Thursday, 28 August 2014

MTV VMAs: The Place Where Music Comes to Die

WARNING: This entry contains material that can be offensive for pretty much anyone, so, if you believe you can be offended by anything at all, please, go away now.

'Music's not dead - we're still in the process of killing it'
 "So it's that time of year again, when a channel that hasn't played a music video in about 15 yrs. has a music video awards show."
This tweet posted by basetendencies - a twitter account dedicated to the adoration of Twiggy Ramirez that I, of course, follow - on Sunday night summed it all up quite well.

Once again, VMA time has come and gone, and, as usual, nothing has happened. Like nothing at all. Because who could possibly even give a shit.

I wasn't even planning to watch the VMAs this year, but my curiosity for the disastrous state of pop culture finally overcame my rock ghetto instinct of self-protection and I ended up staying awake till 5 am (it's not like I don't usually stay awake till 5 am LOL) watching the whole thing with variying dregrees of interest.

Since Spanish MTV got virtually killed = confined to some pay TV channel last year (not a great loss), I had to rely entirely on the live stream provided by MTV's website... which turned out to be all for the better. Obviously, MTV doesn't live stream the actual ceremony (even though they display the footage in a small window on the corner of the screen with limted audio), but they do provide red carpet and backstage coverage for the whole ceremony, which, for me, was more than enough. This is actually the first thing I've seen MTV do right since I can remember, so kudos to them for that.

Getting to watch this stuff, in fact, was way more interesting than sitting through the whole sleep-inducing ceremony, and not getting to fully see (and hear) the performances and idiotic stunt-speeches was more a blessing than a loss. Even when the show gets boring as fuck (wich is most of the time), there's always something going on somewhere else; hundreds of people walking down the backstage corridors; crew members doing something (I was amused to see they had a crew guy down there who looked every bit like Steve Aoki LOL).

The live stream also offered an extended insight on what was going on at the front rows, which was beyond fascinating. It gave me the chance of experiencing the immense awkwardness of attending the VMAs first hand, and it even allowed me to see a tiny hint of humanity behind all those celebrity heads I keep trying so hard to understand.

Sitting in the audience at the VMAs is one of the most psychologically exhausting occupations ever. You never know when you are gonna be filmed, so you have to be self-conscious all the time; you can't stop acting, not even for a second. Yes, ladies and gentlemen: celebrities at the VMAs are ALWAYS acting. Whether they look bitter or bored or they seem to be having the time of their lives, it's ALL fake. And that's really hard to pull off. Imagine, having to sit there for more than two hours, forcing yourself to laugh or look bitchy (depending on your role), pretending to joke and have conversations with people you've never seen before and you don't give a shit aboug and singing along and dancing to songs you've just learnt and probably hate.

It's really weird how all the celebrities in attendance are forced to pretend they know each other and act like they are all friends, even though that's materially impossible... and unnecessary. All of a sudden, you see Sam Smith (WHO?) pretending to be friends with the Kardashians (???) or Rita Ora and Gwen Stefani exchanging hugs and laughing, like they don't want to kill each other. They all have to change seats constantly, making sure they all get photographed together in the most unlikely combinations.

I can't even imagine how stressful all that shit has to be.



The extended red carpet coverage also provided an insight on how ugly and unglamourous all red carpets and photocalls really are.

Most times, a red carpet is little more than a bunch of barriers placed at the entrance of a venue that's usually located in the middle of some ugly industrial complex, surrounded by a noisy crowd that, in the case with MTV, is made up entirely of professional fans instructed to squeal hysterically at anything that moves (they even got their own soundcheck before the celebrities started walking in, to make sure they were squealing in tune).


Celebrities are just lost puppies in the middle of a highway jammed with unstylish handlers and crew members. They are moved around like dolls, instructed on where to stand and for how long; they're told to smile, to turn around, which parts of their anatomy to put on display, depending on the commercial interests of their sponsor-owners... defnitely not a lifestyle I could envy, but they all seem to be thrilled about it for whatever reason.

Good for them.

Of course, making my way through the red carpet wasn't that easy because of the overall reigning chaos and the lack of proper indications... which was a real problem, since I had no fucking clue who most of those people were.

As usual, the musical (watch me laugh as I type this) crowd was dilluded by models, actresses, TV presenters, reality show starlets and all other representatives of the celebrity circus who don't even have to pretend to be singers to put on designer costumes (including the designers themselves)... which is what this whole awards thing is all about.

No Jersey Shore in sight, though. I'm impressed.


Obviously, Kim Kardashian (along with some of her fellow Ks) had to be there there, even though she didn't really seem to know why (Yeezus didn't even bother to come along) or care much about it. Being, as she is, something close to the most famous woman in the planet, it surprised me how little fuzz was generated around her presence. She walked in like everyone else, introduced Sam Smith's performance trying hard to repress her 'who the fuck is Sam Smith?' impulse (who the fuck is Sam Smith, by the way?) and then sat with the other Ks like none of it was a big deal.

No big deal indeed.

I won't even bother on commenting on how grotesque her appearance was, because that should be overwhelmingly obvious to anyone who's not blind. Same thing about Demi Lovato's cleavage... and those of so many others.



Rita Ora was a living wardrobe malfunction in a ridiculous red dress that looked like it was just a random piece of cheap cloth, poorly secured around her body with a tiny safety pin. I laughed so hard watching her struggling to keep her brief garment in place, engulfed in a fierce fight with the merciless California wind. This situation forced her to keep her hand on her crotch at all times, in an attempt to keep her modesty covered.

Man, that was hilarious.



The most hilarious malfunction of the evening, however, was Ke$ha - sorry, Kesha -, one of the latest broken toys of the hit industry. She was there in representation of a new talent show she was confined to after the industry declared her obsolete. Her hair was dyed in a washed-out rainbow hue (which, despite being very Californian, felt a bit odd) and her face looked weird and unrecognizable *again*... probably a side-effect of her latest trip to the filler injection clinic.

But the really funny thing about her were the intricate logistics of her dress: every time she wanted to make a step forwards, her long skirt had to be lifted up to her knees by two or three assistants, who then proceeded to walk her (I mean literaly walk her) to the next position. Oh, man. That was one hell of a show.

Unfortunately, the answer to why Kesha seemed to be unable to walk on her own is way beyond my intellectual abilities.



Taylor Swift wore a ridiculous jumpsuit that exposed half her buttocks when she walked, even though nobody seemed to mind. She also performed her brand new single, which is exactly as irrelevant and idiotic as her previous Doctor Luke and Shellback-driven songs . The former country singer has now completely embraced her role of europop diva, and she seems pretty happy about it... and so is the industry.



Pedophile icon Ariana Grande walked the red carpet wearing the sluttiest outfit I've seen in my entire life. It was so unacceptably indecent it made my skin crawl, and believe me when I say I rarely get scandalized about anything. That same costume would have been pretty harmless, if only she didn't look like a five year old girl with heavy make-up who has successfully disguised herself as a sex worker for Halloween. Ariana is perfectly aware of this, and she always does her best to play the sexy lolita, much to the delight of the perverted middle-aged managers, producers and execs ('perverted producers' - what a redundant concept LOL) who have ever had the pleasure of working with her.


I had my chance to enjoy her best lolita posing during one of the performances (the VIP seat cam was on her for the entire song). She was sitting on the first row, next to none other than her her God-manager, the Biebermeister, Psy-maker Scooter Braun. Of course, to everyone else who doesn't know the man, Scooter was just 'some guy'. His name wasn't mentioned anywhere, because the truly powerful guys are always invisible... unless they command otherwise.

But there he was, in all his glory, and I'll save the rest of my opinion to myself because writing it down would get me sued by the ADL.

Unfortuntately, stills from that wonderful moment are impossible to find, since none of this footage made it onto the actual show. Talk about the important guys being invisible...


Ariana, of course, kept throwing side-glances to the camera, whispering in Scooter's ear and naughtily playing with her hair, like good lolitas do. She had to touch her goddamn hair every five fucking seconds!!! Her attitude was so phony and arrogant it drove me out of my mind.

What a disgustingly self-consious bitch.

The amount of bitchiness that girl exhudes is only comparable to Taylor Swift. They should get them sitting together next time.


Amber Rose (does she have an occupation of some sort?) channeled Rose McGowan's iconic 1998 VMA look quite accurately, except for the fact that Rose was more naked, thinner (even though still quite curvy), and that Wiz Khalifa is definitely not Marilyn Manson. I guess going to an awards show almost completely naked has to feel a little less awkward when the guy next to you is covered head to toe in multicoloured animal print and has his face painted like a geisha. Not a look I picture on Wiz, who, quoting Celebitchy, just rolled out of bed and grabbed the nearest white t-shirt for the occasion. His look was light years away from his 2012 dandy ensemble, which, if you ask me, would have fit Amber's wardrobe choice much better than this lazy normcore thing. The two were so criminally mismatched they ruined any effect they could have caused.

Way to go, folks. Way to go.



Katy Perry was paying a bizarre tribute to the infamous all-denim mtching outfits Birtney Spears and Justin Timberlake wore to the AMAs back in 2001, accompanied by Riff Raff – this sort of white rapper guy who still lives in the Age of Kid Rock (at least, that gives his impersonation some sort of retro credibility) who has apparently been designated to play Katy Perry's boyfriend for a while... or whatever.


Wardrobe nostalgia seemed to be a recurring theme at these year's VMAs, which is probably another symptom of the fact that even MTV is starting to realize that the stupid shit they came up with ten years ago was still better than the stupid shit they don't come up with nowadays. Not that they care much, though.

Even Chris Brown's pre-VMA shooting party - oops, I mean party shooting - was a remake of a pre-VMA party Kanye West hosted in 2005.

I was honestly hoping that Chris would bring some of his shooter pals with him to the ceremony, but unfortunately, it didn't happen. That woud have been one hell of a stunt, if you ask me. Great way to spice up a dull awards show.


...just as dull as the brand new boring Nicki Minaj. Now that her industry-imposed Gagaisms have gone out of trend, she is finally free to fully embrace her natural hoodrat register. She no longer has to tell all that bullshit about how her Harajuku Barbie alter ego saved her life when she was a kid, or go everywhere wearing ridiculous wigs and crazy costumes, or pull weird cartoonish faces when she poses. Now she can fully concetrate on shooting sexy looks at the camera and invest her heart and soul into the exploitation of the racial stereotypes white people always get criticised for perpetuating... not that she didn't do that before.




Her solo Anaconda performance featured a nice amount of twerking, but it obviously failed to generate even a hundredth part of the scandal caused last year by Miley's twerkatorium, and the alleged wardrobe malfunction she suffered during Bang Bang (her collaborative single with Ariana Grande and Jessie J) wasn't even funny. 



Gwen Stefani, my all time favourite guerrilla marketer, turned up at the ceremony, much to my surprise. Just like Kesha Rose, she probably owes her presence there to her new job as a mentor (or thatever they call that shit) on The Voice, and she also used the chance to promote her clothing brand by wearing a Barbie-chic pink and black two-piece suit she allegedly designed a few years ago. Not great. Unfortunately, she didn't bring post-grunger husband Gavin Rossdale with her (even though he's employed on the talent show as well). Guess we'll have to wait till their next family outing.


Oh, and Snoop Dogg was also there too for some reason. Whatever.


Not less surprising was the presence of Wacklemore Macklemore's indie LGBT promise of two years ago, Mary Lambert. I remember her happy face last year when she signed a contract with Capitol Records (you have to be retarded to smile while getting signed to a major label LOL). Her career is still waiting for takeoff.



Re-emerging from her career coma and wrapped in a curtain she presumably lifted from her grandma's home, Jessie J made her appearance on the red carpet, proud as ever. Apparently, she's been given a second chance (in America!) by some mysterious industry godfather. She's been featured in a song that includes Nicki Minaj and Ariana Grande, and also doubles as a Beats by Dre commercial. That's the type of shit the industry does these days. Not that anyone cares much anyway.


Professional elevator fighter Solange sported what turned out to be the most decent outfit of the entire evening (thank you, dear), even though the reason behind her presence at the event was unclear. She was probably just sent over as an integral part of the Beyoncé-and-Jay-Z-are-divorcing-not-divorcing-who-could-possibly-even-give-a-shit drama. Who could possibly even give a shit.


Jordin Sparks and Jason Derülo (who knew they were a couple? Oh, wait a minute... who CARES?) did their best to channel Kimye (I swear to God I thought it was them when they first walked onto the red carpet)... even though her derriere is still far from being Kardashian size. 



Notably absent from the ceremony was the formerly ever-present Pharrell. It seems like his ride on the industry hype roller coaster is finally over. Now it's turn for him to sit back and wait till his mysterious industry godfathers allow him to take another go... if that ever happens.

Enjoy your descent to the abyss of post-hype irrelevance, Pharrell. Say hello to Bruno Mars whenever you get there.



Also on the down side of the hype curve, Miley Cyrus had to play a very uncomfortable role at this year's VMAs. It has to be tough to return to the scene of the Robin Thicke (RIP)-driven twerking scandal that turned you into one of the most talked-about people on the planet for a couple of weeks one year later, when the industry hype machine is no longer working for you, knowing that you won't be on the spotlight and will have to sit back and pretend to be shocked by someone else's stunts. In my opinion, it would have been wiser to just skip the ceremony, but naturally there was no way she could do that, because Terry Richardson had bought her himself an award for Video of the Year and somebody had to come and pick it up.

So, Miley put on a pair of extremely unflattering trash bag pants and an equally unflattering trash bag bandeau (everyone was wearing those goddamn things), tried to adopt her best 'I don't give a fuck' face, and humbly walked the red carpet with the stoical resignation of the precocious has-beens. It's not like she hasn't been there before.

In an attempt to make her appearance look less uninspired and grab some media attention while proving she is now a mature and sensible person, she accessorized herself with a mysterious young man who, we would later learn, was a representative of the homeless youth of America.


'That guy's a homeless?!' you'll ask yourself. Oh, yes - you're just getting it wrong. When you think about homeless as a concept, you probably picutre some old bum with long hair and a crazy unattended beard, dressed in dirty rags, smelling of booze and yelling incoherent stuff at passers-by. That certainly might be the way most homeless people look in the Western world, but this guy in not just any homeless guy - he's an LA homeless guy, and that's a completely different breed.

Every year, thousands of young men and women leave their homes following the neo-liberal (=neo-totalitary) slogans of fame and success, tirelessly dictated by the worldwide media, and find themselves in LA, with no place to go and no means of sustenance. They have to pay their cosmetic surgery and designer clothes by selling their bodies on the sordid streets of Hollywood, and sleep in the cars of minor industry agents in an attempt to get access to Bryan Singer's pool and, hopefully, land a minor role in some movie, TV show, advert, or just anything that will get them in front of a camera. That's one very tough life they have there. All my sympathy goes to them.

Kerli and Brian Ziff would most definitely show support for Miley's cause. 'There's a way out. guys. We just haven't found it yet.'
In a weird VMA plot twist, Miley sent her newfound best friend to collect her Terry Richardson's (a man who many of these young homeless LA people dream to get abused by) award, and perched herself on the side of the stage, putting her best acting skills to use (we already had a preview of that in her Wrecking Ball video) as she pretended to cry tears of deep emotion while her homeless buddy told the tragic story of his life, looking every bit as though he had spent all of it speaking in front of a camera.

There's no way Bryan Singer won't let him in now.

Another Hollywood happy end.

'This is just so touching'
The idea of sending a charity emissary to collect Terry Richardson's award, by the way, was also a remake of something Marlon Brando did at the Oscars in 1973, when he sent an Native American activist to speak in his place as a protest for the misrepresentation of Native Americans on film and television... with the difference that he actually rejected the award (even though he's still listed as its recipient). Can you reject an award and still win it? Kurt Cobain's dream come true. 

Continuing with my list of faded stars, I was extremely surprised to find Nick Jonas (from the defunct Jonas Brothers) sitting in the audience next to his miss girlfriend. His inexplicable presence seems to have been widely ignored by the media, which, on the other hand, is pretty understandable.  


Ah... what is life?

Wir sind'ne boygroup und gecasted sind wir auch
Und nächsten sommer lösen wir uns wieder auf
In vier klein träume an deiner wand
Und am nächsten morgen hast du die poster schon verbrannt
Und die nächsten in der hand

The life cycle of a boy band, as summed up by Tokio Hotel (so unfairly confined to the boy band cell), who sadly prophetized their own demise at the early age of fifteen: "We are a boy band picked by casting / And next summer we will split / In four small dreams hanging on your wall / And next morning you will have already burnt all the posters / With the next ones waiting in your hand".

It's been nine years since THEY (and not the bunch of creepy pedophiles who stole their autorship) wrote that song, and yet we're seeing it happening all over again.

Now that One Direction's glory days are officially over, there's already a new boy band (at least one new boy band) out there ready to take their place in the hearts of hte teenage girls who used to worship them. That boy band is 5 Seconds Of Summer (not to be confused with 30 Seconds To Mars or Eliott Sumner LOL), some sort of disgusting crossover between (obviously) 1D and a washed-out teenage version of Green Day. Unlike most other boy bands, these guys pretend to play actual instruments (Jonas Brothers style), and even try to display some sort of punk attitude, which makes the whole thing even worse. But that's not what (stupid) teenage girls think. These guys are currently enjoying a ride at the top of the industry hype wave, and their fan rate is sky high (believe me, I have reliable sources).

Ah...
When will the world listen to reason?
I have a feeling it'll be a long time

You were so right, The Offspring. You were so right.


Oh, and did anyone miss Lady Gaga?

Exactly. You've just made my point.



In general terms, this year's VMAs seemed to be more in line with previous editions, a nice change after the industry fireworks (or should I say Pharrellworks?) of last year. Something weird happened in the industry in 2013. For some reason, the Uni-Label (or should I say the fashion conglomerates?) seemed to have plenty of money to invest in a serious number of ambitious über-hyped releases: Timberlake, Daft Punk, Miley Cyrus, Robin Thicke (all strangely united by Pharrell), Eminem, Jay-Z (both strangely united by Rick Rubin), Beyoncé and, at a smaller scale, Katy Perry, Lady Gaga and Britney Spears. That was quite a lot of stuff, compared to the drought of previous years, and the 2013 VMAs (celebrated in the heart of Jay-Z kingdom a.k.a. Brooklyn) were a faithful reflection of that.

Fortunately for all us industry haters, this trend of relaunching established brands supported by huge sponsor-driven media hypes is apparently over, and the mainstream music market seems to have returned to the usual stagnation.

Thank God.

Once again, labels are relying on the cheapest form of promoting their artists: not doing it at all. They target their releases directly to their fan bases and don't even bother on buying them media presence - that's a job for the outside sponsors anyway. How many people out there ever heard of Iggy Azalea? How many people know the name of Ariana Grande's latest album? How many people give a shit about Nicki Minaj or Jessie J returning to the spotlight?

Nope.

Even Ed Sheeran, whose new album seemed to be aiming for a major scale promo campaign, has been quietly sitting in a corner for months, humming to himself or something. Guess he didn't choose the best time to jump on the Pharrell bandwagon.


The total lack of high profile releases in 2014 is best evidenced by Sam Smith.

Who the fuck is Sam Smith? Exactly: nobody even cares. Only on such a weak year for the industry could his presence have been so central to the event.

Let's pray for many more to come.


At this point, MTV awards have become so infinitely random and irrelevant that I don't even bother trying to learn who won what because who could possibly even give a shit. The categories are stupid, and the nominees are pretty much the same in all of them, so you know that, eventually, they'll all walk out with something. Or not. Or who could possibly even give a shit.

I only know that Katy Perry won the award for Best Female Video for her collaborative single with Juicy J (who the fuck is Juicy J and why the fuck is he not collaborating with Jessie J NOW?), and I'm quite surprised to see nobody really made fun at the fact that that technically made him the co-recipient of the Best Female Video award (or at least it should, since collaborative singles now count as chart entries for ALL the parties involved, my guess is it should be the same thing with awards, right?). Just another evidence of how stupid all these categories are.


I was much more surprised, though, to see people's outrage at Lorde's Royals winning in the Best Rock Video category (because MTV doesn't even bother on trying to pretend they care to take any actual rock bands in consideration, and I'm personally quite pleased with that). Turns out people still expect something from rock music, after all? Like they still consider, despite what Sell Out Boy says, that rock music does require some guitars in it? I can't even believe it. This could give me some renewed hope in humanity... if I hadn't promised myself I'll never ever ever allow myself to have hope in humanity again.

E V I L Lorde is back y'all
Of course, this also proves that people NEVER ever ever look at the charts, because, if they did, they would have known that Lorde has been charting on the Billboard rock chart ALL THIS FUCKING TIME, along with many other things that can by no means be considered rock either... like Birdy. But, apparently, people don't give a shit about Billboard these days, and that's good. Very good.

It's also curious to see how angry people are at this victory, compared to how little they seemed to care about Lorde performing with the original Nirvana line-up at their Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame induction ceremony. I personally find that to be much worse than winning an insignifficant MTV award, especially since Krist Novoselic and Dave Grohl pretty much validated her as a rock musician by covering her Royals single in the case of the former and by publicly praising her in the case of the latter (then again, we're talking about Dave Grohl). I'm still waiting for them to rush to their young friend's defense. They don't seem to be in a hurry, though... probably because they know that the audience has already forgotten that RRHOF ever happened.

Apparently, people don't give much of a shit about Nirvana being inducted into the hall either. That makes me sad and happy at the same time.

Guess I have a case of Kurt Cobain's dilemma.


The performances are not even worth commenting on. They were all exactly much the same as always: the same unoriginal idiotic pop songs, the same ridiculous dances, the same awlful live vocals helped by backing tapes nobody even tries to conceal anymore. 

90% of the artists to perfom turned out to be females (because Sam Smith doesn't really count as male, does he? Oh, wait a minute... who the fuck is Sam Smith?). There's nothing really relevant about that... it's just a random statistic.

In fact, the only real male to perform (because boy bands don't count as males either, do they?) was Usher, who put up a really boring performance I didn't pay much attention to. Nicki Minaj got on stage with him at some point for whatever reason, and I think he slapped her generous derriere, but nobody seems to be scandalized about it, so I guess they weren't perpetuating black racial stereotypes or anything like that.

He also grabbed a bass for a while, because everybody loves an electric guitar... as long as it's not plugged in.



Tell that to newcomer electro-popper Charli XCX, who performed at the pre-show backed by a three piece band (with a real drum kit and all! LMAO), or the good old Maroon 5.


They don't even have them in their new songs, but they still hold on to their guitars like it's the end of the world. They had a specially built stage in a parking lot outside the VMA venue, and we were unfortunate enough to witness a couple of their songs near the end of the show. Their live sound has always been terrible, and it's worsened a lot (even) since they've started playing their new shitty Doctor Luke material, which, like all hit songs, is written in the key of Auto-Tune - a range of sounds that's phisically impossible to replicate for humans.



Not only was the show short on gender diversity, but it was also pretty uniform in terms of musical genre. EDM (in the form of hit-maker DJs), rap (I mean the 2012 horrifyingly bleeped-out Lil Wayne perfomance style, because Iggy Azalea and Nicki Minaj don't really count as rap) and rock/pseudo-rock were all out of the list, leaving room only for classic R&B and generic pop... and boy bands. Personally, I see all this as yet another sign of the Apocalypse for the mainstream music industry. Their old formulas don't seem to be working too well, and they are not coming up with anything new.

Let's just hope they will maintain this dynamic.


Naturally, no VMA show would be complete without a few interludes of not-funny African American comedians making not-funny Kanye West jokes only other African Americans can understand... or not even. During these interludes, all the celebrities in attendance have to pretend to be amused and mildly outraged at the same time while the guy pokes fun at them, which is always fun to see, especially because, most of the time, they don't even seem to understand what the guy is actually saying. I don't blame them, though.

Thanks to the MTV backstage streaming, however, I didn't have to sit through that stuff, and instead had the chance to see Kim K's efforts to put up a bitchy face during a Kimye joke. For once, she managed to play the part.

Congratulations.



Jennifer Lopez was on camera 50% of the time during the whole show, and I'm not even sure about why. She was sitting in the first row, in one of those typical barely-there dresses (something like a silver trikini with an attached pareo), throwing superiority looks and behaving like she was the boss. Weird shit... but MTV knows better.

I think there was some stunt going on, involving her boyfriend/ex-boyfriend Casper Smart, but I didn't really get it. Because who could possibly even give a shit.


But aside from all this frivolous irrelevant shit, MTV kept trying to prove that they can also use their broadcast time for deep and meaningful purposes.

Rapper Common pronounced a heartfelt speech involving the racial riots in Ferguson and hip-hop's power as a 'tool of social change'. I can personally only see its power as a massive tool of difusion of a materialistic and sexist ghetto culture built around the one and only objective of achieving stereotypical milestones of success - mostly in the form of cash and bitches - in order to demonstrate one's superiority to others, that's deeply pro-system in its core and helps a great deal to validate the same neo-liberal myths of fame and success that get thousands of young kids to bend over at Bryan Singer's pool parties every day... as well as an excuse for the music industry to lower the cost and quality of mainstream pop music to unprecedented levels (mostly thanks to its simplistic and anti-creative sample-based nature - which makes it perfectly suitable for chain production) and a great channel for the promotion of all sorts of criminal activities.

But hey... I'm probably just a racist white bitch who perpetuates negative racial stereotypes, with no respect for or understanding of black culture, so don't mind my words.

'Hip-hop has definitely brought social change to my bank account'
There was also a tribute to Robin Williams squeezed somewhere in there... I didn't even notice LOL Apparently, it was a 23 second slideshow of pictures of the deceased actor with some Coldplay song playing in the background. Poor Robin... what did he do to deserve this? I mean, dude... a Coldplay song. Ugh.

The main subject of the night, however, was the cult of the Almighty Arse (which seems to be a disturbing new music and fashion industry trend). There were SO MANY generous female butts on display at the ceremony, in every possible state of dress and undress, it was really hard not to develop some sort of mysoginistic buttock-phobia.To Beyoncé, that shit might be the epitome of female emporwerment. I'd be more thrilled to see her husband shaking around in bulge-enhancing ballet dancer tights though. Oh, wait a minute... I definitely wouldn't.


I can't even say much about Beyoncé's show-closing extravaganza because I kept going in and out of sleep while watching it... pretty much like I did last year during Justin Timberlake's medley. It was SO FUCKING BORING. I hadn't even felt sleepy before before she walked on stage, but, as soon as her songs started to play, my brain shut itself down instantly, and I didn't recover until next morning. I opened my eyes once, and there were some boring pictures of her baby daughter projected on the screen (like WHO CARES); I opened my eyes again, and she was recreating her Partition video number; I opened my eyes once more, and she had FEMINIST written on the screen behind her for some reason; I opened my eyes one last time, and she was accepting her Video Vanguard Award and kissing Jay-Z. All boring like fucking hell. Even the audience was bored, and they didn't even try to hide it, aside from the occasional attempt at dancing and singing along when they were explicitly instucted to.

If Beyoncé and Justin Timberlake are the future legacy artists of my generation, then fuck my generation. Gangbang style. 





On this night of musical desolation, I kept myself sane by reciting the lyrics to Steel Panther's Death To All But Metal as a source of spiritual peace:

 Fuck the Goo Goo Dolls, they can suck my balls
They look like the dorks that hang out at the mall
 Eminem can suck it, so can Dr. Dre
They can suck each other, just because they're gay

They can suck a dick, they can lick a sack
Everybody shout, "Heavy metal's back!"

Death to all but metal
Death to all but metal
Death to all but metal

Death to Papa Roach, Blink 182
All those fucking pussies sounds like doggy-doo
Wearing baggy pants, spiking up their hair
They're not worth the crust on my underwear

Where is Def Leppard? Where is Mötley Crüe?
Why do all my lyrics sound like Dr. Seuss?

Death to all but metal
Death to all but metal
Death to all but metal

Kill those fucking fuckheads who program MTV
They can suck my ass with all the record companies

Death to Britney Spears, kill the little slut
Kill Madonna too and then fuck her in the butt
Fuck Mariah Carey, death to Sheryl Crow
They can kiss each other on their camel toe

50 Cent's a fag, so is Kanye West
Shooting hot sperm on each others' chest

Death to all but metal
Death to all but metal
Death to all but metal 

God bless you, Steel Panther, and thank you for writing the punkest song of the last decade.

The mental image of 50 Cent and Kanye will never go away.


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PS. Note how I've managed to keep this post 100% Alice free (well, 99% if you consider the EVIL Lorde artwork). Doesn't that get me an award for that or something? LOL

Since it doesn't, I'm gonna break the statistic and pay a little homage to Layne Staley - who would have turned 47 last Friday (the same day my fake Facebook self turned 27, based on a fake birthdate I selected at random four years ago - talk about weird shit LOL) if he was still alive - by remembering the time when MTV was a little more than a musical trashbin. Enjoy the contrast and let the Weltschmerz sink in.

 

Yes, this happened on MTV. Actually.



RIP, Layne. You haven't missed much.

Oh, and greetings from Jerry Cantrell's moonman.



Friday, 18 July 2014

RIP Johnny Winter


Around this time yesterday, I came across the cover of Johnny Winter's 1973 Still Alive And Well album while browsing through some of my drafts for this blog, and I smiled thinking about good old Johnny and the fact that he had decided to call his album that way. Apparently, God was willing to prove once again that he does indeed have a really sick sense of humour, because, at the time I was reflecting on the album's title, that affirmation was no longer true.

Johnny Winter had died just a few hours earlier in his Swiss hotel room, only two days after playing his last show. At 70, he was still touring, and he went doing just that, like every musician should.

The cause of his death has not yet been revealed, so right now it's impossible to tell if it was just old age or if there were some other factors involved. He had struggled with substance abuse (like pretty much everyone) in the past, in the form of alcohol and prescription drugs - the Bluesman's Cocktail. Even that he had in common with Jerry Cantrell, and knowing it fascinates me and terrifies me at the same time.


It's hard to find the right words to say when somebody dies, expecially when you have known them for so little time. You have just discovered their existence and, all of a sudden, you have to get used to them not being around anymore. It makes everything seem a twisted, calculated joke of fortune; it leaves you feeling a hollow sadness you don't quite know what to do with.

So you just keep going, trying to honor their existence by making the best of your own.

And, at least, you can find some comfort in the idea that they did that too.

70 years might not be the longest life, but it's quite a lot if you see it from the perspective of Johnny's blues buddy Jimi Hendrix... and he dedicated all of it to the thing he loved most. He started playing in a band with his brother when he was just 10 years old; he made his first record at 15, in a time when 15-year-old musicians didn't necessarily get raped and murdered by the music industry, and went on to release about 20 studio albums... which is not too bad.


Johnny Winter was a legend; a living relic from the golden age of rock music, and, every time a musician of his size dies, a piece of that era is gone forever. He left a hole nobody else can fill, and, as hard as you try to prevent the depressing thoughts from taking over, you can't stop yourself from feeling like real musicians are an endangered species, bound to disappear after the last exemplars are gone.

And then is when you start feeling depressed as fuck... again.




 I feel so alone
Gonna end up a big old pile of them bones

Jerry Cantrell said it all.

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Rest in peace, Johnny Winter. You've earned it.

Now it's time for us to try to keep your spirit alive.

Tuesday, 15 July 2014

Midnight Sunset

Joensuu, Finland. July 13, 2014.
See that thing in the background?

That's right - it's a sunset. There's nothing special about it, if you overlook the date and location of this picture.

But we don't overlook anything in here.

So, when do you get to see a sunset in Finland at this time of the year? Somewhere around 12.15 am, probably - right after you've finished your 75 minute headlining set at Ilosaari Rock festival.

If you excuse me, I'm gonna cuddle up in bed and cry.

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Guess someone's still bitter about the 40 minute set Sabbath squeezed their 'special guests' into? Well, you're guessing it right. 

...or you would, if I had taken the time to sit and write down about my adventures in Essen - which I still haven't done, mostly because I'm a lazy piece of shit.

But here's one little spoiler I just gave you.

The European summer festival tour is almost (if not already) over for Alice, and, after another Canadian leg they have left, touring for this album should be over as well. It seems like I won't be able to catch them at a proper show on this tour, after all (guess it's too late for a rushed-up trip to Canada? LMAO), so the only thing I've got left is hoping that the next album they release will be every bit just as awesome as Dinosaurs (which is rather probable)... and that they'll still play Phantom Limb, Hollow, Stone and Voices on their next tour (which is not so probable).

It can't take more than two or three years anyway (don't think they'll be staying off the road all that time, though - they'll probably keep coming back for the festival season, like all bands do)... not a big deal LOL

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Anyway, Essen was still worth the trip - I won't deny that.

In a curious plot twist of fortune, I happened to stumble upon this on my Facebook timeline precisely this morning:

'Danke Schön Essen'
'Danke schön Essen'... how sweet is that?

It totally melted my heart away, and even made me forget about my Sabbath-related bitterness... for a couple of minutes.

I know it's obviously not the actual band doing it, but it's still a nice gesture in their name, and I really appreciate that :)

It's also nice to see that the arena looked much less empty from stage than it did from where I was sitting - takes one demoralizing factor off LOL

Unfortunately, my section got cropped off the picture. If it hadn't, you'd probably be seeing my huge red cowboy hat from here LMAO

You can still see the cheerful weather, though... :'D




 +    +    +

Thank you, guys.

I really hope to see you again sometime... in more favourable circumstances :)

Monday, 23 June 2014

Stone


What. The. Fuck.

This might seem some sort of weird internet hoax, but it actually happened. Today. And you can read the full story here.

Apparently, the guy wanted to get a funny picture, and I guess he finally got one.

Germany - 1
USA - 0

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Somewhere in Deutschland, Till Lindemann and his Rammstein buddies are laughing their asses off and thanking this guy in advance for provding them with a concept for their next album: a crossover between their 2009 Pussy and Alice In Chains' 2013 Stone, very much in the line of Madonna's upcoming single Unapologetic Bitch [sic].




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Anyway, I'm glad I saw this on time. Now I know I have to be especially careful with these next week... just in case they have more of them around the country LOL


Wouldn't like to end up trapped in a piece of 'cold, dry Stone' ;)


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"Detach the rock of shame!"

"Attach the rock of TRIUMPH!"

I'm going to Germany :D



PS. While writing this post, I accidentally stumbled upon this in my pictures folder and it totally creeped me out.


I'll make sure to leave those at home... just in case.

Tuesday, 17 June 2014

Vinyl Dreams, Endless Questions


I had one of my strange awakenings today. 

I woke up around 9.30 and, for a while, I somehow didn't feel the need to fall asleep again. Instinctively, I reached for my phone, just to see what the outside world had to offer.

After discovering that a Japanese S&M clothing store I followed on Twitter a couple of days ago (don't ask) had decided to follow me back for whatever reason (LOL), I went on to chek out my Instagram account. To my surprise, somebody had liked the picture I took of my then brand new copy of The Devil Put Dinosaurs Here - that's right: the one with the Baby Jesus I posted on this same blog about a million years ago.


Not a million years, actually, but 19 weeks: the exact amount of time that has passed since this CD first landed in my hands. Ironically and unknowingly, the stranger had chosen a very special day to perform his virtual interaction, and I'm glad he did, because if it wasn't for him, I would have definitely missed the occasion. It's been exactly five months since the day I first sat down and listened to this very album; five months since I realized I had become a fan of Alice, and my love for the band has only grown exponentially during this time.

It's hard to believe how long and how short these five months feel. In some ways, it still seems like it all happened just yesterday. But then, when I look back at all the things I've learnt and all the (countless) hours I've spent listening to their records and realize I've only been a fan of this band for five fucking months, all I can say is: 'Jesus Christ!' LOL

Alice is the first IMPORTANT band I've ever discovered through streaming, and I guess that explains some of it. Never before had I acquired such a deep knowledge of a band's body of work in so little time. With all the other bands, it took so much longer to complete the picture... You only got to see one piece of the puzzle, one record at a time, till you finally had all of them and could fill the gaps. There was fun in that, I won't deny it. But what happened with Alice (mostly thanks to the impossibility of playing un-shuffled albums on Spotify mobile LOL) was that I had a clear vision of the big picture almost since day one. I feel like I've known all these records for a lifetime now, which is still mindblowing; I can talk to people who have been fans of this band for years without feeling retarded, and they never even suspect how much of a newbie I am LOL

I guess this just proves what an awesome tool streaming can be. If only teenagers used it to expand their non-existent musical culture instead of just doing whatever the fuck they do with it... oh man.

But they don't even have a reason to do that, because music isn't worth shit today, thanks to twenty-five years of consolidation and 'container over content' politics.

In this apocalyptic context, I obviously had to find out who had unearthed my ancient picture, and why.

The like came from an account named metalvinyls. Unsurprisingly, it seemed to belong to a vinyl collector with a predilection for heavy metal records, whose avatar I happened to recognize as the cover of Daniel Buhszpan's The Encyclopedia of Heavy Metal - a book I have proudly read from A to Z B)

Not his avatar, but actually my copy of the book ;)
The reason he had stumbled across my picture became clear as soon as I saw his last two pictures, introduced by the following (and curious) caption:

"So this picture is part one of two awesome picture disks I got today at HMV. This is of course from Alice in Chains's album The Devil Put Dinosaurs Here. Now I know they aren't exactly metal. But rock/hard rock non the less and I couldn't pass up showing off these records! #aliceinchains #thedevilputdinosaurshere #picturedisk #colouredvinyl #vinyl #vinyljunkie #part1 #nowspinning #rock #hardrock"
Photo: metalvinyls
"I know they aren't exactly metal". This sentence sounded really funny to me, and it led me to ask my first trascendental question of the day: why is Alice In Chains generaly labeled as a 'hard rock' band while Black Sabbath is universally aknowledged as a 'heavy metal' band? 

Don't get me wrong - I don't have much appretiation for the 'heavy metal' tag. In fact, I'm glad Alice don't have to deal with it because I know, from my long experience as a Metallica fan, how limitating it can be, but it just makes no sense to me that two bands as essentially similar as Alice and Sabbath happen to be separated by this Berlin Wall of genres.

I first noticed this when I came across LoudWire's '10 Best Rock Albums of 2013' list. I was very pleased to see Dinosaurs on the top spot (where it belongs), but I was equally surprised that they had apparently overlooked Black Sabbath's 13. Had they forgotten about its existence, or did they just consider it was so bad it didn't even deserve to make the top 10? LOL

But of course, they hadn't forgotten about Black Sabbath - how could they? It turned out 13 was on number 5, after all... of their '10 Best Metal Albums of 2013' list, squeezed between Dream Theater and Deafheaven (whothefuck???), just a few spots away from Motörhead (don't think Lemmy would approve being in the 'metal' list either *cough*). 

I found that so mindblowingly absurd it hadn't even occurred to me that those two albums belonged in two different lists. Hollow and Phantom Limb are actually heavier than anything on 13; Alice's Dirt abum is more aggressive than any Sabbath record... But they're still not a metal band. And Sabbath are.

Because... yeah.

Photo: metalvinyls
I didn't, however, let that question distract me from what I was seeing: Dinosaurs on picture disc... 'like what the fuck is that?' It took a few seconds for my drowsy brain to figure out it was (obviously) the limited edition picture disc vinyl release of the Dinosaurs album. 

It comes in two parts because it's so fucking massive you can't just squeeze it into a single disc. The album is split in FOUR sides, with three tracks on each... which obviously doubles its price. If they had to do this with Dinosaurs, I wonder how they would have handled the vinyl release of Jerry Cantrell's 2 hour 20 minute-long (!) Degradation Trip Volumes 1&2. Would it come in some sort of weird vinyl box set or something? Unfortunately for vinyl die-hards (or fortunately for their pockets), it seems it never got a vinyl release, so I guess we'll never know LOL

But that's not the point.

As I kept looking at these pictures, it started to dawn on me just how solid vinyl records really look. It's not like I didn't know it; I just had forgotten the feeling. At those early hours of the morning, however, the idea suddenly seemed so tempting...

I browsed through his gallery for a while, looking at what else he had. There wasn't much I could relate to musically, but I couldn't keep myself from appreciating his love for collecting only the flashiest picture discs known to mankind... Tons of beautiful records from bands I couldn't care less about. I wasn't that impressed by the different albums' cover art as I was by the thousands of weird things you can do with the disc surface. And man, I have to admit the idea was making me drool.


And the more I thought about it, the more I started to enjoy the idea of holding a BIG vinyl record in your hands, looking at the BIG cover art, touching its surface and feeling the grooves...

I have been a notable vinyl skeptic for a while, especially since the format became trendy again in the last few years, mostly because I saw it as a hipster thing, and as an industy trap to sell us the same records AGAIN at a much more expensive price, after making sure we tossed our pre-CD vinyl collection into the trashbin, discarded as obsolete.I still believe that, because most of it is true, but I also know that, being the rock and roll dinosaur I am, it's just a question of time before I fall in the arms of the ancient format.

Being a kid raised in the age of CD and far away from the family vinyl collection I had to leave behind in Siberia, I never really got to have a first-hand vinyl experience, and, to a certain degree, that's something I miss.

The audio quality of LPs is universally aknowleged to be notably better than that of CDs. Like my friend Ducky (who is an avid vinyl collector herself) pointed out in a post she wrote regarding her vinyl collecting hobby, LPs have an incomparably wider frequency range, which makes the difference between the two formats something you experience with your body rather than something you can discern by hearing. I can't confirm it due to my aforementioned lack of first-hand experience, but I'm pretty sure it's true.

...Just like I'm pretty sure that all the glorious records from the 70s, like Queen II (especially Queen II) or the Ozzy era Black Sabbath albums, to name just very few, never really recovered from the conversion to CD, no matter how many remasters they've been through. Vinyl is probably the only legitimate way of listening to those records, and that's something I have to live with.
 
Queen II in beautiful vinyl

And I'm gonna live with it for quite a while still, because there are way too many things pushing me away from vinyl collecting right now.

First of all, vinyl players are expensive as fuck.

Second: both the player and the records need space, and I mean they require TONS of space I totally don't have. I already have trouble organizing my CDs, so I can't even imagine what it would be like to deal with HUGE vinyl records.

Third: LPs cost three to six times as much as CDs (I'm not counting overpriced new CD releases), and that's when they're not diabolic double LPs like Dinosaurs LOL

Collecting vinyl is such a bottomless money pit I don't even want to think about it until I have my own stable (and abundant) source of income.

Everyone is entitled to a 'rich bastard' hobbie. I guess collcting vinyl is gonna be mine. But I still have to be a rich bastard first.Until then, the only vinyls in my collection will be my decorative exemplar of Hotel California and a tiny bunch of Queen singles I inherited.

Amazing Hotel California vinyl release. Not mine, but a similar one.
Another thing that makes me cautious about vinyl collecting is that it really is a collector's affair. When you're a vinyl collector (and you only buy vinyl when you're a vinyl collector these days), you don't just walk in the store and buy whatever you find; you're supposed to know exactly what you want to buy, because there are so many different versions of everything, and limited editions and all sorts of weird shit to drive you crazy and suck the money out of your hands like a goddamn vacuum cleaner. I have to admit that perspective makes me pretty scared. But then again, I guess that when you're a rich bastard you have the time to dig deep into your rich bastard hobbie, and you're not afraid of how much it's gonna cost, so I guess I'll just worry about that later.

The worst thing about developing an interest in vinyl records, however, is having to deal the those bitchy little people known as 'audiophiles' a.k.a. the purists of sound mixing.

You know I'm a huge lover of great music, and I love writing and talking about it (as you can see LOL), but hearing audiophiles speak just makes me want to chew my own head off. Because being an audiophile is not about being a 'lover' of recorded sound; being an audiophile actually means you can NEVER enjoy ANYTHING that's recorded, because nothing is ever good enough for your exquisite hearing.

While looking for some extra information on the Dinosaurs picture disc, I accidentally came across this review, which suddenly reminded me why I should NEVER read reviews of things I like LOL
 
First of all, the guy says some things about Alice that are extremely inaccurate.

He says Black Gives Way To Blue was a poppier album than Dinosaurs, which just makes me wonder if he accidentally swapped the albums without knowing. He says Dinosaurs is 'a return to the bleak and the sorrowful' as opposed to the 'happy' tunes on Black Gives Way To Blue. REALLY, BRO? Dinosaurs features a record number of huge life-affirming anthems that don't have a single 'bleak' or 'sorrowful' thing about them; in fact, no other Alice album has SUCH an amount of happy tunes, and definitely NOT Black Gives Way To Blue
 
He lists Stone, Choke and Scalpel as 'downer songs' along with Hollow, which also proves he has a rather curious perspective on life. Stone is a heavy tune, sure as Hell, but I wouldn't refer to it as 'downer', especially if Hollow is your most immediate reference of what a 'downer' song is. Choke is an epic mid-tempo Dire Straits-friendly ballad and Scalpel is a pretty happy country song that has nothing dark about it, aside from the title. Seriously: what the fuck was this guy listening to?

He also says that the band hasn't changed its sound since 1992, which would make me violently spit my drink out on his face... if only I had a drink.

But then my favourite part comes: loudness war and the never-ending audiophile rant.

Audio compression/loudness war is a subject that has fascinated me for years, because of how concerned all the purists of sound mixing seem to be about it. Obviously, the guy complains about Dinosaurs being as hyper-compressed as every other modern record, which is not entirely untrue. But the thing about audiophiles and loudness war is that, even if my brain knows they are surely right, my biker fist refuses to let them win.

I might start buying into their anti-loudness war campaing the day I finally hear a coherent explanation of why all the producers and sound engineers in the world seem to be conspiring to systematically over-compress every record that hits the shelves, but they all keep failing to provide me with one. The author of this review (ironically?) puts it down to the fact that mixers and producers are 'stupid, bad people', but that's not a big deal of a convincing argument (even if it's true that most producers are, indeed, BAD people).

But really: what's the point of 'loudness war'? 

Highly compressed records are supposed to be notably louder than not-so-compressed records... and yet I need to kick the volume of my players really high when I'm listening to Dinosaurs or Black Gives Way To Blue, because they don't really sound that loud.

Loudness war is also supposed to give songs some sort of 'advantage' on radio stations, but I haven't noticed that either. In fact, the mix of Hollow that reached the waves on local music TV over here was so quiet it was barely inaudible, so I can't really see it. Plus, when you pick Hollow as the first single from your new album, I don't think radio airplay is a priority. It's not like somebody was hoping it would land a spot between Avicii and Calvin Harris on top 40 radio, right? LOL

Making hyper-comopressed records is not cheaper and I don't think it's easier either. I don't see how it can boost record sales, but it can obviously push audiophiles away from buying them, so I really don't see what kind of secret benefit lies in there for the music industry.

The only (über-twisted) theory that kind of makes sense is that Ted Jensen (the guy who single-handedly masters every record in the planet) is deliberately fucking up the audio quality of CDs in order to force the audiophiles to buy vinyl, since they seem to be the only ones who care. And then, he fucks up vinyl records too, in order to make them buy better vinyl. Because that's another thing I've learnt from this review:
 
When you're used to listening to CDs, you assume that anything that comes on a vinyl has to sound good. Turns out you're wrong, because, apparently, even in the world of LPs there are ways mean sound engineers can fuck things up. Judging from what this guy says, picture discs sound awful too, so you can't even have beautifully-looking vinyls if you want to enjoy the REAL sound. Jesus Christ.

The only thing I don't understand is why he decided to buy the picture disc in the first place, if he already knew it would sound like shit.
 
He also complains about the quality of the red plastic sleeve and pretty much everything else he could possible complain about.
 
For a few seconds, he even made me feel guilty for feeling attracted to the picture discs in the first place, but then I just looked at myself and said: 'Fuck you!'

I think the problem about audiophiles is that they listen to the sound so much they forget to listen to the music. And, even if I can partly understand their concern for how records sound, their obsession of 'GOOD SOUND' borderlines on OCD.

Would I like to have a clearer mix of Dinosaurs? Sure.

Does that prevent me from enjoying the record? Nope.

But, given how inaccurate our critic is in all the musical aspects, I guess it does stop him from hearing what's really there. And that's a real problem.

So, kids, if you start becoming too obsessed with sound, just kick the volume up till you're too fucking deaf to care about your audio-shit.

You'll live happier.
 
 
And now, if you excuse me, I'm off to bed, to dream of evil dinosaurs and shitty-sounding picture discs.

Guess I'll never be one of them audiophiles ;)

Monday, 2 June 2014

Windows H8


Welcome to Windows 8: The OS that hates you as much as you hate it.

Don't get fooled by the poisonous colours and the user-friendly appearance: Windows 8 does hate you with every bit of its soul, and it's willing to go to any length to prove it. It hates you for the very fact you exist. It hates you for not thinking forward. And, especially, it hates you for buying a stationary PC instead of a tablet, because that's what this is all about, right? Selling motherfucking tablets.

I don't know if Microsoft has achieved its objectives in that field, but it definitely succeeded at pushing people away from buying stationary computers and into the arms of Apple. If that was what they wanted, congratulations - you really did a fantastic job, guys... just like Myspace did pushing away all the bands it had left with its brilliant revamp.

Windows 8, in fact, has a lot in common with the New Myspace.

With both, you find yourself struggling to navigate through an extremely unintuitive and confusing interface, trying to figure out where to go and what to do. Less than five minutes into any of the two, you'll be desperately talking to the computer screen, asking: 'Can I do anything, PLEASE?'

The answer is 'no, you can't'.

In both cases, all you're allowed to do is admire the flawless simplicity of the advanced interface design and feel grateful for living in this era of technological progress, all while allowing yourself to be spoon-fed with corporate-driven contents and generously sharing your personal data. Living in the future never felt so good, heh?

Now serioursly, it's phisically impossible for you to not enjoy Windows 8's sophisticated design: four of every five toddlers enquired stated that it was the best design they had ever seen; the fifth did not provide an answer because he was distracted sucking his thumb or taking a nap.

The statistics speak for themselves.

On the picture below, you can see the chief design officer at Microsoft immersed in the process of developing the intricate concept behind the groundbreaking Windows 8 interface:


Groundbreaking, indeed... in the most literal sense of the word, since it literaly breaks the ground you're used to standing on to pieces; to gigantic, flat, acid-coloured squares, in fact. It tears down the very idea of Windows (the really revolutionary design that both Microsoft and Apple bought from Xerox 1000 years ago and have been championing ever since); it shreds the multidimensional desktop space to unidimensional tiles; it shits on the very concept of multi-tasking; rules PCs out as obsolete.

Try to complain, they'll dismiss you as an analogic dinosaur and a desktop die-hard.

'You have to think forward' they'll tell you. 'Mobile devices are the future. You have to compromise.'

Well, mobile devices might be the future, but we are living in the goddamn present, where my PC still does stuff your tablets can't do. Babies are also the future, and yet that doesn't mean adults should start wearing diapers in order to advance.

Tablets and smartphones need optimitzed software precisely because of the limitations derived from their mobile condition. It makes sense for them to run simplified versions of programs and have a touch-friendly interface, but what's the sense of forcing that into a stationary computer that's potent enough to run NORMAL programs and doesn't even have a fucking touch screen in the first place? It's just as stupid as taking a guy from college and putting him back into kindergarten to play with blocks and learn the alphabet, because compromise

That's exactly the way the PC user is bound to feel when first introduced to Windows 8: like an adult sitting in a preschool classroom.

History books say that prisoners in concentration camps were forced to eat using their hands in order to strip them from their human condition. Well, as friviolous as this comparison might seem, one can't help feeling that Microsoft really thinks that, by making you click on gigantic multicoloured buttons and read texts written in humiliatingly orversized fonts, you too will end up believing you're too retarted to be treated like an adult.

If you've ever come across the Windows 8 calcultator app, you'll understand my point.

The visually impaired will most probably be thrilled about this new feature. For those of us who still have a 20/20 vision, however, clicking on numbers the size of a chihuahua head in a mandatory full-screen setting feels a bit humiliating.



But don't worry, PC user: you'll get used to this, just like you got used to everything else. Your indestructible faith in progress will help you adapt to the new world Miscrosoft has so lovingly crafted for you.

And, if you ever feel in doubt, you just have to look at your WWWD bracelet and ask yourself: 'What would will.i.am do?'

Probably, this:



It's obvious that will.i.am has been living inside the Windows 8 interface for quite some time. Very literaly. You can tell that from the design of his latest album cover:


That's most definitely what he would call 'Future Hunting'.

I, personally, still need therapy after trying to get along with the new OS for just one day. I have nightmares about it, and wake up from my dreams feeling raped by Microsoft.

Not funny.

Not funny at all.

So let will.i.am do the #FutureHunting;  I'm calling a computer tech in hopes he can return me to the comfort of Windows 7.

I can have no peace till I get this cancer out of my sistem.

Very literaly.