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Another blog article written for uni. With a TV review and news piece covered, I give you a rant aimed at the musical enigma of our times (guffaw)…

Unmasking madness: What Lady Gaga’s insane get-up may be concealing

Heralded as the greatest ever pop sensation, Lady Gaga has beguiled the world with her bizarre theatrics and out-of-this-world fashion. But I fail to see the charm…

It’s 1972 in Earls Court, London and Ziggy Stardust has walked centre stage. David Bowie has invented shock value. Elsewhere, a young Peter Gabriel has silenced audience members and an unsuspecting Genesis by donning a red dress and a homemade fox’s head.

Being minus seventeen years-old at the time, I can only imagine the strange and exciting atmosphere afoot.

Assuming you haven’t resided on Pluto for the past thirty years, these are iconic figures of eccentricity in Rock and Roll. Given another ten years, will people be able to recall the ubiquitous and kooky ‘icon’ of our times, Lady Gaga? This observer says: not bloody likely.

Both Bowie and Gabriel were creative, albeit, slightly bonkers individuals. But when the costumes shed and respective solo careers flourished they both had something unmistakable to fall back on…talent.

Lady Gaga (or Stefani Joanne Angelina Germanotta as her close friends know her) was apparently quite the child prodigy; playing piano by ear at age four before going on to write her first piano ballad at age 13. Impressive.

So where, may I ask is the evidence for this in her last two chart-topping albums? There’s no disputing Gaga can belt out a tune but unfortunately, when all is said and done, that’s all it amounts to: a temporarily catchy, but ultimately repetitive and meaningless husk of a jingle.

The Beatles can be forgiven for penning the charming ‘She loves you/yeah, yeah, yeah’. Even the somewhat tedious theme tune to Ghostbusters’s has a harmonious quality about it. But when Gaga feels the need to inform us of her ‘p-p-poker face/her p-poker face’, my p-p-patience with contemporary music begins to wear thin.

This repetition is present in almost every Gaga single to date [‘just dance/gonna be okay/just dance’] and if this wasn’t irksome enough, she manages to squeeze the name ‘Gaga’ into every verse just in case Radio 1 listeners fail to distinguish her latest offering from the usual monotonous din.

One can’t help feeling the visual effort put into Miss Gaga’s videos seems a disastrous waste, considering the main play it gets is to inebriated clubbers at 3am. She is shooting herself in the Perspex foot with this tactic.

I’d suggest Gaga try her hand at classical opera or release an album of acoustic covers. C’mon, Gaga in dungarees and plaid shirts? I can almost feel the world’s collective eyebrow rise. It’s precisely what she’d want.

Gaga is the finest example of style over substance. And can you honestly call a phone hat or a Ku Klux Klan-inspired robe ‘stylish’? I weep for my generation.

When Gaga’s long-suffering neck gives in to fifty pound crystal headgear, her music will seem very bland indeed. Heed my advice and throw in the leopard-print towel now, Miss Gaga, while you still have a fighting chance.

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