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.
๐๐๐๐ฉ ๐ ๐๐ค๐ก๐ ๐๐ฎ ๐ฝ๐ค๐จ๐จ – ๐ ๐ช๐ฃ๐ ๐๐ค๐ก๐ก๐๐ฃ๐
Charles is talking about quittingโฆ
A jobโs a job. How many times have we heard that? Itโs both optimistic and pessimistic, but ultimately saying a whole load of nothing. A job. We all have one; or most of us anyway. Some of you un/lucky ones are retired. Some of you are still students. But the majority is kept busy most of the time in a means of making money, in order to live. Seems simple enough. Some are content in their work, or simply donโt mind it; a jobโs a job. I am one of the lucky ones (I imagine a rarity) in being able to earn my living from doing what I am best at, and doing what I love. Producing and mixing music. This doesnโt mean I donโt work hard; I just donโt resent it. Each and every project is to me a worthwhile endeavour. Of course, I could do with a few more clients (preferably of the disgustingly rich variety), but things are fine, and my life is generally not a bad one. Still though: โCome to me, my pretties!โ Go on. Iโll make you shine. And no, I am not also a part-time window cleaner. And you – to be fair – are not a window. But I feel I can still see through most of you. Youโre unhappy in your work, arenโt you. You can tell me. I wonโt let on. Pour yourself into Uncle Charlieโs ears. Let it all out. Most of you accept it and get on with it. But given the chance youโd flee the scene if there werenโt a camera by the exit door and a great sense of guilt in doing so. Your feeling of elation and freedom would last a matter of minutes before you come to your senses and realise that you still need to put food on the table. And your partner might not feel the same elation: โYouโve done WHAT?? That is the most selfish unthought-out thing youโve ever done! Go back there right now and grovel to Mr. Potato Head for your job back, and pray that he lets you off lightly. If he has you back at all. I wouldnโt if I were himโ – yes, these fictitious lovers fondly call the boss, Mr. Potato Head.
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