Rok is tot, and we have killed him - IN SEARCH OF SPACE #205

The following late-night whisky diatribe is not brought to you by Mastercard, or anyone else for that matter except me.


This is all so obvious I almost can’t be bothered to do it at all. I didn’t watch the BRITs, because I have better things to do. There was a child being attacked by a heron intent on harm, so I had to stop that. But apparently they had Everything. They had bland music, and boring music, and tedious music, and dull music, and they don’t care if you make shit music or crap music, it’s all represented. The Arctic Monkeys won Mastercard British Album of the Year award for what I thought was the most formless, pointless, gutless, rockless album of 2013; and Alex Turner made a speech. NME basically claimed he was Jesus Christ, returned from his long sabbatical to set us all straight, and various other nonentity celebrity fleshbags have opened their windpipes and exuded burblings to the effect that they didn’t like Alex Turner’s speech. I just had to look up this incendiary setting-straight of the world. I was further encouraged by the subtitle “rock and roll will never die” because I am completely opposed to that view. Here is the speech. The quality is woeful, but blame Alex Turner for that.

Aaaaand it sounds like something I’d have said with five lagers sizzling away in my brainpan when I was 14. It sounds like the kind of inconsequential bullshit coughed thoughtlessly onto the internet by amoeba internet rock commentators whenever they encounter a release that passes through some kind of bland wall to become a comment on blandness [self-aware joke swing… and a miss]. I’m trying to think of something half-intelligent to say about the microphone sign-off, but it just really makes me want to kick every single tooth out of his skull. It’s a speech at an awards ceremony so after the corporate-organised corporate-sponsored corporate-whored awards speech, the corporate-sponsored fake controversy machine has to start up. There was no actual controversy. If he had called himself a cunt, and retroactively given the award to Mainliner, or shoved the microphone up his arse on live television. Or better still, ritualistically set himself on fire as a symbol of protest, that would have been worth discussing. Instead we’ve got celebrity flesh-blobs bobbing around doing conspicuous amounts of nothing. I’ve seen headlines saying “Is Alex Turner rude?” well, he keeps unleashing his music upon a perfectly innocent world without apologising, so yeah, yeah he is rude. Is he arrogant? If I gave it any thought at all I’d probably be able to tell you.

Will rock and roll ‘never die’? Fucking probably. Like a money-grubbing old-arse relative with grey hair dying in a hospital bed with all their wrinkled genderlessness, rock and roll probably won’t die, the stubborn little bastard. Rock and roll needs to die. It needs someone to bust into the hospital and put both barrels through its tumour-addled brain. Alex Turner isn’t some sort of rebel, he is a corporate whore, with his legs spread wide and cunt hastily spit-lubed getting ready for the massive money-fucking that goes around in the BRITs' brothel. The self-importance is the key; “the cyclical nature of the universe in which it exists demands it adhere to some of its rules”, as Turner put it. Rock and roll isn’t some sort of spiritual higher calling, it’s a bunch of notes played by people. If you want Important, go volunteer down the homeless shelter you pretentious dick. So to Alex Turner, and his raging self-importance erection, the Mastercard money that got him and his ilk here in the first place, and the false-scandal bedroom eyes of all his detractors just making his continued turgidity more certain, and to the music press losers massaging his swollen ego; who would rather ruminate on the drunk half-arsed musings of a talentless git than do any kind of journalism or critique (and who will all be out of a job by 2020), to the whole twisted lot of them I say: Please carry on. Please continue to grind corporate-sponsored rock and roll into the ground because corporate-sponsored rock and roll is one of the worst things to ever happen to this beautiful medium. Really great music will continue to get made, whether Alex Turner wins or someone else wins, whether it’s a recession or not, whether the music press bothers to google it or not, whether we’re bombed with anthrax or not.

Rock and roll isn’t dead or alive, Alex. It’s some notes played by people. Sometimes they’re good, but none of yours have been lately, and sometimes they seem more important than they are. That’s the beauty of rock and roll and all music. But it’s only rock and roll, but I like it.

Written under duress by Steven.

1 comment:

Tony Maim said...

Nicely vented.

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