I mean, look at it. Music that is solely produced for the masses, and is only made to move units and make money. It's become an industry similar to, say, steel. Where it's created solely to make profit.
I hate to sound like that guy that's like "It used to be about the music man", but it is, music is slowly losing it's soul in all areas.
Such as why I have a stance again downloading music - both legally through iTunes and asorted digital stores, or illegaly, like Limewire. It just seems to be cheapening the whole experience for me. I don't care if you pirate music, other than if you're a jerk about it and go boast about how many albums you downloaded last night. And plus, if you hunt around, you're likely to find a physical copy of the CD for less than what it is online. It's not that hard.
Tony Brummel, who founded Victory Records, and, according to Joel, is a jerk to his artists, has the same idea that I have:
"...it (iTunes) makes music disposable. It makes it a faceless impulse item. It steals its soul"
"I absolutely believe that allowing people to cherry-pick the tracks they want from each album cannibalises full-length album sales and is ultimately detrimental to the artists who created the music..."
And also in Showbread's song Stabbing Art To Death, describes pretty much how music has become something that is made not to be art, like almost virtually opposite to this. Showbread tends to say music is dead, seeing that their symbol is two quavers with a circle and slash through it, like a No Smoking sign, are claiming that they'll only create noise with music destroyed.
The song's pretty much about how music has been ruined for corporate gain, and how art is in ourselves, not in the world that deceives us so much.
But the lyrics to the song just sum up what I feel perfectly, and is the perfect way to close this post.
Art is not the world, art is in our heart
And so I am the prince of sounds that make ears ring
my princess kiss me with your sweet lips and lo,
my heart will sing if art is in yourself,
or in a class at school if art is ego and selfishness,
and at the mercy of primitive tools we sing sweet good-byes in screams and screeches
and bury these knives in your heart
no paintings or poems to let you live on
we've seen the last of art as servants and lovers
we wash your feet and cry out into the dark the noise, the beauty,
the love you bring me stabs these knives right into art
art is not the world,
art is in our hearts
Stab art to death...
