Thursday, June 25, 2009

The Rise of Douche-core (Temporary Term Until I Come Up with Something Better)

America has an infatuation with people of the lowest common denominator. We revel in the trash tabloid antics of reality TV stars, go nuts over books and blogs dealing with insufferable, extremely ego-maniacal specimens of humanity and just can't wait until these people actually end up recording albums.
The number 1 dream of most kids is to be a pop-star (I was willing to split it about dead even with movie star but since most movie stars desperatley want to shit out a record I think my final assertion is correct) and for many who find fame via a leaked sex tape, an E! tv series or even YouTube stars this is the desired goal of all their self-inflicted humilation and vicious public dissection of personality. While their music always fucking sucked at least you knew they had to suffer somewhat before their dreams were finally crushed and they were thrown back to the confines of the Vh1 meat grinder. Now, we have bands that have bypassed that whole scene and are exploding into mainstream consciousness with some of the most dull, horrid and bafflingly popular music. It's like these people went into an A & R dickhead's office and pitched themselves and the music was tailored to fit their extra vinegary scent of failure.
Welcome to Douche-Core, people. Whereas it would make sense for some dumb cunt with big fake tits like Heidi from the Hills to drop an album (in logical terms it actually doesn't. There is no way in hell anyone should let that bitch within ten feet of even a karaoke machine. But, because these wasted souls are such attention whores looking to exploit the Us Weekly readers and gossip hounds for as much cash as possible they have to offer as much product as possible before they move on to the next pop-culture car crash) the fact that Asher Roth, Brokencyde and ThreeOh3! have shat thier wretchedness onto wax and the internet signals a new low in the human race. Not only because these bands exist but because people are eagerly wallowing in their output. Hey, I wouldn't be talking about these fucking twats unless they had made enough of a ripple to make in my radar via work (oh yeah, the popped collar crowd goes nuts for Asher and Three while the Hot Topic poodle-core kids can't get enough of Brokencyde) or random shit talking on music blogs.
When I tell friends about just how fucking appalling this shit is they immediately accuse me of self-righteous hyperbole. Well, here is Exhibit fucking A: Brokencyde:

Wow. There is so much wrong there I don't know where to begin. The Flock of Seagulls haircuts? The preponderance of hot pink and 80's day-glo attire? The bored looking skanks? The insanely disgusting misogny? Oh wait, these are aesthetic complaints and I'm here to bitch about the music exclusively. Okay. WHO THE FUCK THOUGHT ANYTHING IN THIS WAS A GOOD IDEA? It's like the beat was ripped from one of those clubs you find New Jersey guido's with orange tan and rock hard spiked hair trying to date rape some shore chicks. Let's ignore the auto-tuner because that shit has been beat into the ground and it's understandable for a bunch of white, suburban New Mexico dorks to worship and mimic anything Kanye West does but the screamo shit? YYYYYOOOOOOOOOOOW! Really? I guarantee you the band meeting when they decided to include that garbage (maybe at a later date we can imagine the one where the decided to have the mascot from Piggly Wiggly in the band) went something like this:
Poodle-core Brah #1: Brah, man that beat is so tight and yo like my rhymes about bitches and shit gettin' messay and not wantin' them dykes around cuz they fuck with my penis flow are DA BOMB but we just sound like every otha whitey shorty (high pitched voice) PLAYA PLAYA out in the game and deez streets. We gotsta set ourselves apart and pay respect that yo-core shit that is our ROOTZ, DAWG!
Poodle-core Brah #2: For reelz, homie. We be whack without something for dem hoes at Visible Changes who hooked us up with this fly dye-job and feathered spikes to get wet over. They always be clocking my shit when I'm shopping for fresh lime green and hot pink duds at da Hot Topic. Wait, that's it son! We gon do that screamin' shit like those bands they play in the store! You spits that hot fiyah and I'll go YOOOOOOOOOOW! after the verse and we'll get like all dem suburban shorties panties MOIST, PLAYA!
Poodle-core Brah #1: DAAAAAAMN! That is some smart shit son! Dad, yo pops! You bankrollin' dis here piece so what you think?
Poodle-Core Brah #1's Dad who is financing his fuck up child's retarded musical endeavor: Well son, it is always good to cross promote yourself and to diversify you're musical style so that it can attract as wide a crowd as possible.
(Poodle-core Brah's stare at each other like Stephen Hawking just delivered a speech on physics)
Poodle-core Brah #1: Soooooo? You'll still front us the cake, pops?
Dad: (sighs) Yes, Bradley. (flips the kid his check book then retreats to his bedroom to swallow a shotgun)
Now we get MTV whoring this bile out and don't the kids just love it. All three of these talentless (sorry, I expended all of my hatred on Brokencyde and do not want to suffer through Asher Roth or ThreeOH3! again) assholes are gaining in popularity and duping a generation who was weaned on Limp Bizkit into further musical idiocy. It's bands and fads like this that really make me glad the record industry is almost fucking dead.

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