The Day the Music Un-Died
On February 3, 1959, the music died. Three legends were lost in a horrific and devastating plane crash leaving the world aghast. However, from the wreckage and debris, the sorrow and anguish, came inspiration for a generation of musicians. The day known as the "Day the Music Died," encapsulated so bittersweetly in Don McLean's allegorical masterpiece, "American Pie," it could be argued, was the very same day on which the music born anew.
Thirty-five years later, Music lies in her deathbed, a sick, tired shadow of her former self. Her vital signs blip sporadically at uneven intervals; the pallor in her eyes hints only vaguely at glory days gone by; her sickly musk of abandon and prostitution evokes both pity and ire. Music, after an extensive and costly heart-and-soul-ectomy, seemed on the cusp of rejoining Buddy, Richie and the Bopper.
In September of 2004, the music died once again. Ashlee Simpson did something that no woman had ever done before: she went triple-platinum on her debut release. One month later, Ashlee was caught lip syncing on one of television's most coveted live forums for over a quarter of a century: Saturday Night Live. One month later, Ashlee was slated to sing at the biggest college football game of the year: the Orange Bowl.
As Ashlee accepted her award certifying that over 3,000,000 people found her talented enough to warrant purchasing her album, music flat lined. The following developments regarding SNL and the Orange Bowl were a metaphorical equivalent to kicking the corpse in the ribs and pissing on its grave.
But music, like a phoenix or a really gross zombie, always seems to rise from its tomb.
On January 4, 2005, in Miami, Florida, Ashlee Simpson delivered one of the worst live television performances of all time, singing her new single, "La La," in front of 72,000 drunken college students and alumni. Her voice could be compared to a rusty door hinge being wrenched back and forth, a cat violently disemboweling itself, or a fat man slowly twisting a family of squirrels into one giant, hairy slinky.
This single instance of vocal atrocity, though, was not what brought music back from the dead. Music's pulse jumped back into a steady rhythmic beat as a stadium of 72,000 and a television audience of millions stood and booed Billboard's 2004 "Best New Female Artist" right out of the stadium.
As America truly opened its eyes for the first time, it saw not a beautiful, iconic artist on the 50 yard line. It saw a spoiled, untalented 20-year-old millionaire with no idea how bad she sucks. If there's one thing America knows, it's how to deal with a spoiled, untalented 20-year-old millionaire with no idea how bad she sucks... you boo the shit out of her.
As the boos echoed from sea to shining sea, Music slowly crawled her way out of her wretched grave and back into the night. Unfortunately, years of bloodsucking from corporate vampires have left Music not so much alive as undead. Very likely, garbage will continue to spew out of the corporate music factories in the form of young, blonde songstresses backed by computerized sounds and 40-year-old expert studio musicians. But maybe--just maybe--there will be some benchmark for talent. Music is no longer dead but while zombie walk with open eyes, they are a groggy and defenseless bunch in general. They are easily tricked and led astray. But, at the very least, open eyes are better than closed eyes.
I'll take nine million Christina Aguileras and Britney Spearses for every one Ashlee Simpson.
Is Ashlee Simpson done for? No. Her album may even go quadruple platinum or, God forbid, diamond. But, at least her secret is out. Band error, acid reflux and microphone malfunctions can't explain how bad she sucked on Tuesday. Only sheer, unadulterated inaptitude can account for that, and she's got that in spades.
So, God bless you, America. God bless your ability to recognize trash when put in front of your and passed off as music. The music may have died, but you, America, made it un-die.
Buddy, Richie and the Bopper may not be proud of music today, but they would have been proud to take a big bite of American Pie on January 4, 2005: the Day the Music Un-Died.
Thirty-five years later, Music lies in her deathbed, a sick, tired shadow of her former self. Her vital signs blip sporadically at uneven intervals; the pallor in her eyes hints only vaguely at glory days gone by; her sickly musk of abandon and prostitution evokes both pity and ire. Music, after an extensive and costly heart-and-soul-ectomy, seemed on the cusp of rejoining Buddy, Richie and the Bopper.
In September of 2004, the music died once again. Ashlee Simpson did something that no woman had ever done before: she went triple-platinum on her debut release. One month later, Ashlee was caught lip syncing on one of television's most coveted live forums for over a quarter of a century: Saturday Night Live. One month later, Ashlee was slated to sing at the biggest college football game of the year: the Orange Bowl.
As Ashlee accepted her award certifying that over 3,000,000 people found her talented enough to warrant purchasing her album, music flat lined. The following developments regarding SNL and the Orange Bowl were a metaphorical equivalent to kicking the corpse in the ribs and pissing on its grave.
But music, like a phoenix or a really gross zombie, always seems to rise from its tomb.
On January 4, 2005, in Miami, Florida, Ashlee Simpson delivered one of the worst live television performances of all time, singing her new single, "La La," in front of 72,000 drunken college students and alumni. Her voice could be compared to a rusty door hinge being wrenched back and forth, a cat violently disemboweling itself, or a fat man slowly twisting a family of squirrels into one giant, hairy slinky.
This single instance of vocal atrocity, though, was not what brought music back from the dead. Music's pulse jumped back into a steady rhythmic beat as a stadium of 72,000 and a television audience of millions stood and booed Billboard's 2004 "Best New Female Artist" right out of the stadium.
As America truly opened its eyes for the first time, it saw not a beautiful, iconic artist on the 50 yard line. It saw a spoiled, untalented 20-year-old millionaire with no idea how bad she sucks. If there's one thing America knows, it's how to deal with a spoiled, untalented 20-year-old millionaire with no idea how bad she sucks... you boo the shit out of her.
As the boos echoed from sea to shining sea, Music slowly crawled her way out of her wretched grave and back into the night. Unfortunately, years of bloodsucking from corporate vampires have left Music not so much alive as undead. Very likely, garbage will continue to spew out of the corporate music factories in the form of young, blonde songstresses backed by computerized sounds and 40-year-old expert studio musicians. But maybe--just maybe--there will be some benchmark for talent. Music is no longer dead but while zombie walk with open eyes, they are a groggy and defenseless bunch in general. They are easily tricked and led astray. But, at the very least, open eyes are better than closed eyes.
I'll take nine million Christina Aguileras and Britney Spearses for every one Ashlee Simpson.
Is Ashlee Simpson done for? No. Her album may even go quadruple platinum or, God forbid, diamond. But, at least her secret is out. Band error, acid reflux and microphone malfunctions can't explain how bad she sucked on Tuesday. Only sheer, unadulterated inaptitude can account for that, and she's got that in spades.
So, God bless you, America. God bless your ability to recognize trash when put in front of your and passed off as music. The music may have died, but you, America, made it un-die.
Buddy, Richie and the Bopper may not be proud of music today, but they would have been proud to take a big bite of American Pie on January 4, 2005: the Day the Music Un-Died.
posted by US Rovers Fans @ 3:20 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home