Tym razem o innym "Wire". Męski klub w "prestiżowym" muzycznym magazynie ostro zdenerwował pewną blogerkę:

Such an exchange typifies the dynamic that underpins The Wire: as self-anointed chronicler of the global musical underground its relationship with pop music is at best ambiguous, and at worst reeks of an adolescent, male, Puritan hostility. It is the trained revulsion of boys to pink glittery things and dolls, transferred to the arena of music in which ‘pop’ is associated with those weak feminine qualities of consumption and pleasure. So boys are encouraged to make loud obnoxious noises in the sandpit with their toy trucks. So these boys grow up into Noise musicians who put black bags over their heads when they play (Vomir, issue #322) in order to further isolate themselves from the ‘socialisation’ of modern life – an almost comically solipsistic response to the world. Then again, I write this a woman – a person who has been socialised all her life into the “care work” which is supposedly a woman’s highest duty, and I find that I do care. Socialisation, per se, doesn’t strike me as a bad thing. It makes us human beings: aware of and responsible to the lives of others. It is pleasurable to care. Perhaps there are men out there who really do wish we could instead exist with bags over our heads, or be dragging each other into the woods and roaring loudly and thumping our chests at all times of the day and night – fuck civilisation, fuck it, yeah, it’s so oppressive, it’s just like my mum – it certainly feels that way when I read The Wire.


Cynk: Agata Pyzik/Twitter