A few weeks ago I was mindlessly browsing the racks of clothing at Forever 21 when it happened. A Nicki Minaj song came on. The lyrics of which were, “I’m on the floor, floor. I love to dance. So give me more, more, ‘till I can’t stand.”
Poetry.
Now I don’t know about you, but listening to a synthy-dance song about a drunken party girl doesn’t exactly inspire me to purchase trendy, overpriced clothing. So I assumed the song wouldn’t put anyone “in the groove.”
I was wrong. There was a young girl standing with her brother in front of the mirrors by the changing room. They were presumably waiting for their mother to finish trying on clothes, most likely in an attempt to look forever 21. The girl was about 8, maybe 9. And when that Nicki Minaj song screeched across the speakers, she busted out into what can only be described as a colorful dance, all the while smiling at her gyrating reflection in the mirror. My unsuspecting eyeballs were scorched.
I’m not trying to come off as sounding harsh or musically closed minded, and I’m certainly not condemning you if you like Nicki Minaj. Everyone has his or her own taste in music, and a right to that taste. But did you ever stop to think that maybe this taste has lost its flavor? The music industry has been pushing dubstep and mindless pop without feeling for quite some time now. We have become numb to it. We indifferently eat what the industry spoon-feeds us and go along with whatever music is trendy. Music is no longer art, it is entertainment.
Unfortunately, this kind of over-the-top pop star act seems to be the rule, not the exception. Singers like Lady Gaga and Katy Perry have the talent but none of the restraint. They assume a role and become a brand name. The music they make is based more on marketability and less on personal attachment.
There’s something decidedly good about music that has grit. The world we live in is not OK with imperfections. Perhaps that is why auto-tune was invented — why sound like yourself when you can sound better than yourself? So we settle for this polished but often mediocre music. Mindless music can be fun to listen to on occasion, but the basic function of the art form is to serve as a medium for passionate expression.
One Friday I went to a coffee house to see live music. It cost three dollars. The act was a singer/songwriter, with his acoustic guitar slung under his arm. The next hour of my life was spent listening to the tale of this young singer’s heartache and how he had weaved his troubles into melodies. The pain was palpable. This man had a reason to sing. And there was an ache in his voice that night that put the whole music industry to shame.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that there seems to be a lot of artists today that make music for the sake of making music. And yet, there is an abundance of art and feeling and life beyond the prepackaged glitz and sparkle of what our culture pushes at us.
Call me crazy, but maybe the hipster scene got something right: not everything mainstream is worth the time.
