Welcome all to ๐๐ผ๐ป๐ป๐ผ๐น๐น๐โ๐ ๐๐ผ๐ฟ๐ป๐ฒ๐ฟ, a series of weekly reviews by Charles Connolly – an artist in his own right. Here, Charles delves into the greatest brand new singles brought to you by the best unsigned artists on our electrifying and eclectic set of ๐๐๐ฌ ๐ผ๐ง๐ฉ๐๐จ๐ฉ ๐๐ฅ๐ค๐ฉ๐ก๐๐๐๐ฉ playlists.
๐๐๐ฃ๐ค๐ง๐๐ – ๐๐๐๐๐ข๐ฎ๐จ๐ฉ, ๐๐๐ฃ๐ค
Charles remembers that life is for living.
I rarely go into the topic of the virus. Very rarely. Many reasons. It can be boring. It IS pretty boring. It can be lowering. We are all sick to death of reading about it. Maybe โsick to deathโ is a poor choice of expressions, in the circumstanceโฆ I just wanted to get something off my chest, as it were. Itโs about cycles. Neither of the bi- variety nor the menstrual kind, however to a certain extent it does involve the cycle of life – but not as we know it. When we speak of the cycle of life, we are really speaking of life and death; the being and the not being. I am not so interested in the not being, for there is nothing much to discuss there. The idea I had in mind is more in the way of cycles throughout our living. This time last year, things were very grim indeed. A vaccine had been approved, but it was not yet available to the general public. We waited with bated breath for the clock to tick past midnight, into a completely different year altogether. Good riddance to nasty 2020, and good morning fresh, golden ray of sunshine, 2021. To quote our festive friend: โHo Ho Hoโ. It did make me chuckle; the cynical, sadistic bastard that I am. The soiled cycle of the old year was complete, and the shiny, cling-film covered new one was just to be unwrapped. What joy! Santa is by this point joining me, rolling on the floor, laughing. ROFLing, I believe is the term these days. Well it wasnโt much of a change, was it. There was hope, however. We had a vaccine soon to keep us company. It can only be a good thing. But close to a year on, less than two thirds of London is vaccinated. Bravo! Variants came and went throughout the year. Many people became terrified and worried, regularly. Another variant means it is a journalistโs duty to terrify and worry. Spiffing! Every time we had a new variant, the press (and the people) would discuss whether it was particularly dangerous, and whether it would be immune to our sainted various vaccines. Immune to immunity! Who woulda thunk. We all so casually speak of science these days, not knowing the slightest thing about it. We are not scientists. Neither is the press. So we bring in the experts. They are very good at arguing with one another, and at being wrong. Eventually, even the journalists get bored of writing about the same stuff, and move on to something much more important. Like Prince Harry. Pahahaha! Santaโs having a grand old time now. So do we ever find out if various variants were able to beat the vaccine and win over our soulsโฆ? Nope. By this point, it is old news.
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