Generation Surrenderist

My mother once walked into my room while Heather Angel (last track, Sonic Youth’s A Thousand Leaves) was playing. Her comment on Kim’s vocals was in a similar vein to the comments she makes about most of the music I listen to. She said, “This sounds like the ramblings of an autistic.” I know these are politically correct times but while listening to the first couple of minutes of the track earlier I couldn’t help thinking that she did have a point. Oh dear. I feel I have betrayed My Generation.

The penalty for agreeing with parental criticism of music I like will surely be swift and severe. Perhaps I will be made subject to a fetid and formulaic morass of sound, blasted from all directions wherever I go. Everywhere I go, members of My Generation will respond with looks of incredulous disbelief when I scream for release from this “music” that they love and perpetuate through their dollar votes. Death will be no escape from this; when they see that my rebellion persists, they will incarcerate me; my captors will call me Winston and tell me it is not easy to be sane. Eventually something will break. I will be released into the world again, to spend my days sitting in McDonalds with a gaping smile as the latest Matchbox 20/Stereophonics (adapt as needed for US/UK readers) hit blares.

Perhaps this will happen.

Or perhaps I’m just channelling George Orwell because he’s more fun than The Economics Of Contract And Tort Law.