P!nk: All I Know So Far: Setlist

somewhere, on some radio, a phosphorus ! nk birdcall is playing—that ’ s been true for the past 20 years. She opened for NSYNC, then outlasted them ; she wrote a amazingly delicate anti-Bush ballad with the Indigo Girls, and her career outlasted that presidency ; she collaborated with the lead singer of the immediately disused band playfulness. at the height of its popularity, in a birdcall that hush gets radio play ; she wore giant sunglasses and mimed jabbing a soup-strainer down her throat to mock the Paris Hilton original of female celebrity, and stayed relevant longer than both Hilton and anti-Hilton backlash. p ! nk ’ south music oscillates between self-destruction and self-compassion, a libra she ’ second hit since her break album M ! ssndazstood in 2001. After a litany of brash statements and cries for avail, optimized for daze measure ( “ Teachers dated me/My parents hated me ” ), she builds to a plea : “ I ’ m a hazard to myself/Don ’ deoxythymidine monophosphate let me get me. ” On an album that strained to prove how dangerous or damaged or derailed the 22-year-old singer was—all dirty socks and diamond rings, extended metaphors describing her childhood as “ my Vietnam ” — “ Don ’ triiodothyronine Let Me Get Me ” was the sung that stunned. There ’ s constantly a sudden softness in her party tracks, or a natural, audacious apart in her ballads .
phosphorus ! nk is architecting her bequest nowadays, and the industry is celebrating her for sticking about. On Sunday, Billboard gave her its “ Icon ” award, days after Amazon released a objective, P ! nk : All I Know so Far, following the massive 2019 european tour behind her 2017 album Beautiful Trauma. In recent years, P ! nk has become known as a hot entertainer, performing stunts and singing through detailed acrobatic routines. The film focuses on her decision to bring her two young kids with her as she practiced and performed ; they flail in the background of her rehearsals, diaper-clad and puffing on a trumpet offstage. “ I want go to be perfect for every individual person that walks through those doors with a tag in their hand, ” P ! nk says at one point, “ but I besides want it to be perfective in my kids ’ minds. And I kill myself to do both. ”
That tune hovers over the film ’ mho accompanying live album, which leaves out some of P ! nk ’ sulfur more potent songs and rather asserts her place in a punk-adjacent musical canon, arguing that motherhood is basically compatible with her watered-down sword of rebellion. All I Know therefore far : Setlist is crammed with rock ‘n’ roll covers, some more successful than others. She braids a stomp adaptation of No Doubt ’ s “ Just a Girl ” into a performance of her 2008 track “ Funhouse, ” which both tamps down the absurdity of P ! nk ’ south metaphors ( “ This used to be a funhouse/But now it ’ s filled with evil clowns ” ) and highlights Gwen Stefani ’ s clear influence. Less thrill is her drive on “ Bohemian Rhapsody, ” which sags under the weight of ceremony without adding much to the original .
As a performer, P ! nk is fun and brash and loose. “ I forget the words, ” she murmurs on the read of her Nate Ruess collaboration, the cockamamie mallcore couple “ Just Give Me a Reason. ” “ Screw that, ” she says, and asks for a do-over. “ I like that song. ” She bounces on and off the beat on “ Who Knew, ” spilling over the song ’ randomness boundaries, and in the disarray the lyrics become disarming— “ I ’ ll keep you locked in my lead, ” she whimpers, “ until we meet again. ” When she belts, her normally raspy spokesperson scrapes at the notes, sometimes quivering with emotion. “ I ’ m very well, ” she cries on “ So What, ” convincing herself in substantial time, “ I ’ meter equitable fiiine. ” On “ Just Like a Pill, ” one of the best songs she ’ randomness written, the hearing rushes in to fill the gaps when she pauses ; the record becomes a document of this joint necessitate, artist and consultation working in tandem to cement a narrative of survival.

The narrative p ! nk wants to tell is that she ’ s a “ renegade, ” as she cooes on the title track—a fresh addition for the album, rooted in female empowerment—and that she ’ sulfur quell ahead of the times. But in reality P ! nk is less revolutionary ; she ’ sulfur updated her music and her message in ways that seem both dear and primed for bulk appeal. The album includes her viral 2017 acceptance address for the MTV Michael Jackson Video Vanguard prize, reasonably jarringly slotted after a series of hot songs, and in it she recalls talking to her then-six-year-old daughter about the toxicity of beauty standards and the exemption in androgyny. The applause fades into the following track, a honk EDM beat from Cash Cash thumping under snippets from P ! nk ’ randomness past interviews— “ I need to know my pain is helping your pain, ” she says, as the beat wheezes and drops. The message shows up on the album ’ s new songs, which seem less like anthems for the downtrodden and more like vessels for the statements P ! nk wants to make now. At the Billboard award show, she and her nine-year-old daughter hang suspended in the tune as they performed “ Cover Me in Sunshine. ” Guitar played somewhere offscreen, a low, forgettable strum. They twirled above the stage and chirped about “ commodity times. ” P ! nk swing toward her daughter and their foreheads pressed in concert. It ’ sulfur one of the weakest songs of her career ; it may besides mean the most.

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Category : music

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