Critical Hit - MC Frontalot

I’m on the cover of a lot — a lot!

— of magazines

Note I don’t say all.

But I’ve been practicing

My big TV grin and charming banter

Interviewers, always follow-upping on the answers

Prancers such as I lift heels up

Get your people here, we’ll set some deals up

But don’t fuss my pretty little with the chores

I’m critically acclaimed and I’m never ignored

Now, notice that none of that’s true

Frontalot got inauthentic at you?

What else is new?

What else to do but keep on seeming

Like a celebration lyric could be anything redeeming?

I write the songs you can’t get out of your head

And my artistic accomplishments are often said

To soften dread in the hearts of the reviewers:

«another tour de force from the performer who inures

All listeners to the ravages of cynicism

With the pure and simple freshness of his syllogism.»

Listen, isn’t this the case: critical darlings

Always are unbeloved of the masses;

in the parlance

Of the populace, they suck.

And since I’m awful

Just an air gust that holds aloft the copter of the ROFL

It’s obvious why I’m such a critic’s to-do

But when Frontalot discusses it, is anything true?

And I quote, «His interrogation of failing to keep it real

Disassembles the meaning inherent and then reveals

Artifice itself to be integral to veracity.»

…part of a 5-star notice posted about the last CD

I’m at capacity, I overflow with fronting

(That was a good point once, but I fear it suffers blunting.)

Let me simply tell you something: the living is good

Up on the top of the top-ten lists where I just stood

In my fist, where the disc should be brandished like a trophy

Instead I’m holding onto the prize possession: self-loathing

And you know life’s sweet if you can sing about that

Like I rolled nat 20, double damage on the track