For many Milennials, Alanis Morissette was our first introduction to feminist music. I remmeber playing Jagged Little Pill over and over with my friends at age 14, screaming with her and shaking our heads so violently our hair would thrash around like angry storms. Many of the feelings we'd been experiencing, some for the first time, some for years already, were finally expressed in a way that made us better understand them.
Everyone wants to feel that they have worth. Personally I believe that this is what drives all human endeavor; not the desire for a mate, but the desire to feel worthwhile.
Imagine, then, what kind of a life you must lead, if your way of feeling that you have worth, your primary means of achieving external validation, is to give out free hand jobs at a Juggalo gathering. As described early on in Emma Carmichael's Deadspin article.
I did some investigation and I'm prepared to agree that Jay-Z deliberately displays occult symbols. What this means is a little more difficult to determine.
Perhaps the best article on this topic can be found on Vigilant Citizen. Author VC covers Jay-Z's use of various occult symbols, and thoughtfully deconstructs the music video for "Run This Town Tonight." (I was particularly impressed by this article's lack of incoherent nonsense, which is what most conspiracy theory discussions eventually break down into.)
Madonna (the real one and not her new, famous, and not necessarily improved impersonator Lady Gaga) once wrote a letter complaining about both Chicago and her then barbie-doll co-worker Geena Davis from the film, “A Leaue of Their Own”. Whatever her sexual orientation may be-- remember Madonna back from the days of her “Sex” book in erotic shots with both men and women--she obviously wasn’t all that interested in Geena Davis; rather, Madonna was much more focused on how ugly the men were in Chicago.
, I learned how frustrating it must be to live as a talented pop producer. No matter how awesome your backing track is, no matter how artfully constructed and impressively mixed, it's almost guaranteed to have some interchangeable pop idol talk-singing over it with some prohibitively bad lyrics. That's the real tragedy of Teenage Dream, as with so many generic pop albums.