Blood on the Dance Floor, Jeffree Star, Consider Me Dead, Davey Suicide

[HOW THE SYNTHS STOLE CHRISTMAS] A Floridian duo, pierced lips and torn jeans, Blood on the Dance Floor aims straight for the tweens, but the Critic, upon noting they've a full band on tour, grew excited whilst searching out bombast to skewer. Techno-pop anthems absent pretension or cheer? “That's a noise,” grinned the Critic, “that I simply must hear!” But the sound wasn't sad! Why, the sound sounded merry! The sound sounded pandering, doltish, unscary. Yet they draw ever more kids, no matter the press. Youth culture, perhaps, means a little bit less.