Still Mourning The Music Industry? Don't!


What remains of the "music industry" these days has more in common with the San Fernando porn industry than anything related to the actual making and selling of music. In their infinite wisdom, the major labels have all but removed both consumers and artists from the equation.

Imagine, if you will, a boardroom where rich, powerful music executives declare almost daily, and with zero irony, "If only we could somehow eliminate consumers from the equation and not have to deal with musicians or songwriters, we'd have it made."

The industry got its wish, of course, as today's stars resemble nameless random strippers wooed from the smarmy clutches of Jumbo's Clown Room (the actual name of an L.A. strip club) to the smarmier and just a little more evil clutches of UniSonyscope Music Group. Thing is, they still don't care enough to even find a decent stripper to market their wares. Sorry, but you labels can do a whole lot better than Katy Gaga and Rihanna Pancake.

If that sounds harsh, thank you. The truth is, this is a cruel business for wanna-be's with no measurable talent to call their own. Just ask Ke$ha. She wanted to be a rock star so bad that she did things no talented person should have to do to catch a break and now she has buyer's remorse. That's not to say Dr. Luke isn't a handsy perv.

See what I mean about the music biz having more in common with the porn biz?

Many an article has been written about the fall of the music industry, each illustrating where the biz went wrong and how they could be having it so much better if only they weren't such self-important assholes every single step of the way, but what if this is exactly how they want it?

I mean, I can't personally imagine that being the case because, you know, logic and all, but these are no longer logical times, my friend. We live in a burgeoning Bizarro World full of hucksters and con artists who, in the past, might have enjoyed a brief day in the sun before receding into the dark depths from which they come, never to return, but now these vapid shells of human detritus are enjoying long-term careers and being awarded lifetime achievement awards.

And for what, spending three decades creating music nobody can remember? Reducing the fine art of music promotion to a series of orchestrated wardrobe malfunctions and punch outs at the Waffle House? Why sell songs people will still be buying 30 years down the road when you can rip them off now with three minutes of tuneless profanity over a sliced-up dial tone?

Much like Country Western, which has been ejected from its own home by a gaggle of Stepford wives and Joe Plumber hand models, the music biz has been co-opted by pretenders. And I don't mean the good pretenders, either. I'm talking about people who have literally failed at every other thing they've ever tried in their life but find themselves a meteoric success in the already shark-infested waters of "The Music Biz".

The funniest part, of course, is that THEY wanna be the rock stars now. All you need to do is watch one episode of "Empire" to realize how the music biz sees itself: an industry of constant drama and murderous desperation where the executives are front and center and the artists aren't even worthy of use as props.

"Vinyl" is one of those fancy "historical dramas" that doesn't even bother to get the facts straight, that's how much they care about the music or the artists. No, please show more of that drug-addicted record guy! In all fairness, Bobby Cannavale has been one of our favorites ever since we saw him in "The Station Agent", so don't think we're attacking him.

It's just that the show, which Mick Jagger and Scorcese signed off on, is such an insult to its core audience - PEOPLE WHO FUCKING LOVE MUSIC! There are over three decades of us, so we're not just a fringe audience. We're the people who still pay for music and, yep, also HBO.

Oh sorry, this is about you, the music biz!

AT LAST! You are free of those pesky artists! Now to dispense with the few remaining people still willing to buy re-albums they already own and we will have completely killed our host.

Wait, what? "killed our host"?

It is at this point "The Music Biz" ceases to even pretend to be a business anymore and reveals itself for what it is: a cancer.

Superior St. Rehearsal Facility

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