There’s a silent war being waged against creative hard music. Driving tempos are being replaced by comatose adagios. Rawness is giving way to repose. Folk is the new metal.
I may seem melodramatic, but underground rock is truly taking the edge off. It’s becoming lackadaisical—lobotomized by simplicity. Aggressive sub-genres are getting forced into anger management.
So many talented bands are disintegrating. And so many other bands are changing. Or as I look at it, devolving.
Yet there are other off shoots of underground rock that are thriving, nourished by bands that play music antagonistic to the kind that I love and write about. Music that doesn’t push the envelope—or push much of anything.
For every Taken that goes into oblivion, a new Tilly and the Wall gets its wings.
Should we really need to argue the artistic merit of Glassjaw versus Head Automatica?
It’s unbelievable. I feel like a renegade in a crowd of hipster conformists. My kind dwindles as each day passes, folding under the pressure of obnoxious condescension.
Are we a bunch of children? Clamoring to sing-along to silliness? I’ve had enough of the keyboards, clapping, and cavorting. If I wanted to get into a trance, I’d listen to more trance.
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