Roisin Murphy is the bomb.edu

I'll set the stage.  September 2008.  Bundang, a suburb outside of Seoul, South Korea.  I'm barely paying attention to Fashion Rocks 2007 or 2008 playing on the telly because suffering in the heat and humidity is taking up all my energy.  This is the most important aspect of the story.  That day I had spent too much on a one-of a kind 1920s-esque drop-waist dress from Japan with crayfish on it; therefore, I had to cut corners and not turn on the aircon.  I repeat, I bought a dress that had crayfish on it.  I still wear it.  With pride.  Ok, most important aspect of the story over.  

Meanwhile, a rando woman I've never heard of before, but is wearing the most rad gloves and boots, is introduced and this really haungting beat starts playing while glamorous skeletors start walking down the runway modeling Gucci.  Definitely was not paying attention to Gucci, but was instead mesmorized by this fabulous White lady.  Now I'm obsessed.  Ladies and Gents, I present Roisin Murphy.

I LURVE Roisin Murphy.  She was doing Lady Gaga before LG bewigged, besequined, and bemeated herself.  Yes, I made up two words.  Perhaps I should create a cintadictionary.  A third word.  Heffalumps.  A. Boston made up that one so it doesn't count.  Roisin takes fashion risks not to make a spectacle out of herself like certain bewigged superstars that I happen to love but do tire of easily, but because she's quite the eccentric.  And Irish.  But homegirl can rock Gareth Pugh and Victor & Rolf like no other.  And her voice is like budda (aka butter).  I hate that she's thrust into the indie dance music circuit but I would rather see her there than just on youtube singing to a brush wearing a heavy 1973 seafoam green cocktail gown with maribou feathers like I do every night before slumbering. So I implore you:  get to know Roisin Murphy.

I have an aside about a sort of non-mainstream woman in music.  For the record, ever since Florence Welch released that racist music video, she's gotten on my nerves.  I don't care for her English bohemian hippie soulful Joss Stone thing she's got going on.  This is the last time I ever mention that woman again.  And Florence, South Carolina sucks (In an Urusula from Little Mermaid voice, "So sad, but true.")