Kevin Federline - Playing With Fire
Thankfully, I finally found someone who had it. One of Mrs Martel's friends is a keen fan of Britney. We shall call her Kerry for the sake of anonymity. Kerry wanted to call her baby Britney, but her husband had more sense. And so there I was the other night after dinner, sitting beside the baby in her stroller, complete with buttons which you push to play music. As is always the case at Kerry's house, the TV is on, the radio is on, the computer is on, the iPod docking station is on and the constant clickety-click of dry swimming (mahjong to those who don't know any Cantonese) just adds to the mix. The ambient volume in the house is incredible. How anyone can think, let alone discern and identify any of the various sounds making up the background sound is beyond me. In the end, it all becomes like white noise - each sound cancels each other out and after a while the noise just disappears into a sort of low level hum.
Well, we awere approaching the low level hum and there were just three competing sounds left. One was the dry swimming in the corner; one was the tweety-pie music coming out of the baby's stroller when you pushed a button; and the third was this unidentifiable horror coming from either the computer or the docking station. Gradually, the dry swimming and the baby stroller began to cancel each other out and the single remaining un-matched sound began to dominate. It was awful. It was some kind of rapping, but it was unlike any sort of rapping I have ever heard. It was banal, irrhythmic and, when I could identify a phrase or a word, laughably stupid both in terms of delivery and lyrical content.
I asked Kerry what it was. I should have known - as a Britney fan she had to have anything which even touched Britney. "It's K-Fed's album" she yelled.
The Holy Grail had been found. I listened further. I couldn't pull my ears away from the sound. Here it was, the legendary, nay mythical Playing with Fire. And yes, the stories handed down to me by my grandfather as I sat on his knee were true, they were all true. This really is the worst album ever made in the history of mankind. So truly awful was it, that listening to it was compelling. I had to listen. I may never get this moment again. I wanted to savour it. How many times do you get to hear the worst album EVER? I wanted to remember this moment for ever. I wanted to be able to recall it with absolute clarity so that I, in my turn, could bounce my grand children on my knee, and tell them of the day I had heard the legendary album.
But I was pulled away from this reverie. The second button from the left on the baby's stroller played a ludicrously tinkly version of Mozart's Eine Kleine Nachtmusik. At the point the baby hit the button, I was pulled away from the Holy Grail and back to reality.
Imagine, my life had been saved by a tinkle-tinkle Mozart played to a baby. But I had seen the light. I had, for one brief moment heard the worst album in the history of the world. That Revelation has fundamentally changed me. It exists. I know it exists. I believe.
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on 2012-06-05 hstisgod Said:
haha, fair enough Chaz, think it'll find a competitor, Bieber comes out next month, no?
on 2012-06-05 CharlesMartel Said:
We all think and talk about what is the best album ever. well, here is my contender for the worst.
on 2012-06-05 hstisgod Said:
this even considered music?
on 2012-06-05 Carlita Said:
My sister got me Britney's reality show with him as a joke for Christmas. Needless to say I doubt Popozao was an immediate classic.