Whether it's because my subconscious meant to get to these few select pages or the Internet just happens to be so vast a dimension of lonely thoughts that there is no place within sight for hope, it doesn't matter, but I've lately been coming across a lot of Web literature on music that are inebriated with nostalgia for days gone by, along with the consequent dismay over the ironic tandem of incompetence and insincerity held in high regard by present-day artists.
This shouldn't surprise me, mind you. In fact, I'd be typing away my own frustrations day in, day out over these things were I diligent and wise enough to do so. At any rate, I can't really tackle these at length because my arguments as seen on Facebook have largely been defying objectivity because of my angst over what I perceive is an affront to the arts.
I have one sober thought to share though, albeit a little trite: what is worse than the sorry state of the music industry is the fact that we're passive about it. I'd elaborate on this by providing a semiotic analysis of the mawkishly lovelorn songs of Revillame, or the unfortunately enduring appeal of maladroit and predictable revivals (which by the way include covers of one-week old catchy tunes) but quite a lot of astute readings of these misfortunes passed off as art have already been made in hopes of making sense of their existence.
Things, you can't deny, are as sorry as they can get. If one day we hear of a devil sighting at one of the shows of whoever is the next big celebrity, let's not pretend to be shocked and ask what the odds are, because we all very well know how close the depths to which our musical sense has plummeted is to the abyss.
This shouldn't surprise me, mind you. In fact, I'd be typing away my own frustrations day in, day out over these things were I diligent and wise enough to do so. At any rate, I can't really tackle these at length because my arguments as seen on Facebook have largely been defying objectivity because of my angst over what I perceive is an affront to the arts.
I have one sober thought to share though, albeit a little trite: what is worse than the sorry state of the music industry is the fact that we're passive about it. I'd elaborate on this by providing a semiotic analysis of the mawkishly lovelorn songs of Revillame, or the unfortunately enduring appeal of maladroit and predictable revivals (which by the way include covers of one-week old catchy tunes) but quite a lot of astute readings of these misfortunes passed off as art have already been made in hopes of making sense of their existence.
Things, you can't deny, are as sorry as they can get. If one day we hear of a devil sighting at one of the shows of whoever is the next big celebrity, let's not pretend to be shocked and ask what the odds are, because we all very well know how close the depths to which our musical sense has plummeted is to the abyss.
