Heady jam brah!

I'm pretty sure this is what my parents heard when I played my first bootleg for them.

Just please don't call me a monster

You little bitch. Fine. You win. I give up. But damn it if I didn’t try. I tried hating you. I tried to just lump you in with the rest of those jackasses. You know, those other talentless hacks that shake their shit on stage and call it music. I tried to just dismiss you as lame pop crap. I tried so damn hard. But try as I may, you won. I still can’t figure it out though. What the hell is it about you that actually makes me like you? Is it that you’re just better than those aforementioned hacks, or are you actually good? Maybe it’s because you have actual musical training beyond how to use auto-tune. Or possibly it’s because you’re originally a singer-songwriter. Or is that a deterrent, that I should hate you for selling out and turning pop? Or do I respect you for it? I can’t figure it out, but holy hell if you haven’t figured out a way to get your stupid little songs stuck in my head. So, I concede. You win. Goddamnit.