phillyharper.com

I’ve just heared a song by “3!OH3″ called “My first kiss (feat Ke$ha)” and was told it isn’t a joke.

I just can’t believe we’ve descended this far. Popular culture has imploded, it has spewed so much irony that everything is dripping in the putrid stench of senselessness. No one knows up from down anymore, is it a joke, is it serious, is it real? It no longer matters, the beat goes on and the DJ’s continue to play it. Maybe they’re as confused as their listeners are. Someone, somewhere, made the decision to put it on the Radio 1 playlist, evidence to confusion that has gripped our psyche and reached even the highest rungs all things pop, the playlist creators at Radio 1.

Pop culture has begun to parody the tiny fringes of alternative culture so much that no one knows what is real any more. Radio 1 DJ’s and T4 presenters genuinely thought The Ting Ting’s were an indie band, they really thought it was real. They didn’t cotton on to the Ting Ting’s being a two-strong “manchester band” in which at least one member, is not from Manchester. They didn’t cotton on when they asked them “who influences your music” and they got a giggle filled awkward response of “I don’t really know”. That was the beginning of the end for pop culture, the moment the Ting Ting’s were allowed to play the John Peel stage to rapturous applause at Glastonbury Festival was the moment the great man himself turned in his grave and the psyche of a generation nosedived into the ether. The Ting Ting’s are to indie what Il Divo are to Opera. Culturally, the shit hit the fan and its repercussions were felt everywhere.

Urban Outfitters, the “coolest” fashion outlet, now sell back mass produced “vintage” clothing to people desperate to escape the dregs of popular culture by being “alternative”. (Look how many inverted commas I had to use to make my point, irony is literally everywhere) But that style of vintage individual clothing was born out of a complete and fundamental rejection of all things mainstream for the very reasons I talked about above. Pioneers of the alternative movement decided to seek refuge in the 60′s, 70′s and 80′s and created their own existentialist meaning in the clothing they decided to wear because there was no meaning anywhere else. There was no alternative culture. That movement is now prepackaged, mass produced and sold on the shelves of Primark to people desperate to get to the next Kesha gig, because SHE is the alternative goddess that will save them from the mainstream shit storm. They’ve got no idea they’re in the belly of the beast munching on irony pie, because no one has a clue any more. Is Katy Perry alternative or is she complete bullshit? No one can tell, not even Radio 1 DJ’s, because ultimately it’s all shit.

The golden days of 90′s brit pop are distant memories, even then sideline critics would have had a thing or two to say about Take That and the Spice Girls but there was something organic and natural about them that is just not present today. Take That wrote the songs themselves, the band served a purpose to screaming teenage girls, it all felt normal. Pop was a kind of music young girls could go with their mothers to watch, and it would be a shared cathartic and aspirational experience.  Today we’ve have the square root of naff all to fill that requirement. N-Dubz, nothing. Kesha, Nothing. JLS, nothing. What we have now are low quality factory produced goods. Meaning lies dead in your iced water, the superficial is the sandwich filler and expect nothing but white chemically induced bread, this party is as about as interesting as smash hits magazine.

Snoop dogg rapped on a Katy Perry record. It’s over. The Ting Ting’s played Glastonbury festival. It’s over. Julian Casablancas of The Strokes recognised the problem and has begun to parody himself. It’s over. McFly, arguably one of the only decent pop bands left, are releasing a dancy grime track. It’s over.

Even those alternative folks, who’s paper thin culture has now been bastardised into pulp by the pop culture machine, have nothing left. They hardly had anything to start with but they had some bands and clothing I suppose. They skipped the “principles” part of creating a culture and just focused on taking drugs and taking pictures of themselves, but if anyone is to blame for the irony invasion, it’s them! This is the level you now have to go to visibly escape the deathly grip of popular culture. You literally have to dress like a total moron to be considered different, because even alt hipsters can’t get their heads round the idea that you can express your interestingness through avenues other than clothing. Superficial nonsense scores another slam dunk.

Finally, I’ll finish with this; Lady GaGa. She makes great pop music and maybe she offers pop a beacon of hope, but look at what she’s had to do with her image to escape the clutches of irony. Everything has been repeated to such an extent that to be new and original she had to go on Jonathan Ross with a telephone on her head. It’s the latest in a long line of batshit insane moves she’s had to make to get us to notice her, (telephone) hats off to her. She’s so different and unique that no one would dare to imitate her, apart from all of these people of course. Oh dear.

We’re at a point, culturally, where we need a rebirth. If pop culture were an etch-a-sketch, we’re now at that point when you think, “what the fuck is that?” and shake the shit out of it to start again. We should start with dropping irony and embracing meaning. Our future will look like a mental institution for the creatively insane if we continue down this path. Consider me off the broken bandwagon.

Rant over.