Dear Spotify,
Congratulations on becoming an all-consuming evil entity, you’re in good company. As much as I thrive on fucking things over, and I do, artists are not those kinds of things. You may not know that I consider the creative process a sacred gift. In hell I build altars for musicians and worship like any slave. So, though you may think you are in bed with the devil, alas, you aren’t.
Your species has, in your muddle headed, thoughtless way, created a new demi-god, so to speak. Technically, you have made a new type of being. A sexless, constantly vigilant and belligerent, quite mindless new entity. What will we call him? She has so many limbs, throbbing sex organs of all kinds, but they’re frowned upon by the rest of her. He has the will and the drive to go somewhere but nowhere to go. No thoughts at all, in fact. All of the hormones your kind are prone to, all the vices, no scruples to speak of, raised on nothing, no parents, or kin. Let’s just call it they to make it simpler.
No. Too confusing. I’m going to stick with him for the size and measure of his balls. Know that he could just as easily be a she, but I have enough shes in my life. I will picture him as the village idiot. Whom you have elected for life. He disturbs me because he carries a new kind of corruption, one that doesn’t pass through my hands.
Such a being should be caged, chained, fed a good dinner with a nice wine, then smothered in his sleep. Well, in a humane world. But your creation can only be destroyed by you, and from what I can see you’re getting comfortable and spreading your legs for him.
This I like. None of you are afraid of your dark side anymore, you have found a place to take it off leash. Some of you make an excellent living with it. Which brings me back to Spotify, only one among many, but as a user, (you need to be told what to listen to), I am entitled to make my opinion known.
I think I can speak for the planet when I say that the spoken word does not belong in music. If you can’t say what you want to say with lyrics you should not be writing songs. I could admit that the first time was mildly amusing, but it would be a lie. Spoken word is its own genre, you abuse both when you force them together. And you keep doing it. Though it’s trite and pointless, it leads us away from the melody, it looks like you’re desperate for ideas, it looks like you’re building a mansion for a guy who sounds like Jeremy Irons. Enough already.
Spotify, if you must have mighty overlordship, powers beyond your desert, use them now for good. Forbid it entirely.
Then find a way to make sure your artists get paid. What would we do without them?
”Woken Furies” by Gunship Thank you Jeremy, but we don’t need you.