Music, my love…
The other day, I was thinking to myself: Does anybody actually care about truth, culture or dignity?
So, I figured something out… so I say it out loud (the rhyme just showed up…hooray). But does it actually help anybody?
And for the thousandth time, I decided, “fuck it… I am not going to waste my breath.”
And then…
When I look around hoping to see freedom, I see survival and maybe content. It bothers me because it screams of emotional poverty. And I know it’s conditioned because everybody is born with bright eyes.
The 21st century America is a very strange place. Beautiful, bountiful, but strange. It tells me, “I want your music in my catalogue as long as you agree that it’s not special, and I want your booty in my catalogue as if it’s not special, either”. It wants me to line up and lick the conveyor. It wants me to play ordinary. It wants me to march with the crowd and participate in the global sexual act that has been stripped of all magic. The underlying emotion is of disrespect.
What do I say? First, I have no words. Then I cry. I don’t like any of it. It’s counter-everything. It defeats my humanity, my dignity, and my sense of self. It’s a man (and woman) eating machine (I stole it from Grace Jones).
Turning music for the soul into a soundtrack for a product is idiotic, at best. In order to do so, one needs to betray one’s five year old self who just wanted to be happy…
In the Russian culture, there is a certain resentment of anybody who sticks out. In the classic American culture, there is a certain resentment of anybody who is relaxed. Twins!
Let's stay connected
Be a part of my inner circle.
No spam ever, and if you write to me, you will hear back.
Thanks, talk soon