Thursday, April 24, 2008

The five bands that suck the hardest

As an art form on the whole, music is pretty overrated. When I turn on the radio, 97.3 percent of the time a song that I can’t stand is playing on each and every one of the seven stations I have programmed into my Toys-R-Us quality car stereo that doesn’t have a CD player, tape or even 8 track. That’s because my stereo was invented long before 8 tracks, and only one year after the first music – a caveman banging against a cave with a stick – came into being.

I have no reason to get a better car stereo because today’s music hasn’t much surpassed the whole caveman with a stick thing, and while man has been able to invent the nuclear bomb, the aeroplane, the Vanilla Coke and has even been able to trick one each other into thinking we actually landed on the Moon, our race has fallen woefully short in music making. In the entire 10,000 years of human existence, exactly 192 really awesome songs have been made, and I downloaded most of them from Napster when I was in college. All other songs that have been invented range from OK to mediocre to hellspawn three-day-old puke. And there are five bands that lots of people love and worship and spend money on and flash their boobs at that can’t even aspire to making music worthy of being labeled hellspawn three-day-old-puke. And they are…

I do give him props for working his mojo on Courtney Cox in that one music video way back in the day when she wasn’t old and Alex P Keaton was always trying to slip her the Lil’ Overachiever on “Family Ties,” but other than that, Springsteen hasn’t served much of a purpose in life. He has a horrible voice, makes horrible music and will NEVER EVER RETIRE and end his pathetic career. Plus he’s always, always, ALWAYS bitching about something in each and every one of his songs; crying about how blue collar folks have got it rough and how sad life is. People call him the boss, and I think it’s a Freudian slip thing that “boss” spelled backward is “ssob,” the way illiterate Springsteen lovers would spell “sob” if they understood the alphabet.

Some complainers out there might argue that P. Diddy isn’t a band, and thus shouldn’t qualify for the list, but P. Diddy sucks so bad he simulates the cumulative suckiness of five other people, thereby forming an entire band of dumbass-osity.
This is the most unoriginal, uncreative hack to ever have sex with four chicks at the same time (I just KNOW he’s done it… Grrrrr…) All of his songs are nothing but samples of other dumb songs to have come before, mixed in with Diddy doling out his monotone recital of nonsensical lyrics like “Who hot, who not…” which is the most profound thing he’s ever said. He puts the “c” in front of “rap.”

The worst thing P. Diddy ever diddied came after his pimpmaster Notorious BIG died – by the way, the movie “Biggie and Tupac” sort of accuses Diddy of orchestrating the Tupac and BIG murders – and Diddy, then called Puff Daddy, made that song and music video with Mrs. Notorious, “I’ll Be Missing You,” in which you can tell that P. Diddy was definitely trying to get with that. This was purportedly meant to be a tribute to the fallen BIG, but why would the ghost of Biggie want to see his girl dancing around with a hornball dumbass?

If I’m dead, there are a few things I want to see: A.) A golden statue of me built in my honor; 2.) Into sorority showers (when you die you get x-ray vision) and III.) Free HBO. You’ll not that nowhere on that list is an item called “watch my woman dance around with a hornball dumbass.” And while I’m alive I want to see P. Diddy continue his new love of marathoning and run straight off into oblivion like Forrest Gump.

I can’t even talk about these talentless closet cases without bursting into a rage. They finish each others’ sentences like an old married couple, scream instead of rap or sing, and were so evil as to have inspired Limp Bizkit. Beat your cat and you’ll get better sounds than anything the Beasties crap out. It’s time to get ill, alright, of chronic, irreversible laryngitis.

The worst offense of all from Pearl Jam was that obnoxious “Oh were or where can my baby be” song, which is a remake of a tune of some dude singing about his woman getting killed in a car crash or something. For starters, the song isn’t good, and secondly, it’s freaking morbid to sing a tribute song to a chick you never even had sex with. The rules go that if you had sex with some chick, then she dies, you’re allowed to make a song about it. If not, then no song. Pearl Jam was a bad copy of Nirvana and got completely surpassed by STP, Soundgarden and Alice in Chains. One time when I was nine I made up words to the Super Mario Bros. music that went “Su-PER Mar-i-o BRO-thers; we like to COL-lect coins and mush-ROOMS…” and that song, though bad, was infinity plus five times better than every song ever made by Pearl Jam put together times 17.

1. U2
As the only known person who hates U2, I take a lot of crap for my take on the Irish do-gooders who are always trying to get on TV showing that they give money to African babies and put on a concert for the drying refugees and whatnot. Good job on that, U2. But here’s an idea, how about instead of spending all your free time trying to book appearances on Oprah and Jay Leno, you sit down and try to make a good song for once. I used to only kind of hate U2, until 1997 or so, when that “Pop” album came out, and the very worst song I’ve ever suffered through, “Discotec,” was played every seven minutes by clueless, sheeplike DJs who were too afraid not to fall in line and play the humiliating garbage. Even people that love U2 hate that song, which is so sulphuric-acid-on-the-eyeballs painful that it undermines the entire reason for the existence of music. When my cousin was 4 years old, I told him that U2 was actually “U-Pooh,” and he called them that for the next two years until he learned how to read and found out it was actually U2. Hopefully someday he’ll realize how correct I really was.

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