address my (petty and annoyed) concerns. First, their name. Chainsmokers? The only connotations that come to mind are of deadly disease or brooding poets, the second possibly more abhorrent than the first.
And then the “song” that Spotify had the balls to toss into my face, Who Do You Love.
The fifth word of the song is “Fendi.” Two lines later is “always changing your access codes” with like “codes” sung with a weird yodel/R&B/the singer might actually be crying inflection. At this point I had to look up the singer’s age because I had to know if he was a young idiot, an older idiot pretending to be young (This is why it didn’t work between us, Blink 182) or an older idiot who is just actually an idiot.
Thirty-five. The answer is 35 years old. Also, I learned that these fellows are DJs. Here I thought they were pop-rock-country folk, like if Ed Sheehan were older and less talented.
One minute into the song he’s signing “Whoooooooo do you love?” while my brain fills with owls when possibly the worst little electronic interlude I’ve ever heard plays. Like, every single thing about it is offensive. Luckily, it only lasts a few seconds before we return to accoustic soft rock and horrendous lyrics that make me sad for the singer and sadder for the people who are eager to fuck him.
After another few shifts into and out of EDM for babies, the song trails off into a repetition of what sounds like “woopy woopy woo woo.” The listener is left feeling like an abandoned toy boat on its way to a waterfall.
But, Chainsmokers, you brought Amir into our lives and for that we are eternally grateful.
Just kidding, you didn’t actually have anything to do with it. Happy Father’s Day, Amir.
Comments are closed.