Been watching the VMA's yesterday.
How painstakingly obvious that POP IS DEAD.
The stars and their products lost any relevance, self-relativity and boldness. Where's the unpolished beauty of a raw, merciless and heartbreaking pop song?
Dragging myself through the 2h30 of the VMA's I was given to witness some of the emptiest and sickening self-promotions, ass-kissings and irrelevances ever seen amongst the so-called musical talents of our times. Their certain demise can be averted only if a ravaging tempest of a storm was to take place in musicland. Something heartlessly devastating, ice-cold with ground teeth ripping all our souls to pieces.
Last time it was called Punk. Now, Punk may be dead as a music and fashion genre (which, let's face it, it was never meant to be), but it's spirit is once more needed, now more than ever. Or the popstar's soul's only salvation lies in doing the Hutchence. And I wouldn't wish that to any of them.
Read "Lipstick Traces" by Greill Marcus, see Julien Temple's "The Filth And The Fury", listen to any British record of the late seventies and understand what I'm saying. Punk saved us from the Bay City Rollers, so be grateful. Punk is only about the commitment to what you believe and the courage to question all AND yourself!!

By the way... Work on the next installment of MadMrMonkeyMagazine is proceeding, so quit bugging!! Next issue will appear in October. It'll be worth the wait.