Sunday, February 11, 2018

Music Ain't My Life

I have to admire some of the young folks I know.  There are a few who have dream of making music, selling albums, singing at as many venues as possible, and maybe hitting it big somewhere, like in Nashville or New York or LA.  It's great that they have the backing of parents, spouses and friends.  It's great that they have the funds and the time to chase their dream.  

What I don't like to see, is their seeming insistence on trying to sound like every other musician in the mainstream today.  I understand that's what they have to do in order to succeed.  I understand that this is what their agents are telling them to do.  Too bad they aren't able to think for themselves; create their own style; stand out from the others.

I've tried my best to listen to a few of the local youngsters who are trying to inch their way into the big time.  I've tried, but it's too painful to listen.  The mumbled words, the eliding of sounds, the same tired themes wear thin after a few minutes.  In some cases, I don't even try to listen any longer.  I see a new video and I just don't even play it.  I already know it's going to be the same angst in the voice, the same struggle to understand what in the fuck is being said, the same tired whine in the voice.

I really can't blame any of them for their sound.  They've been exposed to it from the lack of imagination from the industry itself.  I used to listen to country music, but it all sounds the same so to listen is pointless.  I was sitting in a medical office recently, waiting to have blood drawn.  They had a local station piped in over their pa system.  I sat there through about 5 or 6 songs and I swear I couldn't tell one from the next.  It was the exact song sang by different people in different keys.  At one point I even laughed out loud at the thought.  

But, I'm an old fart.  None of these young wannabes care to hear what anyone like me has to say.  And, they don't care that they have one less consumer.  There are enough bobbing heads left to buy their canned, unimaginative music.