Bad Music, Bad Writing.

Phew. Just got in under the deadline...

Now, I’m no music expert, or even a connoisseur, but I knows what I likes and I likes what I knows. Sometimes, though, when I chance a listen of the terrestrial airwaves, I am saddened by the current state of pop music. That record labels have sunk to recording what sounds like soundtracks to snuff films or abortion procedures is only the tip of the iceberg. The “talent” spewing forth is deplorable, but with the more important things in the world to concern ourselves with, perhaps discussing that “talent” is a pointless endeavor.

Nevertheless, pointlessness is 80% of blogging, and I feel obliged to service that numeric majority.

Have you ever heard of this group called Danity Kane? Their single, “Show Stopper” makes me want to cry. It is awful. Just… I lose perspicacity, I lose cohesive thought, I become angry. It is a ridiculous hip hop/club bopping song crapped out of the mouths of hacky, airbrushed, kinda pretty, but ultimately shallow girls, brought together by that Sultan of Song, Diddy.

It’s like every other goddamn hip hop song that comes out these days: it’s a lifestyle rap. Remember when rappers used to rap about the lifestyle in the ghetto, or about watching your friend get capped, or just enjoying the fact that you had a good day? Those were simpler times. More relatable, I think, too. But, now…

EVERY. LAST. FRAKKING. SONG. IS. ABOUT. BEING. COOL.

Going to the club, getting in the club, mixing it up in the club, looking good at the club, hooking up at the club, show stopping at the club, flossing at the club, depositing ball sweat at the club…

Rolling in hummer limos and bein hard, foo. You don’t even KNOW.

Here’s a snippet of the song:

Bet you ain't never seen
Chicks ridin' this clean
Louis Vuitton seats
We do it deadly
This how we keep it poppin'
Make sure that bass knockin'
So when you see us ridin'
We call it show stoppin'

And the worst of it all is that the girls sound AWFUL. Just awful. They sing this HARD song sweetly, trying to demonstrate their vocal range. They’re the type of “women” who pose in every picture ever taken of them. Even if they’re with their grandma, they try to make it MySpace-appropriate.

I am just sick of this shit. Nothing good is being contributed to the culture with this clutter. Useless art made by useless people begets useless ideas generated by kids who absorb all this.

Not only is Danity Kane demonstrating that one only need to look good to kind of succeed, but also that the ultimate goal should be popular and have everybody looking at you. Looking at you do what?

If you ask the Pussycat Dolls this question, then they’d answer, “To watch us strut up and down a runway for no reason.”

The Pussycat Dolls, like Danity Cane, exist because of reality television competitions. Pussycat Dolls came to be after some show on UPN and the latter group from MTV’s Making the Band. Both groups are the forced merger of toned bodies and pitchy, undisciplined voices to create meal tickets for lazy fraks in suits – I mean, pop groups.

I don’t know why I get so angry when I hear even a second of their song, but I do. But they’re no exception. MTV has created a show called Twenty-Four Seven, and its basically the cheap-o reality version of HBO’s Entourage, about 6 or 7 douchebags trying to make it in Hollywood.

Suffice it to say, I’m a little miffed MTV hasn’t aired a show about a singular douchebag trying to make it in Hollywood…and has his own blog.