Simon has graciously pointed out that a good writer has made her timely reappearance after her earlier online manifestations vanished months ago.
Her short-but-sour decade roundup, ultimately to include ten songs (a gesture kind in its brevity but frustrating; I would rather have a long list from a a disaffected writer than have to depend on this one, in which 180 records are listed for the sole purpose of buttressing the self-serving enshrinement of facile hype [aka the top 20] into History, for insight into what happened and to see if there is anything worthwhile that I might have missed), includes this paragraph, which quite ably summarizes the way I feel, and would render my own forthcoming "decade in music" essay redundant if it weren't for the lack of foolishly complex sentences such as this, which are surely entertaining to my readers (the long multi-sectioned sentence below is much more artfully written):
A lot went wrong and my own sorry generation are largely culpable. Smug, lazy and intellectually self-satisfied; historically uneducated and therefore fixated on superficial understandings and re-stagings of the past; unwilling to risk seriousness, or rather, mistaking creative conservatism and po-faced self-absorption for seriousness; lacking sex, glamour, rage, resentment, a death drive, or anything vaguely fucking resembling a reason to make a mark upon the world – you, my peers, are possibly the most boring lot of Westerners since those born ‘tween the World Wars grew themselves up on Patty Boone and Georgia Gibbs.
No comments:
Post a Comment