Here I sit, my last evening in the NC rocking a Crayola marker as I itemize CDs full of music which very likely never did nor will dry hump the title of VMA...this as I simultaneously/warily experience the latest iteration of that very same event.
What an exhausted celebration it's become, eh? It's saying something crucial when I must begrudgingly (really, almost violently) award Lady Gaga the Most Amusing Thing of the Event. And believe me when I say that I really, really don't want to do that.
...but isn't it hypocritical to gripe at all? Didn't my generation virtually invent that damned show and what it signifies? I can't legitimately argue whether or not fIREHOSE pined for a spray-painted icon of our nation's achievements in aviation any less than Milli or Vanilli - and can anyone coolly justify the overjoyed acceptance of long-ago winner (and arguably original champion of the genre 'Alternative') from a decade-and-some-change-ago with their 'homage' to recorded visual media - "Tonight, Tonight"? Likely not.
No, I can't argue this. And so I can't truly rail against what I'm seeing - even if it is by and large tired celebrity lazily generating faux excitement/edge to the Next Generation of Fame. Because, really, I was once a part of that cycle - and God help me - I loved the hell out of it.
Even still, I'll quietly burn my discs in the hopes of perpetuating True Variety in defiance of the Modern Mainstream.
I'll just remind myself that the Allman Brothers weren't all about the fame and Gene McDaniels would never shoot a video in black and white just to score some tail.
Seacrest out.
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