Music These Days…MEH.
When I started blogging back in the late 60′s, okay, more like 2006, there was sooooo much music to write about. There were still hundreds, if not thousands of bands that had never been given their just due and the blogosphere was the perfect place to celebrate such bands. Along the way, I have shared a metric shit-ton of great music with my readers, made some super-cool friends, and had a lot of fun.
But I never thought I’d see the day where I just didn’t want to write about music anymore. The love is still there, although the flame doesn’t burn as bright and hot as it once did, but I can’t help wonder what’s the use? I feel like some poor guy might feel whose trying to convince a bunch of kids who’ve just seen The Beatles on Ed Sullivan that jazz is really where it’s at.
For the past couple decades, there have been many who have proclaimed that “Rock Is Dead”, but there was always at least one cool new band who was doing it right to make us believe that such proclamations were premature. Heck, even in 2010, I have found more than a few new bands to hang my hat, and my hopes for the future, upon.
But there I was at one of my favorite night spots last weekend. As usual, the DJ played tons of cool rock stuff that provided just the right background noise for a myriad of conversations going on around the room. This is what I love about this place, what keeps me coming back as often as I can, and, on this night, what made me decide to hang around a little later than usual.
Maybe I was too into my conversation, or my beer, to notice, but the next time I looked up, the vibe of the entire room had changed. For one thing, I could no longer hear the person I’d been conversing with, much less my own thoughts. As the crowd became a virtual showcase of the latest bling and chest-thumping, the music became an endless barrage of profanity with a beat.
Is this what constitutes “music” these days, or is this just the noise-of-choice for a tone-deaf generation that has nothing to say, so why not drown out whatever they might have to say with the latest Jay-Z joint? No fear of anyone humming this in the shower, that much is for sure.
When I was young, music was the stuff you hung your memories on. How can anyone hang a memory on belligerent boasts spewed by morons who can’t go five seconds without clutching their nut sack? “Yo, yo, yo, I was punchin’ out a bitch/Because she gave me head and then my sweaty balls began to itch!”
Just a suggestion, homie, but you may wanna stop “singin’” and have that looked at.
Of course, I’d have been just as upset if it had been Arcade Fire or Katy Perry that was being so forcefully rammed down my throat. Such artists seem to so earnestly insist themselves upon the world, but have nothing new to say. So you kissed a girl and liked it. Welcome to my world, honey! The Beatles insisted themselves upon no one. They sang and, in the span of two minutes, changed the world. These days, not a week goes by without some orchestrated revolution that falls on deaf ears. There is a generation so empty, so hollow that think each new thing is it, man. “This is our Beatles”, they say upon seeing Justin Bieber lip-sync. “We have seen the future”, they proclaim, “and it looks a lot like Lady Gaga’s butt, which isn’t all that great of a butt. We’ve seen old ladies with better butts at the gym, but please don’t try to take this from us. We need this. Please.”
Okay, fine, you can have this one. Just turn it down so I can hear myself think, okay?
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Darren Robbins is a fellow graduate of the “Almost Famous” University, a gifted songwriter, raconteur and lovable curmudgeon. When you’re not reading him here, check out his terrifc blog… HE’S A WHORE…check out his new STORE as well.
