You Know, It Ain't Easy

By Travis Lyle a.k.a DJ Hedmekanik
In the grand scheme of things, the shameless promotion of music which has little more substance than a wet tissue shouldn't really get on my tits, does. There's just no getting away from it, for me, at least.
Why huge swathes of people should be so thick as to swallow every last blob of slurry that issues forth from the Commercial Shitfactory without so much as a passing thought to the wildly orginal alternatives out there is beyond me. It's quite obvious we live in a time when the mantra is 'gimme convienience or gimme death', so this should come as no suprise and, as I say, should not get on my tits...but it does. I simply can't understand how people (who are all born equal, last time I checked) can become so dull in their listening habits.
I mean, somebody must be buying Christina Aguilera's drivel. Somebody out there has the Celine Dion boxset. Some dullard with pulp for brains actually LIKES Akon. This is obvious because some dumb fuck is totting up the sales at the offending record company and going down to the nearest radio station, handing over a stack of pestilentially dire CD's and saying 'Oooh - you're going to LOVE these news releases. All the cool kids are playing them on their iPods/MP3 players/phones/PC's, they're really, really good.'
All the while, shit-hot music is languishing in the background, hanging on for dear life as it waits for that rare opportunity to make the leap from independent obscurity to commercial success. And without so much as a hint of support from the manstream structures that offer a viable arena, most of it will rot like a rapist in solitary, and be lost.
Which, I suppose, simply confirms my heartfelt belief that most people are good for only one thing - compost. And even then they may not do such a good job of it, seeing as they're bound to be laden with heavy metals and god-alone-knows-what toxins.
Granted, a lot of truly amazing music makes it into the wider public psyche through the medium of television - in the form of ad tracks. The problem is, unless you've the keen nose of a webhound, you'll not recognise this music, guessed it - it's never featured in full form in any media. So it's good enough to sell a product, but not for radio or our delicate petal-like ears. Which means it'll stay obscure, and the artist will generally waste away on a diet of vodka and promotional chewing gum samples. Which is a crying shame, considering the mind-numbing drivel out there which enables imbeciles with no discernible talent whatsoever to revel in riches. There's no justice.
It ain't easy, I tellya. It ain't.

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