Plastic Singers And The Fools Who Create Them

Take a look at this would you?

Some may call it cute. Others a new renaissance in what is capable with modern technology. I, on the other hand, opt for a different word set.

This shit is scary.

We're at a very interesting apex point in the social pangs of our musical development. The power of technology has acted as the great equalizer, putting the common man face to face with the tigers of business. The record industry is slowly beginning to realize that they are indeed, the legion of doom. The age old tactics of strong arming the artist and squeezing every possible cent out of selling other people's wares has lost it's efficacy in this day and age. The masses have seen the potential, and the dark guerrilla tactics that the record industry will employ to cease it.

And we have seen that the power of determined people actually has the fortitude to win a war against overpriced lawyers and the demons they represent. It's the closest we've come to winning a battle in a long time.

The artist has the opportunity to control where and what his music does, and never has to sell off more than he wants to. The music listener can be selective in what they hear, and where they hear it. No more Pepsi-endorsed, so-called music stations squeezing the latest thing between pop sensationalism and bad reality. The fruits of revolution are indeed sweet.

And we can thank the advances in computers and what it's made the internet into for our success. But be warned, the very technology that once liberated can now become a tool of the enemy.

In recent skirmishes, legitimate, blood and sweat artists have long been trampled on, in favor of pretty women who had no business being in front of a microphone. "Boss, the girl with the big breasts can't sing in key. No qualms there sonny-boy, we can fix it all in the mix." Fantastic, high memory applications that can take any fool's voice, and make it sound tolerable. Squeeze in some sonic beeps and bloops, one can cut a record in a single afternoon. Short skirts and sleazy publishers will do the job of selling it.

And now, with an application like this, the basic ability to even sing is no longer necessary. "Let the computer do it," they will say, "it'll sound better and give us less attitude. " Entire catalogs of artists a few clicks away, all within reach. These fools are crazy enough to do it.

Need a face to go along with all that plastic? Just pick them up off the street. Find some vixen with huge mammaries and a short attention span to lip sync to your creation. If she looks great, no one will ever notice her lips rarely move.

"You contemptible bastard," you may scream, "there's no way something like that could be successful in this day and age." Ah, you poor naive soul. It's been been happening this whole time. Pick any music station and watch for twelve minutes. These people are making money. Certainly not from me. And not from you, my loyal readers, for I have no doubt you have quality tastes. But somebody is buying it. A lot of somebodies.

And these somebodies have no regard for things like purity and honesty. A well-dressed, positively perky lip syncing gelatin mold can ultimately be successful. Ashlee Simpson has driven that point home quite well. Caught lip syncing on a national program should have surmounted into sheer destruction and exile. And yet, to this day, her needs for plastic surgery get far more press than all the talented musicians on Myspace combined. It is clear that even from a wounded state, the industry still exerts great power.

Artist and fan alike, take a good look at this. This may soon be the new enemy. This may be what we need to overcome next.