A Mother's Review Of Azealia Banks

“Whatever possessed me to agree to listen to this album is still a minor demon compared to the one that has taken over Azealia” – the words of my poor innocent mother after being forced to listen to Azealia Banks’ EP, 1991 (by me, her eldest son).

It is no secret that I am a huge Azealia Banks fan, or at least it isn’t anymore as I am writing a review of her latest and only EP telling the world how much I enjoyed it. I could have spent the next 500 words telling you that Banks is amazing and talented with an uncanny ability to shock virgin ears with her irreverent foul mouth, but that would have been boring. I wouldn’t want to read that. Instead wouldn’t you much rather read what my mom has to say about Azealia Banks? Yes. The answer is yes you would.

I bring you a mother’s review of Azealia Banks.

Track One: 1991

Don’t know how anyone with a name as pretty as the flower it sounds like, can fill a room with such a stench. She should have had her mouth washed out with holy soap. Most of her lyrics make about as much sense as reading the dictionary from left to right.

Track Two: Van Vogue

Is there an exorcist in the house? She is spitting some vile venom in Van Vogue, apparently all directed at anyone who hasn’t adopted what she refers to as the “bambi style” (is that a sex thing!?) and has the nerve to eat anything from Whole Foods. Only a nasty spirit would use the “c” word. And don’t tell me that those voices in the second hook don’t make you think of demon-possession or your worst nightmare.

 Track Three: 212

I don’t care what her area code is, if she calls me and starts to speak like this I’m hanging up! It’s absolutely ghastly that she uses those words while describing in detail things me and, I’m betting, her mother would rather not hear about.

Track Four: Liquorice

Oh, she’s liquorice all right; she’s one seriously twisted Twizzler. I’m leaving now to get my ears syringed (not sure what that means, mom) and my eyeballs scrubbed.

In closing, my mother is of the opinion that the music should be burned (if that is possible) and gave me a strict warning that she does not “like her foul mouth” and I’d be slapped silly if I ever talked like that.


Featured Writers

Audrey Farnsworth

Audrey Farnsworth

Audrey Farnsworth is a writer and comedian living in Los Angeles, and she likes...

Joel Ingersoll

Joel Ingersoll

Joel Ingersoll is a Clevelander living in exile in Saint Paul, Minnesota with...

Elle M

Elle M

Elle is a theoretical land bridge connecting Siberia and Alaska that sank into...

Roger Taylor

Roger Taylor

Mr. Taylor is a freelance aphorist available for both corporate retreats and...

Ray Ramos

Ray Ramos

Ray Ramos is a writer living in Los Angeles who learned at a tender age that if...

Listen to The Impersonals Podcast, feat. interviews w great tweeters