"Hi, I'm a dumbass ... "

With the demise of Michael Jackson, there’s been a renewed look at the world of pop music, particularly back to a time when it was, well, relevant.  You remember – back when people had to actually sing, and didn’t have machines to clean up their sketchy voices and producers to surround them with so much noise that you can’t tell anyway?

That’s certainly not the case today.  For every solid singer who makes it to the big stage today – whether the hard way or the quick (read: AI) way – there’s a dozen performers who are cashing checks based on nothing more than image.  Leading the way is the queen of Yonkers, NY, Lady Gaga, who’s modern spin on electronic synth-pop is all over the charts these days.  I enjoy a decent dance tune as much as the next guy, but to hear her stuff you quickly realize the talent is the guy producing the tunes – her voice is just one more synthesized instrument to mix into the tune.  And to look at her … well, I just dare you!

Now, I don’t have anything against New York, or New Yorkers – although they do make me chuckle from time to time – but I do have an issue with anyone who tries to pass themselves off as “cutting edge” or “next wave” when in fact they’re just trend trash. That’s certainly the case with Gaga, who has convinced herself – and her fans – that somehow, she represents fashion and risk and the future, and anyone who doesn’t get it just doesn’t understand.  Count me among those who don’t understand, but that could be because I’m too busy doubled over in laughter to consider the cultural impact of her idiotic views.  I’ll give her credit, though, at least her latest getup covers most of her face, and her ass isn’t even hanging out.

To look at her is to consider her silly, but to listen to her is to recognize the basic delusion of it all.  Take this quote of hers from the latest issue of Esquire:

My concerts are about me being very private in public, but I’m very protective. My apartment is my stage, and my bedroom is my stage—they’re just not stages you’re allowed to see. When you let a bunch of people in there, they f*** with that energy and it becomes a circus. Put it another way: Everybody wants me to show my vagina to the world all the time. And the truth is, I don’t have to.

What the hell?  The pretentiousness of it all.  Look, it’s not like she’s the first person to play the ridiculous card all the way to fortune and fame. Pop music and reality TV are littered with the carcasses of her predecessors, bled dry and tossed aside, and I certainly expect her to be on the pile sooner rather than later.  Who knows – maybe she can follow in the footsteps of MC Hammer and burn out as a pop star and a reality star – now there’s something for her to aspire to!