(In this latest installment of our year-end LISTMANIA series, we welcome a guest writer who goes by the name doGbreath, with a different kind of list.)
This is my playlist.
There are many like it, but this one is MINE.
Without me, my playlist is nothing.
Without my playlist, I am nothing.
Ah, the mighty playlist. Conveyor of taste, provocateur. There are many like it, but this one is mine.
It’s the purest form of democracy, the art of music. You consume what you like and everybody else can swing. It’s purely subjective, an invitation to judge a book by it’s cover, but with the advent of the Internet and world-wide constant and immediate access, we as humans have taken communication deeper, to a more fundamental level. We speak to each other through music. Words have become passé.
The meme is king, social media is queen, and the playlist is the joker and fool, always speaking truth to power. Oh, your pop diva bullshit act just sold ten million albums? Fuck you, I have a thousand bands here that actually play instruments, have better production than your pseudo-teen bitch, write riffs that rip your face off, AND bang hotter chicks than her as a recreational sport back in their home countries. Their albums will live forever, while your flash-in-the-pan pop construct will fade into obscurity the instant the publicity train stops to refuel. I listen to shit that’s more melodic than their melodies, listen to lyrics and vocal delivery with more emotion than they can photo-shop and auto-tune, and ingest imagery and artistry through cover art that stretch the imagination into places that horrify the general public. That’s fucking art people, in all it’s contentious forms, defined. Continue reading »