Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom – the dopplered sound of a souped up GTi hurtling down any road anywhere – Eee’d up, trendy sunglasses, and ultimately, a Ben Sherman shirt clad member of the Unofficial War Against Guitars army. A speaker on wheels, heading towards the Judge Jules extravaganza in a sweat-filled dance pit, with similarly eee’d up passengers all listening to sounds akin to the Luftwaffe bombing Coventry. Possibly heading to Coventry. Possibly not.
One “song” (and I use the term loosely) flows into another without any regard for ending the first one. For all I know, it could still be the same song playing at the end of a night that was playing at the beginning. From that GTi, every dance song sounds the same. This ubiquity of dance music is reflected in the ubiquity of the club goers. I am on a mission to find the fucking factory where they breed these people and flatten the fucker with a huge bouncer from hell.
Maybe I don’t understand dance culture – maybe my mind was turned by going to too many raves. Maybe I didn’t do enough drugs. Maybe I don’t like the sound of a fucking car alarm going off whil people dance round it. Maybe I’m just getting old. Maybe it actually is pure shite. Maybe its a conspiracy. Maybe.
Dance music is evil. It is Satan’s spunk gone mouldy in the corner of Hades. It is the serial killer of music. It is annoying. It is more generic than empty space. It’s not big, and it’s not clever. It’s easy to make, and can make you a fucking fortune. While others spend their musical lives pissing in the wind for large parts, you get these musical charlatans hitting drum machines, and letting computers do most of the work and making a million in no time at all. It pisses me off.
Without sounding bitter….well, sounding bitter alot actually….it is a more evil form of musical expression than farting the hits of the seventies through a loudspeaker outside an old peoples home. It is more evil than getting Engelburt Humperdinck to front a death metal band. It is more evil than telling an eight year old boy that santa doesn’t exist…….a week before Christmas.
I hate dance music. Dance music probably hates me, but I don’t care. I don’t need friends like dance music. Meanwhile, it appears that there is more than one of those fucking factories……