I’ve been able to bottle it up until now. It’s been boiling in the background, but I but a lid on it and let it be.
But now — now you’ve done it.
No, it’s not the US Thanksgiving’s Day NFL debacle.
And it’s not really the Grey Cup performance.
The thing that put me over the edge and forced my hand in writing this is the fact you have — once again — ended up (almost) at the top of US record sales.
Of the top 10 albums last week in the US, Canadians were one, two, three and six. The others were Buble, Drake and Bieber.
Buble: great guy, sap music, he’s a wash to me.
Drake: don’t know him and that’s enough.
Bieber? Inauthentic bubble-gum crap, but at least we know it.
But you, mister “our name is the grammatically incorrect way to give change to a customer,” I take issue with.
It’s not just that I dislike the music.
The music is — almost literally illegal.
It’s so similar, the only reason it’s not plagiarizing is that you’re not willing to sue yourself.
It has all the sonic creativity of a muffler.
But ok, so you don’t intend to revolutionize the way music is played. No one is comparing you to, well, any worthwhile musician.
The lyrics I find more offensive. They’re the WWE of poetry.
Half are sappiness repackaged for testosterone based life forms. The other half seem to be based on a half-dozen KISS songs.
Playing scrabble against you would be a joy, but would lack the mental stimulation of washing dishes.
But the thing that bothers me the most is that you exist.
You are proof that marketing is more powerful than culture or taste.
You project an idea of masculinity that is not only unhealthy to the individual, but also the society.
You’re creating an army of unthinking clones looking at your lifestyle and agreeing that sure, getting drunk
off cheap corporate beer and watching guys fight on TV is probably what I want to achieve in my life.
You are run by marketing executives so morally bankrupt I bet tobacco lobbyists meet up with them to hear tales of the darkside.
And that’s where my anger lies. Not with the man-children up on stage, reliving fantasies of junior high.
It’s the Nickelback that exists in the boardroom, that are parasites to all those around them. What’s most painful about it is not just that they exist, corrupting the very idea of culture to fit it in a wallet, is the fact that Nickelback is still apparently relevant, what, 10 years after their only real hit?
Since then it’s been a constant ctrl C, ctrl V on to album after album.
So where does that leave us? I’m not sure about you, but I’m going to go listen to a three year-old bang on a pot.
Sure, it may not be produced to someone’s idea of sonic perfection, but at least its authentic.
This was an article I wrote for the Omega, the TRU newspaper I’m the news editor at. – Kergin
Threat Shark 