Lady Gaga, My Monster Mama

Pop Culture

Lady Gaga, My Monster Mama

Illustration: Akshita Monga

W

hen I first discovered Lady Gaga, I was on the singular path of turning into a morbidly screeching, air-guitaring metalhead. In pursuit of some classic teenage subversion (which is the reason why most people take to metal to begin with), I thought that all popular music was some mass-produced drivel for the consumption of lowbrow rabble whose idea of fine art was a cover of Champak.

Long story short, I was a stereotypical teenage arsehole and musically speaking, I preferred the company of other arseholes such as myself who’d sing songs about alien invasions and glorify the destruction of property. One day, while I was sorting out my books, VH1 was playing the pop hits of 2009. I heard someone say, “I want your psycho/Your vertigo shtick/Want you in my rear window/Baby you’re sick.”

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