
My admiration of Sasha Frere-Jones’ writing on music for the New Yorker, though enough in itself, also makes me feel a little smug to see that he’s fallen into the much derided “red wine” trap in his analysis of Lady Gaga. The cri de guerre at the beginning of “Just Dance” certainly sounds something like “red wine/got me/gaga.” It's what I sang for a long time until online flamers set me right. The spoken phrases are actually the part of the song where its architects are announced: Red One/Konvict/Gaga. I’m sure Lady Gaga is more of a vodka drinker; red wine is for the bourgeoisie.
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