Instead a classic disclaimer.
I do not own anybody anything. Not a horseshit.
Back in the days I started writing reviews driven by passion and my inherited love of music. I do not make profit out of this, true, got a lot of music for free from artists, agencies and record labels, but they also got back exposure when and if I decided to write about the materials I receive.
Unfortunately, by the years passing bye, this hobby became a knife in my back and the pleasure disappeared, I started feeling obligated to write about all the stuffs I receive while, unfortunately, most of the stuffs are boring imitations of this and that, trendy rides and products of a greedy, ruthless entertainment industry. And I just can get rid of a song Dead Kennedys wrote – it seems like a lifetime away -, but which feel so painfully true and even more actual these days:
“Punk’s not dead
It just deserves to die
When it becomes another stale cartoon
A close-minded, self-centered social club
Ideas don’t matter
It’s who you know
If the music’s gotten boring
It’s because of the people who want everyone to sound the same
Who drive the bright people out of our so-called scene
Till all that’s left is a meaningless fad
Hardcore formulas are dogshit
Change and caring are what’s real
Is this a state of mind
Or just another label
The joy and hope of an alternative
Have become its own cliché
A hairstyle’s not a lifestyle
Imagine Sid Vicious at 35
Who needs a scene
Scared to love and to feel
By loud fast rules appeal
Who played last night?
“I don’t know, I forgot.
But diving off the stage
Was a lot of fun.”
So eager to please
Peer pressure decrees
So eager to please
Peer pressure decrees
Make the same old mistakes
Again and again,
Like your parents
What’s ripped us apart even more than drugs
Are the thieves and the goddamn liars
Ripping people off when they share their stuff
When someone falls are there any friends?
Harder core than thou for a year or two
Then it’s time to get a real job
Others stay home; it’s no fun to go out
When the gigs are wrecked by gangs and thugs
When the thugs form bands, look who gets record deals
From New York metal labels looking to scam
Who sign the most racist queer-bashing bands they can find
To make a buck revving kids up for war
Walk tall, act small
Only as tough as gang approval
Unity is bullshit
When it’s under someone’s fat boot
Where’s the common cause
Too many factions
Safely sulk in their shells
Agree with us on everything
Or we won’t help with anything
That kind of attitude
Just makes a split grow wider
Guess who’s laughing while the world explodes
When we’re all crybabies
Who fight best among ourselves
That farty old rock and roll attitude’s back
“It’s competition, man, we wanna break big.”
Who needs friends when the money’s good
That’s right, the ’70s are back.
Cock-rock metal’s like a bad laxative
It just don’t move me, ya know?
The music’s OK when there’s more ideas than solos
Do we rally need the attitude too?
Shedding thin skin too quickly
As a fan it disappoints me
Same old stupid sexist lyrics
Or is Satan all you can think of?
Crossover is just another word
For lack of ideas
Maybe what we need
Are more trolls under the bridge
Will the metalheads finally learn something-
Or will the punks throw away their education?
No one’s ever the best
Once they believe their own press
“Maturing” don’t mean rehashing
Mistakes of the past
The more things change
The more they stay the same
We can’t grow
When we won’t criticize ourselves
The ’60s weren’t all failure
It’s the ’70s that stunk
As the clock ticks we dig the same hole
Music scenes ain’t real life
They won’t get rid of the bomb
Won’t eliminate rape
Or bring down the banks
Any kind of real change
Takes more time and work
Than changing channels on a TV set.”
So, if you still feel your music worth more then the background noise of the subway train and I might find it interesting and attractive, go on, send me your stuff! But no promises, no offense, I might do not like what I hear and sometimes i might write things you don’t wanna hear!
Peace or whatever!