with DeadSun
You've seen him in Fan Speak all around
the antiMUSIC network, now DeadSun gets his big show as the host of his
very own talk show, The Not Quite-So DeadShow ! Forget Oprah and
Dr. Phil, DeadSun knows how to liven up a talk show.
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Please Knock the Following Off
... an open letter from DS.
To whom it may concern,
Within the contents of this letter, I have enclosed important information, pursuant to certain miscellaneous observations which I have made over the course of time. As music itself plays an integral role in the artistic and (ergo) cultural enrichment of our lives, by way of its undying effort to both question and place the world around into an artistic format--- I believe that it is a worthy task to contemplate and question it likewise. Below you will find a brief list of items which I question the viability of, by way of observation. In short, I recommend the immediate removal of the following from general public awareness:
1.) That illustrious term, "bling bling". Aside from the obvious query as to whether we as a people needed an addendum to the English language to describe some donkey's gaudy jewelry--- the phrase has, for some time, come to be used by lame persons trying to use "hip" lingo. Thus, it isn't hip any longer. I've heard white, middle aged businessmen use this phrase. It's over--- having been fully assimilated by mainstream pop-culture to the degree that it is now a parody of its former self. Not unlike, say, Fred Durst, or Axl Rose. If you've recently used the phrase "bling bling", you might as well have followed it up with "groovy", or "daddy-o". You are ridiculous.
2.) "Easy Listening". The very height of questionable phrasings. Easy listening? Have any of you ever tried to sit through the entire span of "Up Where We Belong", as performed by Joe Cocker and Jenifer Warnes? Who among us would have the bold-faced audacity to point out the "ease" in stomaching "Hold On To the Nights", by Richard Marx? The same goes for Easy Listening's other vague accomplice, "Soft Rock". Simple formula here, people--- if it's "soft", then it isn't f*cking "Rock". Easy Listening is anything but. If anyone can show me how that's EASY, then I'll show you how EASY it is to auto-erotically arose yourself by watching Kelly Osbourne lick the hot fat from a roast chicken. Perhaps something like "Painful Listening", or even the (probably) more accurate "Ass Farmer Listening" might help to clear up the confusion.
3.) Rappers as "musicians". I've been beating this drum for years now. If rappers are musicians, then what musical instrument do they play? It makes no sense. They rhyme in meter, and with nuance, stress and unstress, etc., but poetry accomplishes as much without having to blur itself in with musicians who write and/or perform musical pieces--- and nobody seems to be in a knot over any "difficulty" in differentiating poetry from music. True enough, rap is an artform, but if I were to hand Missy Elliot a (for example) guitar or a tenor saxophone, she would be more likely to either try and bite it/eat it, or vacuum the floor with it, than she would to play it. Artist? I grant that. Musician? Not on your life.
4.) "Pop Divas" who drag each syllable of a sung word out for eight-plus seconds at a whack. I propose fines of $2,000 dollars (or foreign currency equivalent, as this rule should be global) for every second that each syllable exceeds seven seconds. It's more than just irritating, it is a social health hazard, due to the excessive strain it puts on the public sewers, when every person within earshot of this drivel has to run for the nearest toilet. Ever hear these flake-bags? Take the word "cloud"--- simple and brief, to be sure--- but in the clutches of someone like Mariah Carey, the word "cloud" becomes "c-low-ee-ow-ee-ah-aaay-hey-eee-ow-oo-owd.... ooh". The textbook example of this more obnoxious form of musical ass-drizzle is the nefarious "Theme From the Bodyguard" (I Will Always Love You) by Whitney Houston. Why it is that this song has not as of yet been regarded a formal declaration of war by every sovereign nation, and met with uncompromising retalliation, is utterly beyond me.
5.) "I need a beat for this techno part--- how about *bass drum - hi hat - bass drum - hi hat - bass drum - hi hat - bass drum hi hat*... ?" Uh. Uh. Uh. I readily admit I know comparatively little about techno. I am, however, confident that I know enough for it to be considerably apparent that this technique/formula has PRETTY MUCH been navigated, charted, employed, flirted with, tweaked, explored, thumped, pumped, laid out, recorded, mixed, re-mixed, and re-re-mixed, in sufficient volume, over the course of the past two decades or so, for those within the sub-genre of techno to... sort of... move on from there. Maybe something like an extra bass drum hit in between the second and third count--- you know, real revolutionary stuff. Believe me, I realize things aren't so far along as to introduce overly complicated concepts like different time signatures, or more than one over-arching structure per song. Evidently, the techno crowd, despite their renowned embrace of technological application in music, are still taking baby steps when it comes to structural development. Baby steps. Uh. Uh. Uh.
6.) Scott Stapp. A nice follow up for the "it's time to move on" theme from the previous paragraph--- Scott Stapp indeed. Conveniently Christian when there's a market to tap into and, other times, slightly less than not particularly Christian. I suppose it depends on how badly whoever might be in Scott's immediate presence (cough-311-cough-311) is in need of basking in the warmth of Mr. Stapp after he has turned his "Belligerent Twat" knob up to "11". Rumor has it that I have chunks in my stool with more charm than Mr. Stapp after he's had a few cocktails. Some might be able to get away with this--- but let us also never, never forget that this is the same individual who is directly responsible for musical felony otherwise known as "With Arms Wide Open". I think we've all spent enough time in psychotherapy, recovering from that trauma, to realize that Scott Stapp is a danger to us all, so long as he's still making records. What I can't figure out, though, is HOW that can be. Is it meant to be understood that there is still a viable market for cheese-dick Rock playboys, who turn a buck by doing lousy impersonations of Eddie Vedder? That's amazing. Utterly amazing.
I ask that you please take these items under advisory, and give them careful consideration. It is only through diligence, and a jointly measured and persistent effort, that we might identify and (in due course) help to erase the stigmata left by these pop-culture phenomena upon the public psyche. We must make the world a safer place, one brick at a time.
DS
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