The Death of Music?

The state of the music industry has gone down the proverbial shitter.

I seriously believe that humans are evolving to have no taste in music. Hell maybe even tone deafness from the womb.

Could it be my semi-old age giving me the cynical ear I’ve developed in the past couple years.

I once read an interesting feature on our great World Wide Web that stated all humans have a decrease in dopamine production after 24 years of age. Evolutionary tricky coupled with a love for dopamine producing drugs in my past have probably left me with the level of a cucumber. But I digress.

What the fuck happened to music?

In a sense we have entered the Great Depression of music. All genres…none are safe from the evil rabid baboon of mediocrity. Songs of emotion and feeling have largely been left to pasture as songs of sex and stupidity penetrate the mind like Nazi propaganda. Our children and middle age drunkard aunts everywhere have given up on real musical expression.

On a warm summer day in a year that remains a blur in my memory, I conducted an impromptu Q&A session with a varied cross-section of stoned Appalachian American trailer park dwellers. I asked why they liked the wretched sounds that often blared from their 1987 Panasonic television set. I grilled them on their opinions of great Lyrical genius’s ranging from Dylan to Neil young.

It was the general consensus that new music was for dancing and having a good time.

Words didn’t matter to a large extent, but more than often mentions of raw animalistic humping were said to have the greatest appeal. I have no qualms with raw violent sex, hell I’ve advocated for it on many occasions, but to see 6yr old child gyrating as if under the power of some ancient demon with a name harder to pronounce than any Iranian?

Sick foul lingo from early 90’s porno flicks put to a beat, twisted in with the most upbeat catchy phrasing.

I share a common thread with the deceased she beast once called Mainstream Disco. A short phenomenon that left many a young man with no money and suffering from sore runny nostrils during the late 1970’s into the early 80’s.

Today’s party crowd has adopted the same drug mentally with a slightly different edge. Out with cocaine and in with Molly. Out with bell bottoms and in with apple bottle jeans.

But fear not reader all is not gone!

There are guerilla rebels with real instruments, original thoughts and passion. They are out there… not to be found on radios or Wally-Mart shelves, these marauders exhibit their craft at festivals and shitty bars from coast to coast.

In closing, I ask you to search for and promote the artists that work to preserve our taste in music before mankind goes down the proverbial shitter.

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