JCHIt's the end of the world as we know it...
November 20th 2007 12:46
As I begin to write this piece, I continue to procrastinate, as doing so is one of the many positive things in my nature. I do so by leaning over to my stereo and turning on the radio, preparing for the worst and hoping for the best. As soon as I realise that I had the volume I mute and remedy the problem, I bare witness to the clamour that is “Me & U” by Cassie and as quickly as I had turned on the radio moments before, I turn it off. Why? Because I feel that, both mentally and emotionally, I cannot process another seemingly vacant song by an unspecified murmuring female RnB/hip hop artist. It’s not that I don’t have an appreciation for hip hop music, quite the contrary. My collection of hip-hop music ranges from Kanye West to NWA to Jay-Z to Missy Elliott. However, I cannot honestly fathom the prospect that another aesthetically pleasing female with a mildly pleasant voice in a short period has somehow obtained a recording contract, filmed a video and marketed herself as the next Janet Jackson. Wait a minute; I must, because this occurrence happens at a similar rate to the turn over of staff at the local McDonalds. Translation? One every few days if we are lucky.
As a child of the 90s, I was not brought up with Carole King or Chrissy Hynde. No, much to my own individual detriment, the music that defined my generation was that of the Spice Girls (whom I love) and other various examples of bubble gum pop. The late 90s offered the kind of music that many of us have attempted to mentally block out now that we have evolved past puberty. I stress the words ‘many of us’. If we look at a quick timeline, I was five years too late to appreciate grunge music, and five years too early for the hip-hop phenomenon of the early twenty first century. The point that I am trying to establish is that the current generation is suffering from a musical upbringing of a hip hop flooded lifestyle while my generation suffered under the throngs of Aqua and Hanson.
Is there a solution to this epidemic? I cannot be sure. When casually conversing with one of my peers at university, she kindly highlighted to me, “My favourite artist is Diddy, I just love how versatile he is. I mean, the Godzilla theme, he used violins and everything.” In that moment, I wanted to keel over into a gutter. In that moment, my untutored peer single handily offended more with that statement, than in my thirteen years of two faced, backstabbing all girls Catholic private school upbringing. Diddy sampled Kashmir by Led Zeppelin! Jimmy Page leant him the rights (for which I have not yet forgiven him), but still, he tarnished the classic that is Kashmir. The point of this segue is to demonstrate the lack of appreciation that the average adolescent has for respectable music. While I am slightly overreacting, can anyone see my point? Something needs to be done.
I am not adamant that every teenager in the world needs to know the origin of every great song ever written. But I am adamant that every teenage at least be aware that a world outside of 50 Cent and Matchbox 20 is in existence. My solution? Well, to be honest, I don’t exactly have one. My own personal solace is in my iPod. I should not judge/shame/avoid others because of their taste in music. Thus, I retreat to my iPod where I can safely listen to “Start Me Up”, “Anything, Anything”, “Instant Karma”, “Friends In Low Places”, “I Fall To Pieces” and “Interstate Love Song” without the threat of a dime a dozen beat entering my mind.
The world is not coming to an end (though it may as well be). Admittedly, some would consider my taste is music bad, dated and rank. I am willing to accept that. What I can’t accept is the monotony currently flooding commercial radio. I am sorry, but I can’t. I am now finished and now I must mentally measure the pros and cons of once again turning on the radio.
As a child of the 90s, I was not brought up with Carole King or Chrissy Hynde. No, much to my own individual detriment, the music that defined my generation was that of the Spice Girls (whom I love) and other various examples of bubble gum pop. The late 90s offered the kind of music that many of us have attempted to mentally block out now that we have evolved past puberty. I stress the words ‘many of us’. If we look at a quick timeline, I was five years too late to appreciate grunge music, and five years too early for the hip-hop phenomenon of the early twenty first century. The point that I am trying to establish is that the current generation is suffering from a musical upbringing of a hip hop flooded lifestyle while my generation suffered under the throngs of Aqua and Hanson.
Is there a solution to this epidemic? I cannot be sure. When casually conversing with one of my peers at university, she kindly highlighted to me, “My favourite artist is Diddy, I just love how versatile he is. I mean, the Godzilla theme, he used violins and everything.” In that moment, I wanted to keel over into a gutter. In that moment, my untutored peer single handily offended more with that statement, than in my thirteen years of two faced, backstabbing all girls Catholic private school upbringing. Diddy sampled Kashmir by Led Zeppelin! Jimmy Page leant him the rights (for which I have not yet forgiven him), but still, he tarnished the classic that is Kashmir. The point of this segue is to demonstrate the lack of appreciation that the average adolescent has for respectable music. While I am slightly overreacting, can anyone see my point? Something needs to be done.
I am not adamant that every teenager in the world needs to know the origin of every great song ever written. But I am adamant that every teenage at least be aware that a world outside of 50 Cent and Matchbox 20 is in existence. My solution? Well, to be honest, I don’t exactly have one. My own personal solace is in my iPod. I should not judge/shame/avoid others because of their taste in music. Thus, I retreat to my iPod where I can safely listen to “Start Me Up”, “Anything, Anything”, “Instant Karma”, “Friends In Low Places”, “I Fall To Pieces” and “Interstate Love Song” without the threat of a dime a dozen beat entering my mind.
The world is not coming to an end (though it may as well be). Admittedly, some would consider my taste is music bad, dated and rank. I am willing to accept that. What I can’t accept is the monotony currently flooding commercial radio. I am sorry, but I can’t. I am now finished and now I must mentally measure the pros and cons of once again turning on the radio.
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