Warning, emo kids: a lashing from last generation
Warning: This essay contains bitter ramblings against the crap music our kids are force-fed and buying. I also take on the appearance of today’s stars, which I know has nothing to do with the music, but so what – it is my essay…
Damn. It has happened. I fought it and fought it, kicking and screaming, but it has happened to me. Music just doesn’t make any sense to me anymore. I am old, and all new music sucks.
There, I’ve said it.
With a very few exceptions, all new music sounds tired, clichéd and… well, just plain bad. When I was in the target age group of the record companies all those years ago, if they were going to package crappy tunes, they did just that – they packaged it. Crappy tunes from my teens and twenties were at least performed by good-looking people. (Examples: Samantha Fox, and all hair metal.)
Today, crappy music is performed by people who look like frogs (examples: Fergie and all emo bands). And worse – they are talentless, scary frogs. At least the hair metal bands could play instruments or scream in four octaves. Not that Fergie is the worst thing in music today (she might be) but she just happened to appear on the iTunes store page when I logged in today. It was enough to make me want to crawl back into bed.
Another frog – that Timberlake kid. Come on, man, at least cultivate your own style, don’t steal it from my generation’s freak-du-jour, Mr. Jackson (if you’re nasty). Hell, Corey Feldman tried to steal his gig 15 years ago. You see where it got him, don’t ya?
About those emo bands, and this needs to be said – get a pair, gentlemen! Your guitar has distortion to cover the fact that you cannot play, but nothing can hide your whiny-ass lyrics, not even your affected pronunciations. It is a good thing that chicks dig musicians, and that you were born now, because I can honestly say that your wussy, crybaby songs telling how you were wounded by mommy would not get you any action in my day. None. In fact, in my day it would probably have gotten your ass kicked by the girls you would be trying to impress, which ironically enough would have been, in my day, your mommys. Ha. Emo – what a freaking joke.
I will not comment on hip hop, or whatever it is called today, as I can honestly say that I have not heard enough to form an opinion. Maybe that says enough?
My bitch is with what is trying to pass for mainstream rock and roll. And sadly right now the only real music with substance is hiding right beneath the radar of today’s music-buying public. (Examples: pick an original indie band from anywhere that will never get the backing to appear on anyone’s radar.) But that radar only blasts out signals that last for less than three minutes, which matches the average attention span of today’s mass media-influenced youth. And you know what that means. I better stop now, as it will take at least that long to read this, which means it will no longer matter by the time you get to this.
More later. And that is a threat.
C. Howard is an officially middle-aged, highly opinionated and disaffected rock fan.