In the non-musical business designated by Corporations & catering to the lowest common denominator created by those Corporations and readily disseminated by the ‘Vichy artists’ as demonstrated by the dress-up figureheads who represent
the contrived public ‘taste,’ Grammys aren’t known as a trophies but as auto tune towards oblivion.
The perspectives of Rolling Stone are as relevant to the music business as someone who thinks b Flat is the apartment downstairs. There have always been innumerable assgoblins convinced of their talent in Fat Albert’s Outpatient Folk Clinic of egocentric self-absorbed retards given to massive outbreaks of Tourette’s(not to be confused with the band I’m touring with this summer, The Tourettes), never mind that they casually dishonor the dedicated and skilled artists whose passion involves a constancy of legitimate creation.
Objection to the Grammy’s is that whatever talent exists in a lot of popular artists has been buried not only beneath that avalanche of those poseurs’ demands for legitimacy, but also by production catering to the contrived popularity designated by corporations using figurehead shills of no substance but attitude.
But by giving the people their ‘voice’ in talent shows business satisfies a popular attitude and makes more cash while at the same time entrenching the perception that you can’t make it without the help of… big business.
Popular news media misdirects attention by focusing on goobers like Megan Thee & Cardi B simulating porn, asking ’did one of them fart on the other’ while well knowing the entire thing is a sham of unproportioned gas featuring some women with arses that look like they’re smuggling immigrants, or towing air-steams in a vehicle otherwise known as a clown car.
When really, everybody knows in the music business that isn’t a fart, it’s auto tune – and whenever someone does fart, some suck-up says, Name That Tune.
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