Picture the scene - a party full of teenagers gently sipping alcopops and chatting about their courses and future careers. They huddle together whilst their parents sprawl around unselfconciously.
Who gets to do the music? Well the kiddies try, but their taste is so appalling you are keen to phone ‘Rent-a-Serial-Killer’ to put them out of their misery. A procession of pop pap, chart drivel and manufactured middle-class bands, none of which have a clue.
So the grown-ups surreptitiously stage a coup-d’etat of the CD player and put some good music on. How do the kids react? ‘Wow, what’s this?’ ‘You know this stuff?’ or even ‘Turn it up!’?? No, it’s hands over the ears time and little calls of ‘turn it down’. And they’re not being ironic - these buggers mean it!
I really feel sorry for this batch. I’d hate to be seventeen today. Music is either chart rubbish - Sandy Thom, James Blunt or similar cloned vomit-inducing half-bred lunatics or identikit ‘indie’ cloned sleep-inducing half-bred lunatics playing guitars, posing and - LOL - smoking!.Watching kids today is like looking at photos of Wigan, 1931, hangdog featureless squibs puffing away on feeble roll-ups, coughing up phlegm and mumbling ‘no future - whatever’.
So the poor sods not only are so charisma-free that they like stuff like Green Day but they really don’t have a future, because nobody’s preparing them for the scenario that’s now unfolding at breakneck speed - Climate Change grappling with Peak Oil. These buggers will never drive, own property, live beyond thirty, earn more than a pittance or ski. And they’ll never know what music can do, because they’re so dead from the neck up and waist down that they’ll like anything they’re told to by the morons, lemmings and half-bred lunatics that have decided they’re running the country now ... and just happen to own the music industry.
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