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.
๐๐ค๐ข๐๐ข๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ง๐๐จ (๐๐๐๐ฉ. ๐๐๐ ๐ฝ๐ก๐๐ฃ๐๐๐ค๐ก๐ ๐๐ญ๐ฅ๐๐ง๐๐๐ฃ๐๐) [๐๐๐ ๐ ๐๐ฌ๐ค] – ๐๐๐๐ฎ๐๐ฃ ๐๐๐๐๐ฃ
Charles leaves his onions at the doorโฆ
And here we are again. Same place; different year. Right now, the papers are full of predictions for 2023. Not to mention ways to stay fit and healthy, and how to burn off the festive excess. We enjoyed the Christmas season and have the stomach to prove it. But the predictions thing is more interesting to me. The idea of guessing what is going to happen in the coming 12 months, is seemingly mandatory these days. And those days too. It is habitual for the press to predictably churn out the same unpredictable predictions, when each year they have one thing in common. They just don’t know. Did we guess a few years ago that a pandemic was going to change absolutely everything? Did we guess last year that the Queen was going to die? Did we guess that Ukraine would be thrown into war by the only living โhumanโ we are all universally allowed to hate – without fear that we are committing a hate crime? Did we guess that Argentina would win the World Cup? Did we guess that England wouldn’t? Well, maybe that one. We always do well, but never quite well enough. But so you see, we just donโt know.
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