Post Malone is the perfect pop star for this American moment. Thats not a compliment.
DALLAS — Him?
The most popular young artist in the most unpopular young nation is a rhinestone cowboy who looks like he crawled out of a primordial swamp of nacho cheese. Post Malone is a Halloween rental, a removable platinum grill, a Cubic Zirconium proposal on the jumbo screen of a last-place team.
His music — one of the shallowest bastardizations of rap to date, and I don’t say that lightly — has the creative tension of associates at a downtown law firm complaining that $150,000 a year just doesn’t cut it.
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