Clearly, the empowerment of women has been necessary and beneficial as an important remedy to a lasting social dilemma: gender inequality.
Especially in the last 30 years, resulting from the advancement and pursuit of feminism, women have more earning potential and more corporate muscle. More jobs are available. More careers are non-traditional.
Even if these phenomena have occurred only in developed, economically potent countries, truly, the world has seen significant improvement. This is great. I am glad women have more power. Don't get me wrong.
But, when did men -- specifically male musicians -- turn into such dependent, mopey wimps?
Somehow, despite having millions of fans, immeasurable wealth and being in a band for a living, some of our favorite male pop stars can't let go of the fact that they were made fun of in high school, or that they've been cheated, dumped or unrequited. It's tragic, really.
Pop music has been/is flooded with a bunch of sissies singing about pain and loss and other clich+â-¬d sentimentality, and I can't stand it.
With some musicians, all of this is forgivable: Old blues hounds, any of The Beatles. Maybe even Neil Young. These artists had charisma; they were storytellers. That's what made them legendary.
And I can't blame sensitive singer-songwriters like James Taylor or Cat Stevens. I know this trend is not their fault. It was the 70s and everyone was upset. Still, from what I understand, they were content enough from time to time to write a song reflecting that. How nice.
Sure, these artists' lyrics weren't spectacular. For some reason, like sincerity or talent, you tend not to mind so much. Or, maybe because they were written before people like me spent every minute criticizing their "artistic merit" and "emotional value." Anyway.
My assertion is that modern artists should know better. I know everyone suffers through bouts of depression and even "longing" (I hate that word). I know people love sincere, honest music. And, I know I don't have to listen. But I don't know why anyone would want to listen to this awful, high school poetry bellowed over distorted power chords.
As a theme, sadness is not enough to fill an entire album's worth of lyrics. Most humans have at least several emotions. Still, Rob Thomas of Matchbox 20 tries. I don't know why. Maybe a beautiful girl left a stain on all his good days. Maybe he has a disease.
Maybe after "Mad Season," we got it. He's been hurt. Tough luck.
Don't let people fool you: Poor Rob isn't storytelling; he's complaining. This is not sincerity. He's recycling emotion, and so is most everyone else. Who can identify with this? How could any music fan stand to listen to a grown man pout like 17-year-old on Zoloft?
Guys, if you're sad because your woman left or never called or made out with someone else: 1) Break up with her. 2) Write one song with an acoustic guitar and make it the last track on the album (and maybe one or two more as filler. But, that's it). Oh, and 3) Get over it.
Seriously. If our women can fight for centuries for the ability to own property or to secure their voting rights, certainly, men can write a happy song. That's all I ask.
Write to Allyn at aswest@bsu.edu**2&+â-+{?west 4.16.03DNEditorial**2SORT+â-¦+â-ä2AUDT
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