There was a time , not too long ago, when bands actually had instruments in them with people that could play them. Their popularity was decided by the audience via radio play. They had to work their way to the top of the charts and into our homes!
The continual struggle of the true artist is reflected in their music which appeals to the working class. We could relate to the struggle overcome and commended these bands for their hard work. More often than not these bands' anthems would be coursing through our veins while we worked, while we played, and while we slept.
These archaic enigmas of lore would mutate themselves in the basements and garages all over the world, only to seek our attention when the rythmic howl of their work had reached perfection........Man!!......Those were the good Ol days!!!
So what the hell happened!?!?
Today we see and hear nothing more then marketing agencies' plasticine digital harmonics spewed forth with the repugnant tempo of an advertising jingle.
The pseudobands of today produce whole albums without an instrument , the members of the pseudoband didn't grow together under the strife of the starving artist, they are introduced to one another and thrown together based on looks and height under the energy-efficient fluorescents of an audition call.
Musical talent of the pseudoband is never a concern, lipsyncing and digital editing will most certainly alter even the most horrible of American Idol cast-offs into a popstar.
Have the music companies condensed and reduced the musical taste of our world into nice prepackaged generic vitiman capsules to ingest once a day or as needed. They must not think it matters that we're missing the true flavor of good old band music, the blandness of the music scene today is comparible to a diet of rice and water.
Luckily the bands of lore are forever secured in recording for us to get our fix.
I can still be entranced by the wail of Hendrix's guitar or the haunting ascendancy of Plant's vocals of Zepplin. Fortunately I can still sit in awe at the eerie spectacle called Floyd, I can still close my eyes and hear the beats of Bonham for it isn't the beats he hits its the ones he doesn't.......without these I would surely wither and die.
