May. 19th, 2003

ashinae: (Default)
From the May 9th issue of "Entertainment Weekly", which I finally sat down to read:

"'Anyone can sit down and write some boring artistic song,' says Britney Spears. 'Pop music is the hardest s--- to write.' Which is what Britney's hard at work on for her as-yet-untitled fourth album, due this fall. 'The subjects are really out there. It's about general things that teenagers go through that are real but nobody talks about.' (Unlike her new hair color, which is the source of much debate.) 'I really don't think that many people from my core audience will get it,' she says of her new material--including one song in which she raps. 'But I would rather somebody either really love it or really hate it. I don't want anything in between.'"

Um.

Okay, look, hon. There isn't a single song by U2, Jann Arden, Sting, Sarah McLachlan, Blue Rodeo, Bif Naked, Coldplay, Nightwish, Depeche Mode, Erasure, Dido, October Project, Enya or the Corrs that I don't understand. Well, except for the Enya songs that are in a language I genuinely don't understand. Honestly, here. You've put out, what? An album almost every year, maybe every other year, since "...Baby One More Time"? Give me a break. You are not working that hard. The people who are working hard for you are the people who alter your voice, choreograph your dances, and write and perform all the background music. Oh, and let's not forget the people who have written all your other songs.

So, obviously, you are simply not capable of creating the same standard of work that these people are. But can I be frank for a moment? How do you expect real artists to take you seriously, or even to respect you, if all you can do to justify the medocrity of your own work, by insulting theirs? These are people who work for years to put out albums. People who write, and sing, and can play a few different instruments. People who have worked a whole hell of a lot harder than you. People who actually sound the same on their albums as they do when they sing live -- oh, but, wait, you don't do that, do you? My mistake.

It makes me a little angry, you know. Honest-to-god artists, people who fit those first two dictionary definitions -- "One, such as a painter, sculptor, or writer, who is able by virtue of imagination and talent or skill to create works of aesthetic value, especially in the fine arts" and "A person whose work shows exceptional creative ability or skill" -- can't get work. Can't get paid. Don't get the kind of respect they deserve. And people who rise to fame on the hard work of others, get all this fame and recognition. I. Don't. Fucking. Get. It.

And I would like to add that yes, I know what it's like to be up on stage. I know. I've performed in many, many school plays. I played Rosalind in As You Like It, and I'm sorry, but theatre is so much more genuine than what these soda-pop performers do. When you're up there, and you're saying your monologue, and your voice carries to the back of the the theatre without the aid of a microphone, or without it being pre-recorded and all you have to do is move your lips to match the words; when you're wearing a fucking corset, when you don't have flashing lights and throbbing music making up for your lack of talent, it is all. about. you. And the gifts you have. Or perhaps, the gifts you don't have.

* * *


In other random news, I tried to take the pictures for my storyboard for my school portfolio, but halfway through, the battery died. I thought, "Never fear! Will hurry to the mall and get a replacement!" But then I realised, "Oh shit. This is Canada. It's Victoria Day. Nothing's open. Fuckity fuck!" And then I huffed and I puffed and sat down for a good long sulk.

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