I think in general society has become a lot more dirty and sexualised and...well, slutty, basically, to the extent that Oscar Wilde's frivolities - every single one of them - wouldn't bat an eyelid nowadays, because whoring yourself out to anyone who'll take you and poisoning yourself to death with chemicals that give you a sudden, short high are ingrained into our way of life.
You know, and the songs we have reflect that, which is unfortunate because a lot of these artists have immense, naturally-given talent (notice I didn't say God-given, which is another bugbear - a psychopathic domineering mass murdering character in a bloody fairy tale written 1,000 years ago didn't give us anything, thanks) - where was I, they have all this talent and then completely, utterly waste it making work that has no meaning whatsoever, other than talking about their last relationship or the last time they *beep* someone or how they want loadsamoney and how they'll go in in a black Benz and come out in a white one, what's all this tripe going to say about our generation? My point, and what irritates me about this whole shabang, is that in the past, people made an effort.
A songwriter was an artist, actually an artist, Eleanor Rigby is art,
Group of Black Gang Members with Gold Chains and Bitches And Hoes Feat. Elinah Rigged-Me is not. Still, you've got someone like Eminem, a valid counterargument he would be, a great lyricist, an artist, but that's what sets him apart, a rough diamond in a field of horse muck. Why did I focus on him? No idea, he was the first one who came to mind, but I know there are others, so let's skip-a-dee-doo-dah away from his genre and back to music on the whole.
I hear very little currently relevant music that puts into my heart the hunger for more, the appreciation of the work that went into it, because I'm quite sure there isn't much work, but there is a lot of rest, and a hell of a lot of play, and a lot of sitting around watching bank balances increase exponentially. It's a mercenary's industry, run by self-obsessed moguls like Cowell and Clifford, and I'm sure all the stuff Clifford did has happened, and still happens, with great regularity, and the people who sell their souls to the industry are bound to it forever more, which wouldn't be an issue, except most of their voices are altered in computer software because in reality they sound like the anguished wails of a man who's just walked into a waist-high concrete bollard in the middle of the night. Joe Public consumes it like Joe Public consumes Big Macs and chicken nuggets, because Joe Public's easily led and impressionable; Cowell and the ashes of Clifford rest on their laurels, content with the gazillions they earn from doing absolutely nothing and safe in the knowledge that they can always harvest the souls of the unfortunate singers, songwriters and latterly-deformed members of the aristocracy who opened their mouths to sing in the shower, saw the bathroom window shatter and thought, 'hey, that window broke into a million little pieces - that must mean I've got a God-given talent!'
God-given, indeed.