The Brit awards have finally put the final nail in the coffin of British Rock ‘n Roll.
What a tame, bland and unexciting event it was.
Whatever happened to the edginess? the unexpected? the excitement? things that used to be associated with popular music culture? Where are the mavericks? the wild men? the Keith Richards’, Iggy pops’, Keith Moons’, Sid Vicious’ or Jim Morrisons’ that used to create havoc, where are the outspoken icons like John Lydon, Joe Strummer, and Bob Dylan who filled their records with revolutionary scorn, lest we forget my favourites Crass in that category, where are the obscure, like Frank Zappa, Captain Beefheart, psychic TV and The Residents, the ones that didn’t give a flying fuck what anyone thought of their records or making vast sums of money either, it’s all about the art darling!
These days it’s all about money, money, and in the case of the onslaught of boy bands in recent years, making pre pubescent girls knickers slightly moist at the mere sight of one of these spotty oiks, but I digress, back to last night’s shambles.
You could tell from the off that it wasn’t going to be a rock ‘n roll event, the darling of comedy James Corden hosted the event, about as un-rock and roll as you can get, the whole thing reeked of corporate organisation, it was more like a Tory conference.
But what made my blood boil was with One Direction, and what’s prompted this rant, how fucking dare they attempt to cover two punk classics, The Undertones ‘Teenage Kicks’, John Peel must have spun completely out of his grave, hopefully to haunt these little cunts, and then they murdered Blondie’s ‘One Way Or Another’. These floppy haired buffoons should stick to their soppy “boy meets girl” sugar coated pap.
My era was the punk years, the spirit of ’76 and all that, we had something to say, and boy did we say it! What are they dreaming up next? that long streak of piss Rylan doing a cover version of the Pistols ‘Anarchy’, God help us all.
Rock ‘n Roll music is supposed to be outrageous, exciting, edgy and dare I say it revolutionary. Yes there is a place in music for love songs but please leave it to the soul men and women, no one does it better than them, Marvin Gaye, Otis Redding, and the queen, Aretha Franklin, spotty faced teenagers telling you about love and a broken heart has as much credence as getting baby sitting advice from Jimmy Saville. As I said music should excite, make you ask questions, encourage you to learn an instrument, encourage you to form a band of your own, a real band mind you, not a fucking poncy boy band.
Be inventive, think for yourself, don’t confirm to the corporate idea and most importantly don’t lose your artistic integrity for the lure of the pound, real talent will make it in the end it just takes time and perseverance and if it doesn’t who gives a fuck your making music, music you love, live the dream.
‘Till the next time…..
Anarchy, Peace, Freedom, Equality