It’s very easy to shit on modern pop music. It’s too vulgar. It’s too predictable. It’s quantized to perfection. And you’re not wrong. It’s all those things. Figuring that out does not make you the next Chomsky. And I ask you; so fucking what? The tension that builds in the verse and the relief that’s provided to you in the chorus is very real. Go ahead, fire up “…baby one more time” and try to listen with your heart. Let Britney’s voice riding the rhythm of the song take you away for a moment. Let the chord progression take you away for a second. Go ahead and feel good things. It can be our dirty little secret.