Radio Bile

The most disturbing logo you're likely to see this year. Until one with my face appears, at least.

Okay, in an effort to apply some sort of routine and regularity to my inconsistent posting practices, I’m starting a new weekly opinion piece over at ZME Music. I’ve entitled it “Radio Bile”, for reasons beyond my own comprehension, or indeed, human understanding. My first article takes a look at the oft-lamented world of soft-rock, and some returning luminaries within. Charlie Brooker, I’m one step closer to being a cheap rip-off of you.

It starts thusly:

Soft rock really gets something of a raw deal these days. Mention in a conversation that you like soft rock (in an unironic way, rather than a “sings along to Journey’s ‘Don’t Stop Believing’ after a couple of drinks at a wedding” way… c’mon, keep up) and you may as well have told that person that you’re partial to licking their grandmother – you’re now a social pariah, and you’d best get used to it. Beard-stroking musos will castigate you for not listening to the Mars Volta’s latest 16-minute prog-jaculation with one hand clenched in a tight fist, and the other down your trousers; meat-headed, dim-witted dunces will laugh at you for being too much of a pussy to listen to “real rock”, which in their atrophied brains includes Hinder’s latest single, entitled “30 Ways to Date Rape Your Own Sister”. Probably.

So go read it, and if you like it, do comment on it. Also, if you don’t like it, do comment on it. Also, if you’re indifferent to it… well, you get the idea.


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