A Look Back At This Year’s Processed Musical Productions
Published: Wednesday, November 14, 2012
Updated: Wednesday, January 9, 2013 18:01
To the freshman on Newton campus, the weekend is a disease, symptoms including, but certainly not limited to, existential nausea, social fatigue, and a chronic, hopeless wandering about the Mods. Granted, during the week he enjoys full inclusion in collegiate life, but come Friday night, he’s inflicted with leprosy—cast out of the society that once nurtured and embraced him. There is hope, however. For he knows that his redeemer lives, and in his flesh he shall taste Late Night, in all its exorbitance and grease, at the end of an otherwise unsubstantial evening.
In the year 2012, the music connoisseur suffers a similar ethical dilemma. All too often I find myself subjected to the tyranny of Carly Rae Jepsen and Ke$ha, but it’s important to note, just as is the case with Late Night, the over-processed goods these artists are churning are a necessary evil when no better options are offered.
Few moments are more sorry than my Friday night mozzarella stick vigils at Corcoran Commons, but as I baptize the deep-fried death sticks in marinara sauce, I note it as a brief moment of fulfillment, perhaps even salvation. While I have no plans to spend the entirety of my college life in communion with the godless church of Late Night, there’s a certain magic to it all. It brings the downtrodden together, and when better alternatives do arise, Late Night is still there when I need it. Under this same logic, I find nothing reprehensible about the presence of the imported “Gangnam Style” in my iTunes library.
It is important, though, for us to never allow South Korean pop star PSY to replace the more musically upright artists at our disposal. The year of 2012 has simply been a dismal year for music—even Kanye West disappointed us with Cruel Summer, while many of the Adeles and Bon Ivers of the industry simply haven’t come out with anything. Likewise, Late Night does not tackle all the major food groups, nor should it be regarded as the best party on campus. Please, remain faithful to the three major meals. Contrary to common belief, Late Night is not a dinner substitute. But hey, if the fish don’t seem to be biting your line and the Mods are cruel to you, why not dive into a F’real milkshake (even if it is only questionably milk-based)?
Moving past 2012, I pray that the music industry recovers from its injuries to the point where it no longer needs a trash music crutch to support itself. However enjoyable the Gangnam Style “invisible horse dance” can be at parties, I always find myself waking up the next morning recognizing that it is by no means an appropriate anthem for our generation. Pop music seems to be caught up in just as much uncertainty as the economy, and it has no idea what to do with itself. The wondrous crop of rollicking musical anomalies, devoid of technical merit, has flourished in an especially dry year in music. Let us hope artists recognize that it never should become a staple crop.
There has never been an instance when, the day after a hardy Late Night meal, I wake up thinking, “Wow, that was a great decision.” Indeed, deep-fried delicacy is synonymous with regret. The next day, for me there always is a penance of a sort, whether it be a visit to the Plex or a 10-mile run. As Alfred so eloquently posed in Batman Begins, “Why do we fall, sir? So we might learn to pick ourselves up.” Such is the nature of man—that is to say, only through something bad can we fall upon a greater good. As for that pesky world of music, I should hope Kanye West is out there somehow, somewhere, weeping as he watches Cruel Summer continually thrust downward in the charts by One Direction’s Take Me Home and The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn Pt. 2 Soundtrack. Moving forward, I hope he finds friends, like Justin Vernon and Jay-Z, pulls them from their respective homes, and rushes them into the studio, beginning the long process of musical dialysis that the year 2013 needs to be. But as for the next month and a half, I guiltily declare, oppa gangnam style.