This world needs to mimic
The ways of vinyl disks
And have 45 revolutions per minute.
Let's spin it
So that the axis
On which this globe rotates
Gets rocked to the core,
Where social change
Travels at the sum of both
Speeds of light and sound.
Where music
Can finally be as innovative
As it used to be,
Instead of young hearts
Mindlessly beating to the sound
Of incessantly whining voices.
I truly miss the days
Where innovation was a regular occurrence
In lyrics and instrumentals.
What the fuck happened to guitar solos,
Inspired lyrics,
And voices that could shatter eardrums
And glass?
When did the smashing of a guitar
Against an amplifier
Lead to the butchering
Of classic rock
Superimposed by R&B singers
Deficient of soul?
I suppose we have to commute
Via the subways of our souls.
Perhaps we need to mine for those diamonds
Embedded within layers of horseshit.
Maybe the poetry I write
On a regular basis
Will somehow make a huge impact
On a scene
Set to the beat of drum machines
And synthesized rhythms
With synthesized bands
And synthesized songs about love.
Clichés about angels
Will no longer exist,
For one day
They will appear
And smite the ones
Who make a mockery
Out of something potentially sacred.
Which path will you choose as an artist?
Will you record the hymns of a new generation,
Where art will recover from the drudgery
Of all that is generic and homogenous?
Will we finally be rid of
The limp rhymes of crunk
And the piercing vox of the latest emo band?
Perhaps what I've always heard is true
And that you really can't have a renaissance
Without a dark age.
Perhaps crunk and emo will die
Along with the genres of disco and hair metal.
Perhaps rock music will make more sense
As generations pass,
Because as we speak,
Self-absorbed teenagers are rocking out
To messages that reinforce
Self-indulgent behavior.
As we speak,
Punk rock is dying
And becoming enraptured
Within a candy bubble.
As we speak,
Top artists sing about the same life struggles
Over and over,
And most of the crap deals with their wealth and fame.
As we speak,
Some chanteuse is getting busted
For some kind of drug related offense
And hasn't pumped out manufactured music
In a very long time.
But we the artists
Want the airwaves back.
Liberation will soon come
Once all the rubble from today's celebrity culture clears
And substance prevails.
Hopefully,
Today's trendsetters
Will be hiding under their beds
When 45 revolutions per minute
Finally come into fruition.
What will your frequency be?
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