The real face of modern music
So, I am on I-465 today (the freeway around Indianapolis) as I am returning to school. Since there is no sense trying to listen to anything complicated, lest I allow my attention to lapse and entrust myself to the other "drivers," I listened to a Top 40 radio station. Big mistake.
A song called "Beep" by a group called "The Pussycat Dolls" came on the radio. If I weren't on the freeway, I would have pulled over to vomit and then have a good cry. If this is popular, modern music, then words escape me. I went to my good friend and cruel mistress Amazon.com and I Wikipedia'ed them to see what the fuss is all about...libera me, Domine. A cadre of underdressed twentysomethings prancing about, singing the most tuneless sonic excrement, and they still have the gall to talk about empowerment. The cause of female artists is set back immeasurably by this third-rate tripe. It's a good thing Birgit Nilsson is dead, as the passing of one of the greatest singers and best class-acts in music makes these women look slightly better.
Celibidache might have been a quack (possibly). Furtwängler might be an overrated fool kept at the top by memory more than talent (a craven lie, but I am being hyperbolic). However, even the most PR'ed, overhyped, and talentless hack in classical music (guess!) is far, far better than this crap. I fear for music, not for my sake, but for music's sake.