Watching The First Episode Of Girls Band Cry And Concocting The Theory That The Measure Of Whether A

Watching the first episode of Girls Band Cry and concocting the theory that the measure of whether a music anime with an ensemble cast of women is going to be great or not (by my standards) is if it addresses the economy. I need my bitches to be partially or pathologically broke. I need the rich girls and the poor girls to go at each other like mongrels. I need the streets to take on a nature more residential than transportational. I need the city to be represented as networks of trends and flows and uses-and-throws throbbing to the heartless pulse of capital, littered and strewn with broken dreams and ghostly departures. I want despair and anxiety to ring in every jingle of the purse, and places to seem inches away from evaporating into exchange, and no vista to be uninterrupted by a river of sweaty suits in their weary stampedes between greying Sundays. I need this dread to surround the stage, bear down upon it, dog every strum and beat, and then I want the voices of the angry and lovestruck to blast through the fog and rise to someplace where the skies are still blue. I need the band to claw through swamps and sloughs and cling together even as the invisible hands pound down around them like an iron rain. I need the songs to be spat with bile and rheum and prayers from bitter lips that bite down on every scrap sinew of hope. That's when you know the music is going to be good. That's when it gets you to stop and look.