You show me a machine or a computer program that can match the stellar majesty of Luciano Pavarotti’s singing “Nessun Dorma,” and I’ll acknowledge it as music. Until then, it’s -blam!-ing garbage. If you’re under 25 years old — or an immature 30-plus — I’m about to set your ass straight. So, listen up. Your music is -blam!-ing garbage. There, I said it. Mindless crap. Eardrum-bursting, dagger-in-the-eyes, ass-bagging, blow your -blam!-ing brains out — unadulterated dog shit. That pretty much sums up the type of music that’s popular with today’s young people. Listen, you stupid sons of bitches. I’m talking at you. I’m your elder. My opinion demands respect. Your music hasn’t got life. It’s -blam!-ing dead. Your music is void of humanity. It’s as fake as a porn queen’s orgasm. There’s no soul. It’s tripe. It’s a carp in the sea of music. The stuff you listen to was created by -blam!-ing machines. Today’s “artists” — there’s an oxymoron — don’t even need to know how to play musical instruments or sing. In other words, no -blam!-ing talent whatsoever is needed to succeed today in music. You heard me. No. Talent. Whatsoever. And, I’m -blam!-ing sick of it because the current generation is taking the gold we gave you and dragging it into a sewer. Listen up, you little pricks. I’m not stuck in some kind of classic rock time warp. Fact is, I expose myself to many different kinds of music. I give all music a chance. Even the techno-trash littering the modern music scene is something I’ve tried to digest, which I found to be like choking down a plate of raw oysters laced with salmonella. It would be nice to enjoy fresh musical acts. I want to hear new songs. I like some young people, especially when they get my order right. But real music is written and performed by humans, not a -blam!-ing computer program linked up to a laser show. Fact: The more fancy gadgets and distractions you need, the most your music just flat out sucks. Music should convey some sense of humanity — who we are, and what we feel. I know that’s a hard concept to digest since your idea of a relationship is picking up a new Twitter follower. Where’s the love and romance in the mind-numbing rubbish that’s played at most nightclubs? Is there any conveyance pain and loss? Or pride and joy? How about playing a catchy tune that’s just fun to sing along with? Is that too much to -blam!-ing ask? I don’t expect to like everything that’s new. As an amateur observer of the human condition, I freely acknowledge that successive generations are obliged to a continuation of the species which sometimes entails pushing boundaries and violating the preferences of their elders. History shows the more radically different one generation is from one to the next, the greater degree of innovations are sparked from such permutations. Music is just one by-product of inevitable cultural and technological shifts, sometimes mislabeled as advances. Yes, yes, yes! New music should piss off plenty of parents and leathery jokers like me. At least I’ll accept “cultural evolution” as being inevitable, and necessary. If you don’t believe this, take a look at the past century. Nearly a hundred years ago, traditional musicians hated a new sound called jazz. Later, jazz loyalists despised rock n’ roll and even the early sound of Motown. After that, the rockers hated disco music. Then, just about everyone hated New Wave and the 1980’s. Next came rap music which irritated everyone over the age of 30. Now, it’s hip hop and something called dubstep, which is essentially music made by computers and sound-making software. This garbage makes rap sound like -blam!-ing Amadeus. There’s a reason this “music” is used as a weapon on suspected terrorists, forcing them to wear earphones and being bombarded with such abuse for hours. I’m not making this up. This is the brain-frying shit they put on the headphones and strap to the ears of prisoners who are handcuffed behind their backs and sit naked in jail cells while they are forced to endure this madness. I’d rather blow my -blam!-ing brains out, and if I ever did managed to get out, I’d be running off to join the nearest terrorist cell in order to extract my revenge.