What do you mean you’re deferring the Palestinian rapper feature because it’s not the right time?
I’m sorry for thinking you had a backbone
I thought you were anti-colonial
What do you mean you shitcanned all the editors who didn’t fall into the cis white box?
I thought you were champions of diversity
I thought you were pro-union
I thought you might pay A. Savage for that sick art he did on my queer Denton no wave piece
I am sorry for expecting something
I’m sorry for being PG-13 horny on my Twitter timeline
I will start being criminally horny in private like you because perception is reality
I will start loudly announcing every good and moral thing I pretend to feel
Instead of quietly demonstrating it through actions
I have clearly been doing this all wrong and I am sorry
I’m sorry for thinking the modern Power Pop Renaissance didn’t need to be an incestuous cesspool of meek mythomaniac sex pests with misplaced rage
I’ve listened to The Knack
I saw how Burger Records went down
I remember when that singer from Chicago tried to kill his bandmates with the van like it was yesterday
I remember when that keyboardist from Detroit got nabbed for kiddie porn and the band played on like nothing happened because it was yesterday
I’m sorry you wrote an album about seeing yourself as evil, manipulating, and controlling
I’m sorry you signed off on a bio that compares you to an abusive murderer
I’m sorry your ex had some feelings about that
I’m sorry your self-awareness didn’t shield you from your behavior
I’m sorry you thought an album review was a pledge of allegiance
I’m sorry our only conversation got stuck in your bitterness about not breaking out sooner
I’m sorry for whatever you’ve been through but it’s not an excuse
I’m sorry I didn’t vet you
I’m sorry that you are a stain on my meager legacy
I’m sorry that I wasn’t much help in the end
I’m sorry that your ex will probably go through this again
I should’ve known better and I am fucking sorry
I’m sorry to the journos
I’m sorry to the middle-aged British man who whinges about not being recognized as a legendary rap journo while being entirely disconnected from the underground
I’m sorry to the younger rap journo who got paid a couple hundred dollars to misquote the bars on a collab album
I wish you were paid ten times more to do your job well
I’m sorry to the journo writing puff pieces for Nazi metal bands at Revolver
I wish you thought your soul was worth more than what it costs to buy a concert ticket
I’m sorry for thinking that every music blog with a thriving comments section is just a subreddit playing dress-up
I’m sorry for acknowledging that we are all passing the same five dollars back and forth
I’m sorry for telling that 19-year-old with light in his eyes to get out while he can
I’m sorry to my 13-year-old self for hating this now
I wish I could hear Animal Collective for the first time again and pick up a different keyboard but I am in too deep now
I am my own publicist and I did not sign off on this
I am writing this shit in Wingdings so you know I am fr fr
You go ahead and plug it in the translator
You’re as online as I am, you just lie about it and grandstand
I’m sorry you think your community is real
I’m sorry your community is the A24-ification of a self-devouring high school clique
Your DMs are being passed around like hot potatoes
I have involuntarily seen your dick and you didn’t even send it to me
I have involuntarily seen that you are a dick and I can’t unsee it
I’m sorry this is what I spent a decade on
I’m sorry I abandoned my art for a hot dog and a digital handshake
I’m sorry I didn’t start saying what I meant sooner
I couldn’t give a shit about your forgiveness
But it’s time to start earning my own