In another time, Azealia Banks would have been a legend; in this time, she’s a spectacle

She’s taken her music and fled, leaving us to wander the digital wilderness. But to resort to SoundCloud? Must I truly descend into that chaotic bazaar of disjointed lo-fi loops and endless unfinished auditory debris? It is the ultimate rebellion—art stripped of ease, made almost unattainable.

An artist who dares to thumb her nose at convenience and conformity, Grimes has removed
Visions from Spotify as if to say, “You’ll work for this, or you’ll go without.” It’s an act of defiance to admire— a refusal to kneel before the corporate altar of algorithmic banality.

Hang the algorithmic feed, hang the influencer. Social media is a mirror of ourselves, distorted and hollow, where hope may rise for connection but, honey pie, you’re not safe here. And still, we run down to the safety of the town—if safety is even possible in a world thriveing on manufactured chaos

Burn down the disco, hang the blessed DJ

—but the DJ now is an artificial intelligence, spinning a soulless soundtrack of empty notifications and viral dances, saying nothing to us about our lives.

Panic on the streets of London
Panic on the streets of Birmingham
I wonder to myself
Could life ever be sane again?

For what are these streets but timelines now? The roads replaced by algorithms are designed to keep us jogging endlessly, scrolling through the lives of others while our own stagnates

And now, under the reign of that self-styled messiah of innovation, Elon Musk, it is little more than a vanity project—an empire of inanity ruled by the whims of a man who confuses provocation with progress. He’s bought the town square but turned it into a neon circus of his own ego.