Each Christmas in Britain, after all the bangers, mash, shepherd’s pie, and Carlsberg beer has been doled out by the local council, the fattest man in town undoes his belt, and demands to know what the hottest #1 jam record is. It’s just the way it is so don’t ask questions, America. I’m not making this up. For some reason, Britain has this long tradition of giving a fuck what the #1 song is over the holidays.
Simon Cowell, who ties everyone’s shoes, and thinks everyone’s thoughts in Great Britain, usually decides what the song-o-the-season will be. However, this year, there’s another retarded 800lb gorilla in the ring, and his name is Rage Against the Machine. (otherwise known as “What today’s 32 year-old waiters rebelled to in 1992”) They’d like for you to buy one of their 17 year-old shit-suck songs, instead of something else that is shitty and sucks. (Just, written this year)
So how the hell did the dumbest fight ever start? Let’s examine our own culture for clues.
In the western world, there is a very large group of people who are entirely fine with being told what to watch, and what to listen to. Recent studies have indicated that the difference between successful and unsuccessful pop songs is nothing more than how often people are exposed to them. Give a group of stupid girls with their father’s money uninterrupted accesses to the catchiness of Lady Gaga, and you have yourself instant success. Just be available. They’re quite seriously happy to be instructed on what to listen to, these people.
Radio stations long ago stopped playing masterpieces. Television networks long ago stopped producing smart comedy or intelligent drama. They all just bill themselves as “the place to be”. The message is clear: Hang out here. You won’t have to think.
Radio stations and record companies came up with the idea of “Top 10, 40, 100, etc” lists, and honestly, it’s a smart business move. Even more honestly, it’s a stake to the heart of artistry. I won’t bore you with a lecture on how pop = stupid. I’ll simply leave you with the sobering thought that we’ve stopped calling these people “artists”, and have become happy to call them “entertainers”. Like clowns or fireworks, their purpose is to hold our attention; the music is a back-burner milieu.
Simon Cowell is the arbiter god in this land of thoughtless entertainment. He is a business man, and he has unquestionable taste to pick the next “thing”. Say what you want about what he produces. He really is the holy trinity of dumb entertainment morphed into a single witty man. Whatever status he has in America, multiply that by infinity-times-two for Great Britain. For all I know, he’s wrestling Queen Elizabeth for the crown at this very moment.
Cowell is excellent at creating very profitable, very likable crap. Good for him, I say. I really have no problem with him feeding the masses what they already want. It seriously is NOT his fault that he’s rich. For that matter, if he wants run up to the fattest man in town and tell him “Joe McElderry is the hottest shit of Christmas. Blimey!”, I don’t give a fuck.
I’m not buying either record, because things that are “#1” suck. Here are a few other “#1s” that you can shove up your ass: Transformers, Barack Obama, The Secret, U2, the Atkins Diet. See? Too many flashes in the pan, and you’re just a blind asshole staring at a pan.
I’m happy that someone has decided to challenge the fact that music is fed to the masses almost intravenously. I’m just a little heartbroken that the most retarded protest band in the history of the world is the one to do it… a good dozen years after anyone gave a fuck about Rage Against the Machine.