The poststructuralists were right about the extent to which our language constricts our discourse. It is a dull instrument that could easily be used as a weapon.
Periodically I watch the top 20 of the pop charts. I get to be amazed that Ne-Yo and Flo-rida are topping the charts. It's as if there wasn't music coming out of our ears. Good music. Great music. Music that can fuel your mood, set your course.
Instead one synthesised blob of gloop followed another, leavened only by white girls with piano backing. Adele is classically good and the way she finished the song jerking back a tear was emotionally revivifying. Likewise Christina Perri brings a satisfying mainstream sass to a thought often expressed in endearing indie-er circumstances.
As with the charts through the ages, we become overly thankful for a song that is that is more soulful than cynical, that grasps a universal emotion rather than one concocted in a meth/od lab. Who wouldn't want Snoop's job? Less is more, more or less. It's just I can see the nudity and bling and product endorsement; the hustling on each other's fame. It's not appealing or particularly promising at speaking out to thoughts ne'er so well expressed. Repetitive shite is a choice, so is strong narrative, clever wordplay, an intricate rhythm, a tune you can hum.