Bevor jetzt, wo sich Herr Doubleshuffle auf die andere Seite geschlagen hat, nie wieder jemand was Schlechtes über Abba sagt, möchte ich doch noch kurz die böseste Kritik zitieren, die ich kenne, damit es nicht völlig langweilig wird:
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Strip away the production gloss and the "cleverly" bolted on, trendy pop elements—yes, the "well crafted" surface distraction shit that dazzles the dimwitted who value such things, i.e. the shallow lie over the actual, deep-seated essence—and you have....sentimental accordion beer garden Volk Musik. No more, no less. Now, accordion beer garden Volk Musik, is, depending upon your perspective, whatever it means to you, but the fact that ABBA wraps it all up in 70s swinging single disco cruise ship glitter kitsch is, in my view, where the (heh!) actually existing evil nests. The grotesque vulgarity of it all—its hollow, nihilistic true essence—is mercilessly and gleefully rubbed in your, my, everyone's face. This is, no fucking around, real amoral decadence, and it is neither glamorous nor pretty. There are no questioning or redemptive elements at stake, which is the 180-degree difference between ABBA and, oh, the Velvet Underground or Ziggy Stardust or For Your Pleasure Roxy Music or even fucking Jobriath. Just what is at stake in ABBA World? Nothing, and I don't mean nothing as in "like nothing you've ever heard" or "nothing as in no meaning at all," but rather Nothing as in Void—a one-way trap door that obviates community, inclusion and possibility—a meticulously and consciously constructed, garish black hole in which no light exists, designed from the ground up to negatively reflect Nothingness right back at you. Worse still, it delights in doing so. And THAT is what buying into the "well crafted" gets you.
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Im Original
hier.