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I am sick to fucking death of bland, mediocre bands with no heart and no soul. Fashionistas who write depthless songs designed specifically for the moment; firecracker acts who seem to deliberately manufacture their entire concept to have one hit album which goes off like a rocket, only to crash to earth and fade into oblivion because there was simply no content to back up the veneer. I am sick of turning on the radio and hearing the same fucking records over and over again; aural wallpaper designed to pacify rather than stimulate, affect or move.
I am sick and tired of James Blunt, Corinne Bailey Rae, Robbie Williams, Kubb and whatever numbing aural novacane is being flogged to death from week to week; music for people with no interest in music. Theirs is the art of background noise - they have nothing to say and even less to recommend about them. Their records will not endure; they will fail to outlast even the most stubborn or resistant of trends; worse still, they will never inspire.
We need to get back to basics. Real music made by real people. No surface, all feeling. Something that simply has to be said and is delivered with the unfiltered purity and burning fire of the uncontainable. When I listen to music I want something that's going to turn my stomach inside-out. I want something that's going to grab me and speak to me; something that's going to affect me in the same way that you're affected by the thrill of meeting someone who you think could become a major love or the feeling of being hopelessly, blissfully drunk. It should take you to another world, one that's either free from pain or capable of rendering you impervious to the pain you already feel. This is why we write songs: because we have to. There is no other way.
It's unlikely that you will ever discover your favourite song by listening to the radio; something tailored so specifically to what it is that makes you tick that it is simply not cut out for passive consumption by the nameless masses ambling their way through life without ever questioning or affecting a damn thing. They will go about their lives with nothing but passionless souls, gaping mouths and dead-eyed stares; they will pick up their Joss Stone album from the local branch of HMV and never really know why. For the rest of us, go and find it for yourself. It is out there waiting. When you find it, tell all your friends about it, and get them to tell their friends.
Keep music independent, in spirit if not always in practice. Spread the word, spread the love.
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