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It's Too Late ...



13-05-2024 20:44 GMT

Music Reviews (May 2024) - Discover the best emerging, underground & upcoming R&B artists, bands & labels with reviews of the latest songs, albums & mixtapes, music videos, music playlists, live events/gigs, concerts/tours, & other entertainment from your favorite indie R&B performers & entertainers daily on SRL Music Reviews.
Music by indie artist, Crystal Starr on YouTube | Spotify

Crystal Starr

"Too Late"

Good pop

As usual, before we get started with the music review of today, I’ve got some things I need to get off my chest. And yes, they’re real. Thanks for noticing; eyes up here please. Thank you. 

It's me, “Lady Jesus” by the way; in case you were wondering. I recently changed my pen name from “The Jesus Lady”. “Lady Jesus” sounds so much more exciting. But don’t let the name confuse you, I’m not very Jesus-ey at all. In fact, just this morning on my way to work, I didn’t feel like paying for gas like all the other suckers in line. So just before I was about to pay I dropped my keys on the floor and bent over to pick them up the way only a total slut would, looked back at it sensually and then had a little nip slip on purpose while I was getting back up. By the time I was done putting my boobies back in my top, two guys I recognised from the office building next door to mine were fighting each other to pay my bill. I let them fight and left.

When I got into the office there was a note from one of my colleagues on my desk. His name is “The Imagination Guy”, you might have heard of him. He’s the most annoying guy in the world, I promise you. If you think you’ve ever met the most annoying person in the world, multiply that by 1,000 and they still wouldn’t be nearly as annoying as this guy.  

The first time I knew he was a total douche bag, he was in a meeting with me and he kept on rushing through the whole thing and saying he had to go somewhere. Finally, we were done and I started to exit his office. As I left, I apologised for taking up so much of his time and delaying him; but I noticed he wasn’t getting up, or going anywhere. He was just watching me back away towards the door, and I could sense he was also waiting for me to turn around so he could get a glimpse of my, you know, my tushy. He was - I saw him through the reflection in the glass door as soon as I turned around. He even made that mouth and face that creepy guys make (like he had just eaten something spicy). But I noticed he still wasn’t getting up. I closed the door and waited outside his office for 10 good minutes. I even peeped a few times to see what he was doing. He hadn’t moved. I was totally steamed. I couldn’t believe I had wasted 10 minutes on that douche. As I walked away, my mind just couldn’t let it go. I started to go back angrily to confront him about it and give him a piece of my mind, then I got the idea to call his office line to see what he'd say. So I did. To my amazement he picked 
up the phone, and what he said completely blew a gasket inside me. He said, “I’m not in the office right now, I had to go somewhere quickly. I’ll be back in like 30 minutes”. 

The second time I realized how much of a douche bag “The Imagination Guy” really was, he was rushing out of the elevator at The Shard and I was going in. He was in hurry. He said “Hey, how’s everything going? Don’t care, can’t talk, I’ve gotta be somewhere, see you later Perky”. I was so angry he called me Perky that I tried to leave the elevator to go and smack him; and I bumped my head really hard into the closing door. I had a quick glass of wine for lunch and went straight back to the office because I had so much to do. I had forgotten all about it – that’s what happens when I drink wine, that’s why I do it in fact. Everyone was still at lunch when I got back, so everywhere was really quiet. But as I walked past “The Imagination Guy’s” office, I noticed his light was on and he was in there, despite the fact that just a few minutes ago he said he was rushing somewhere. Again, he was just sitting. He wasn’t moving or doing anything important, just sitting there. I decided to leave him alone because I was really tipsy. All I wanted to do was put my hand bag away, grab a cigarette and smoke it like I had just had sex; then get back to work. 

The third time I verified "The Imagination Guy" was way past douche status was this afternoon. We had an actual fight and I hurt him really bad. He deserved it, I promise. Let me explain. He'd left a voice message on my phone asking me to meet him to discuss some important things first thing after lunch. There were deadlines to be met and I also had things to do, so I rushed back from lunch earlier than normal in order to have plenty of time. I dropped my handbag in my office and rushed over to his. Bear in mind that at the time I received his message I was on my second glass of wine and I was totally gagging for a fag (that's a cigarette in the UK, just to be clear). I got to his door, but as I was about to knock I noticed the light was off and there was a note on the door. The note said: “Be right back. See receptionist if urgent”. As I walked away in a haste to take care of all the other important things I had to do, a little reflection from inside the dark office caught my attention and I took a quick glance backwards as I walked away, thinking nothing of it. But something told me to look again. So I walked back and looked closer at “The Imagination Guy’s” desk. I kid you not, he was right there – sitting in the dark. The reflection I saw was a glare from his glasses. I was furious. By this time I had already had it with him. He had already pushed me to boiling point and I wasn’t in control of my anger anymore. I kicked off my high heels like Patti LaBelle and charged towards the door. I was about to kick it in but, it’s a glass door – it would've shattered and hurt me really bad – not like in the movies. That made me even more furious. I had to restrain myself, turn the handle and push it open really angrily but in a controlled way. I felt silly walking back to get my shoes first, and I didn’t want the anger to wear off; so I walked in with bare feet. I was furious and steaming. I said angrily: “WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU MAN?” He replied - aloof: “You walk into my office bare feet with the lights off, breasts hanging out and skirt riding up; smelling like Sauvignon Blanc, baby powder and whisky at 2 PM on a Monday. And you're asking what's wrong with me? What the f*ck is wrong with you? You're not some sort of weird, freaky, alcoholic sex maniac are you? 'Cos I'd totally dig that. Better close the door quickly before somebody sees. And come over here and sit on my laps; I know what you need. ”

I looked at the metal folding chair opposite his desk, and I knew I only had to fold it and whack him over the head with it a few times to wipe that smirk off his stupid face. But again, I reminded myself that this wasn’t a movie – I would break ALL my nails, my boobies would pop out of my very low cut top (and I have a strict no bra policy on Mondays). I would lose my job, possibly get sued, and all types of things could happen. So I sat on the chair instead and gathered my composure. I was still bare feet so I felt really silly at this point.

He leaned over his desk with crossed arms and a really stern look on his face, and said to me in a really sinister voice (the lights were still off): “You know you could have hurt me really bad with that folding chair. The doctors said if it was even half an inch to the left I might have needed surgery”. By this time we were locked in eye to eye and I couldn’t tell whether it was the wine but I was getting a little sleepy and my head was spinning slightly. I even started to get soaked a little bit to be honest and my nipples were starting to take form, if you know what I mean - my body was confused for God’s sake, what can I say! 

For the first time, he started to speak to me like an actual human being. He made eye contact and he actually smiled – and not a pitiful smile like the one you would use when talking to a child who still believes in Santa Clause, but an actual smile; almost like I was all of a sudden real to him or something. It was really weird. 

My voice trembled a little bit because I was feeling things that weren’t necessarily pleasant and all I wanted to do was get the f*ck out of that weirdo’s office, grab my shoes and run away. I started to ask him, “What chair?”, because I had literally forgotten that I had imagined hitting him with the folding chair that I was now sitting on only a few minutes ago. He stopped me and said to me: “I’ve been having a really stressful time here in the city, so many times during each day, I have to go to my happy place to get happy before anyone can try to piss me off or stress me out – I’m so happy right now that if you pulled that yellow thong of yours to the side and sh*tted on my desk I wouldn’t even be mad at you – that’s how happy I am. And that’s why I’m always going somewhere every time you see me – to my happy place”. 

Then he continued, saying: “… but guess what? “ 

At this point it was as if I was hypnotised. I felt a deep sense of euphoria and relaxation for no reason – I was just happy. When I get really relaxed sometimes, I start to feel like I need to make poo poo but I can usually hold it for long if I can get some farts out quickly. It started to happen, so I lifted one of my cheeks off the seat slightly, and let one loose. He didn’t move an inch but all of a sudden I noticed he wasn’t leaned over his desk anymore, his back was on the backrest of his seat and he was leaning way backwards, as if he had seen it coming. Then I remembered what he said about “if I sh*tted on his desk, blah blah blah”, and about my yellow thong. How did he know my thong was yellow? Did he know I would get gas? So many things were going through my mind. But all of a sudden I didn’t want to escape from this creepy weirdo anymore, I started to feel really comfortable. Then he continued: “ … Welcome to my happy place. I invited you here because you are really sad deep down inside. Every time I look at your new Armani skirt suit, your new Louis Vuitton shoes, yet another new pair of Versace sun shades and your new limited edition Prada bag or whatever designer is trending at the time, I think to myself how happy you’ll never be if you continue to seek happiness on the outside. It makes me sick. And it f*cks up my whole day, every day”. He continued: “You see, our minds can never meet because I’m way too far advanced. But when your time comes and you too advance along the path, I will conquer you”. And then he added the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard. He said: “I’ve made you happy, now go to your office and take off your garments”. All of a sudden it felt creepy and yukky again. I covered my breasts even though they were not exposed. He said: “Take this special gift, it’s more expensive than anything you’ll ever own. I forgive you”. I put my hand out to receive the gift but he just got up, walked over to the light switch, turned the light on and opened the door. I pouted and walked out without making eye contact, still covering my breasts. I grabbed my shoes and walked back to my office. 

When I sat in my office chair to write this article, a sudden sense of clarity overwhelmed me. Something had changed inside me, and I suddenly understood everything "The Imagination Guy" had said and everything he meant from start to finish. I closed all the blinds and locked the door. I took off all the designer clothes that had made me so happy for so long, my shoes, my wrist watch, my necklace, my bracelet, my ankle bracelet, my other necklace, my other bracelet, my tongue ring, my nose ring, my ear rings, my nipple rings, and my belly button ring. The only things I had left on me were the 12 diamond encrusted studs on my … err… my ... umm... my "Dua Lipa" (that’s my vagina). They're the most expensive fashion accessories I wear that are not fashion accessories at all. I can sense you are eager to know why so I’ll tell you. You see, I like to wear really short skirts. But I also like to drink and party all the time. The 12 diamond studs I wear are fitted backwards. That means I’ve got 12 diamond encrusted spikes on the inside of my, err… "Dua Labia". Not just to prevent anyone from breaking into my, err… "house" (that’s my vagina too) but also to prevent them from leaving. I know – Ouch! Right?

I know all the ladies reading this really feel me on that one. But before you go rushing down to your local cheap ass piercing and tattoo parlour, I must warn you that this was a custom job tailored to the specific shape and size of my, err… my "lady lips". If done improperly, you’d have to walk like a man – like you’ve got two big wrecking balls and a pendulum in between your thighs – and nobody would want you anyway, so it would be pointless. Let’s move on.

But what was the gift “The Imagination Guy” spoke of and why did he not give me anything?

The whole incident was just too weird and complicated, so I thought to myself: “Fuck that guy”. 

Then I took a deep breath and, just as I was about to close my eyes my phone rang. It was my new intern. She’s been late every single day since I hired her. She always has an excuse and she says it with confidence while looking me straight in the eye each time. It's always somebody else's fault, never hers. You see, normally I would take pleasure in yelling at her: “Where the f*ck have you been??” Or “What f*cking time were you supposed to be here??” Or my favourite: “What time is it in your blissful f*cking universe??”. It’s my favourite because she never gets it. It’s from the old saying: “Ignorance is bliss”. It’s my way of calling her ignorant. I even gave her the nickname “Bliss” and she ran with it and uses it as her rap name now, he-he-he. What a knucklehead. Anyway, it occurred to me that maybe I had taken so much pleasure in yelling at her for being late that it made me happy and I in fact looked forward to it every day. So essentially, I was somehow subconsciously making her late. But it was different today, maybe because she couldn’t hear me breathing angrily over the phone and hitting the telephone receiver on the table many times furiously or in the case of video calls, grabbing the computer monitor and shaking it furiously – I was totally chilled and silent as I waited for her excuse. She didn’t seem as confident but nevertheless, she had an excuse. She said: “I’m sooooo sorry I’m late again but it wasn’t my fault; my dog got hit by a cat”... She meant to say “hit by a car”. I said to her: “Just take the day off”, and hung up the phone. I couldn’t believe I was so chilled. I put my head on the headrest of my chair for the first time and then my eyes closed slowly. 

The insane words of “The Imagination Guy” replayed in my head: 

“I’m so happy right now that if you pulled that yellow thong to the side and sh*tted on my desk I wouldn’t even be mad at you – that’s how happy I am. That’s why I’m always going somewhere every time you see me - to my happy place”.

I chuckled, I’ve never chuckled before. The whole experience started to seem funny and I saw everything that had occurred slightly differently in my head - like I was watching a TV drama or something. I saw my whole life flash before my eyes, and I realised how angry and miserable I had become deep down inside over the past few years. I had so many opinions and reservations about so many things and so many people, and none of them mattered even the slightest bit. I’d spent days and nights doing squats to make my butt tighter and tighter, with amazing results, but I didn’t realise that my mind was balled up tighter than a fist. I imagined a tightly closed fist unclenching in my mind and when it opened fully it revealed a large glowing ball shining brighter than the sun, getting brighter and brighter till I was blinded inside my own mind and consumed by the light. For some reason I struggled and I felt like I couldn’t leave for a moment, then I realised all I had to do was open my eyes. I opened my eyes, and then I took many deep breaths, like one would do after a weird dream. It felt like I had travelled a thousand miles away, yet I hadn’t moved. Everything was slightly blurred, as if I had just woken up from a deep sleep. Then my eyes cleared and I blurted out these words, like a crazy person: “I forgive you”. Those were the exact last words of “The Imagination Guy” before I left his office. That was his gift to me – the unclenching of the fist - the forgiveness of the people of the world for being such f*cking douche bags, the forgiveness of myself for not achieving my goals as quickly as I wanted, and the forgiveness of God for letting it be so. I suddenly remembered I was completely naked. I jumped up and put all my clothes back on and wondered what the f*ck had just happened. Then I got back to work.

I grabbed the CD on my desk that had been placed there by those pesky A&R guys for me to review, hit the play button, and now we are about to get right to the music review. So let’s do it. And yes, I still have a CD player. I’ve even got a cassette player too. I don’t f*ck with Spotify, but maybe all that will change after today, since I’m not angry at the world anymore. I might even use Chat GPT and make a health drink using AI. Just kidding – I will NEVER use AI. F*ck that! I’m perfectly content with the services and results of my real brain. The last thing I need is something thinking for me – I don’t even let PEOPLE think for me, I make my own decisions - f*ck everybody! Oh wait, I forgot, I forgave you all. I take that back 😊. “Phew!! Deep breaths, deep breaths, deep breaths”.

Okay let’s do the music review now. You are totally ready. You're gonna love this track. 

Just in case you are here for the first time, I’d like to welcome you but also inform you that we don’t f*ck around with throwaway music here. We do exactly that with “throw away” music, we throw it away. I must confess I have way too many CDs in my trash can right now though. Some of them deserve to be in there and some of them don’t. Others, I couldn't decide; so I put them in there too - I generally like to stay away from anything that creates doubt or uncertainty in my mind. The main one at the top of the pile is “The Tortured Poets Department”. I’ve never listened to Taylor Swift. I know you think that’s impossible but it’s true. And sometimes, to be honest I hope I never have to. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying she sucks – I’m just saying I’ve never been compelled to listen to a Taylor Swift song, or had any reason to do so. I’ve never listened to Justin Bieber, Drake, Kendrick Lamar or J. Cole either. Cardi B? NEVER! I’ve listened to one Nicky Minaj song though – the one with the MC Hammer beat. But all their latest CDs are in my trash can right now regardless 😊. I like that Steve Lacy song “Bad Habit”. I listened to a little Ice Spice the other day and it was cool – but only one song, the rest of the CD was annoying. It was like listening to the same song over and over again, remixed by AI or someone who didn't realise that's what it sounded like. It almost made me sick. I’ve got 2 extra trash cans on reserve for all Katie Perry’s future releases. But again I’m not saying she sucks, I just disliked that “I kissed a girl” song so much that I never wanted to ever hear another Katie Perry track. 

I hope I haven’t hurt any established mainstream artists’ feelings with my words, I totally meant to. Just kidding, he-he-he. To be honest, I doubt that any new mainstream artist that came out during the past year could satisfy me musically either. With all the sex music playing on the radio today, many new mainstream artists have a better chance of giving me an orgasm than an eargasm. And anyone who has ever tried knows – that’s a pretty big task in itself, so they should consider it a win. In fact, the last time my boyfriend saw me "melt" (that means cum), I saw a single tear roll down his cheek – a happy tear. So f*ck listening to all that porn music, I’ve got 16 vibrators and a boyfriend in every office building within a 10 mile radius so, when I turn on the radio you can bet your last penny I don’t wanna hear about anybody’s stretched out, vinegar needing vaginas and dirty butt plugs (please). By the way, I'm totally not a slut, I promise. Very few people have physically seen those 12 diamond encrusted studs I told you about earlier. In fact, I haven't taken them out for many days.  

Now where were we? 

Ah yes, my musical tastes. 

I’m not old, but one of the most exciting songs I’ve heard recently was “I’m Your Puppet”, by James & Bobby Purify. The track was released back in 1966 under the Universal Music Group imprint. Here’s a link, so you can get an idea of how I would have to feel after listening to a song to say it was really good. I only need to listen to the first 10 seconds of this track to get lifted. 20 seconds of it and I’m already in heaven. 30 seconds and I’m sprawled out on my office floor like a child making snow angels and floating away to my holiday home. 

To be honest with you, I never really like to tell people why I like a song when I write a review. What if I told you the first time I heard this track I pictured doing something you'd never do? Or feeling some way you'd never feel? That would be pointless because you probably wouldn't even bother listening would you? I wouldn't. Instead, I make my readers realise that there isn’t a chance in hell of me writing a review about a song or album I don’t like. It baffles me when I see people spend precious time talking about things they hate when there isn’t enough time in the world to talk about all the amazing things there are to love. I stumbled upon a post on Instagram yesterday that had me itching to comment but I had to restrain myself harder than a 13 year old boy watching his first hip hop music video. Luckily I've mastered the art of self control and I practice everyday. The video was at least one minute long. It was Tiffany Haddish saying something about people who supposedly dislike her and don’t want her to succeed. This was apparently right before she was about to go on stage. I couldn’t believe anyone would take a whole minute out of their day to address people who don't like them. I have long advocated for a Dislike button on Instagram, but no one is listening. 

Now that you know the song you are about to listen to is nothing short of a classic that you must add to every single one of your Spotify, Apple Music, YouTube and Tidal playlists, I really don’t feel the need to say any more about it, but let’s keep going. The first thing I like about the new song by rising Los Angeles, US singer Crystal Starr is that it makes sense all the way through. The lyrics, the production, the instrumentation, performance style and even the music video all fit nicely together to paint the same picture; and everything is exactly where it needs to be. It's a breakup song about a frustrated lady who has had enough. The mare fact that I could tell you what it was about in one short sentence by the 30th second of the track is another plus. It's simple and straight to the point. 

What made this song even more special for me was that I’ve been listening to Crystal Starr since she made her debut over a decade ago with songs like “Barracuda”, “Bang, Bang” and “Payback”. She had a retro pop sound back then, and has moved slowly and gracefully towards a more contemporary pop sound over the years. She has managed to do it without sacrificing any artistic integrity. Everything she creates is still original, fresh and meaningful. I don’t know if she writes her own songs but she performs them like she does. Everything feels so real and natural, not choreographed like a, well, “puppet”. 


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