OK, some total BS in today’s USA Today, life section: The record labels are taking a new tack. Apparently, single song downloading is the “death of the album” as we know it, and we are moving “more and more towards a culture of single, disposable songs.”
Yeah, OK. What a load.
How about this for a new premise: Downloaders lose very little of the “art of the album” because the tired, generic, insipid record industry hasn’t acutally been *bothering* with it for years… the article itself can’t come up with a more recent example of a well structured album then 2000’s Marshal Mathers LP. Has not one of the downloader’s biggest complaints always been, “why should I pay full price for one single and 10 pieces of crap?” The cheek of this industry, to blame a mass falloff in their sales on a tiny minority instead of placing it where it belongs, squarely on the shoulders of a *backlash against their crap*.
You say my culture causes your mediocrity, I say your mediocrity causes my culture.
The Earth it did crack open on the day that I was born and a thousand merry pranksters came dancin’ through the storm.I lay cradle bound a howlin’ out my mind not knowin’ years to come I’d be shoutin’ over din
I sucked information through the holes in my skull as my belly gurgles hungry my mouth is always full.
I am Antipop; I’ll run against the grain till the day I drop. I am the Antipop; the man you cannot stop.
As a young man, I plug into the tube, but the stench of all that pretense I cannot muddle through.
I lay on my back and scan the radio all that comes out my speakers is a steady syrup flow.
I suck information through the holes in my skull as my belly gurgles hungry my mouth is always full.
I stood by watching and I seen ’em come and go. I seen ’em make that million then vanish in the snow.
They come upon you like a pack of rabid hounds as they slobber in your ears and purge you with their sounds.
Pushing misinformation through the holes in my skull my belly gurgles nauseous and still my mouth is full.
I am Antipop; I’ll run against the grain till the day I drop. I am the Antipop; the man you cannot stop.
—Primus, “Antipop”