FEELING pressured to skim through subjective rankings of things you haven’t bothered to see or hear written by twats with nothing better to do? Check these out:
Albums of 2023
As recently as a decade ago, these lists were full of intrigue and mystery. ‘I must check out Doris by Earl Sweatshirt,’ you’d think, ‘and be a cooler person.’ Now you read lavish praise for a genre-warping indietronica album, pop it on streaming and conclude it’s shit within 45 seconds. Stick with the curated selection of CDs in your glovebox.
Films of 2023
Easy enough, given that piss-all got released post-Barbenheimer because the public can’t be trusted to see a film unless Timothée Chalamet is on a chatshow. All the other movies are either high-grossing Hollywood shite or artsy wankery you can’t justify wasting time on when you could have been down the pub. Anyway, the winner is Cocaine Bear.
TV of 2023
The opposite of albums: ten years ago you’d have seen most of it. Now you’re being recommended shows you’ve never heard of on streaming services you just now found out exist, and none of them can beat a midweek repeat of Masterchef. Anything that has any level of mass appeal is low in the chart and you’re basic for watching it.
Books of 2023
Come on. Who are you fooling? With attention spans at an all-time low, the only bigger waste of time than reading an article about books is an actual book. It doesn’t matter how highly the Times places the third of a five-volume definitive biography of Picasso, you’re not going to read it.
Podcasts of 2023
An infuriating list of part-time celebs that have nothing better to do than talk about their very fortunate rises to fame with unemployed friends. What new true crimes with implausible twists have been discovered? Which background noise comforts you most on the bus? Who’s kept you company during your lowest points? Why are you so alone?
Songs of 2023
Your last chance to bone up for your 2032 appearance on PopMaster, when you’ll be unable to identify which Taylor Swift song was from this year and which ruled all the other years of the decade like interchangeable South American despots. Your Spotify Wrapped was last week. You already know your song of the year. You are rightly ashamed.
