is so infuriating I do not even know where to begin. Maybe with the ill-capitalized title, “L.A. Love (la la).” Come on, son.
Even though Fergie semi-pioneered this current wave of the faux white girl “blaccent” for Iggy Azalea, it’s a very Iggy Azalea sounding song; tandem to that is that Ferg is one of many white girls who think that because they grew up in L.A., or thereabouts, they are allowed to rep every aspect of chola culture, no matter how miniscule. (Look at that single art! My culture’s calavera is not your fashion statement, people, and yes I know Fergie is like, 1/18th Mexican). But here she just takes it there, desperately nabbing what she can every which way: the chola handstyle; a fake patois whilst shouting out Jamaica and Kingston (important note, one is a country and one is a city); an over-emphasis of the “th” sound in Ibiza; Nicki Minaj’s “eugch.” DJ Mustard produced, and while it’s lovely that he is getting money, it may end up being something he regrets, like a drunk tattoo. This is the drunk tattoo of DJ Mustard’s career. A$AP Fergie me the fuck away amirite?
It’s a sad lot, especially for a woman who I like a lot, despite myself. I’ll wax on the glory of “Glamorous” with no compunction, and tracks like “London Bridge” and “Clumsy” still knock. (For real, re-listen to “London Bridge“! So good.) But my first instinct upon hearing “L.A. Love” was “Yo get my borough and mom’s birth country out yo mouth,” which means that it kind of just makes me want to fight. Which is… not good.
