Dumb Singers from Nashville
During a bout of insomnia, I happened to come across the blog of quite possibly the most worshipped person of my high-school career. Sixpence None the Richer’s Leigh Nash. The band dissolved two years ago and apparently, Nash is venturing out on her own with a solo album out sometime later this year. There’s a picture of her with too much eye makeup and she has music from her upcoming album streaming from the blog and so I read a couple of entries.
The verdict? My favorite singer is really dumb. Can’t even spell the words “undevided” and “garaunteeing.” She put up a list of her favorite things so fellow bloggers can help name her new album of which nobody even knows the theme. Is it just me, or shouldn’t the artist be able to figure out her own album title? I’m disappointed. I hate this. I hate the proximity one feels from listening to a singer or watching a great movie performance, only to find out that the actual person is a mere shell of the songs they sing or the character they play. I loathe the instances when the actor/actress who gave a stunning performance in XYZ film gets on the Letterman/Leno/Whatever Show and only talks about the fashion line they just spent too much money on. Dissonance kicks in because I realize that the people I ought to be following are the directors and the writers of these films and songs. That’s where the artistry is.
It’s also really disgruntling that these people have lots of money. But more importantly, they have something called Sway. They could do great things with it. They could get on the television and instead of talking about their dumb, spoiled rottweiler, they could take a stand on some issue they feel strongly about. They could channel their money into something other than consumerism.
Well, I guess you’ve gotta love pop colture.
When I’m rich and famus. You’ll sea. I’ll sway the massis for flufy puf marshmellows. Now I jus hope I don’t have a bunch of typoes in this poste or I’m going to look like a reel idiot.
Yes, yes, I really have this much time on my hands. It really is four in the morning and yes, I really can't sleep.
The verdict? My favorite singer is really dumb. Can’t even spell the words “undevided” and “garaunteeing.” She put up a list of her favorite things so fellow bloggers can help name her new album of which nobody even knows the theme. Is it just me, or shouldn’t the artist be able to figure out her own album title? I’m disappointed. I hate this. I hate the proximity one feels from listening to a singer or watching a great movie performance, only to find out that the actual person is a mere shell of the songs they sing or the character they play. I loathe the instances when the actor/actress who gave a stunning performance in XYZ film gets on the Letterman/Leno/Whatever Show and only talks about the fashion line they just spent too much money on. Dissonance kicks in because I realize that the people I ought to be following are the directors and the writers of these films and songs. That’s where the artistry is.
It’s also really disgruntling that these people have lots of money. But more importantly, they have something called Sway. They could do great things with it. They could get on the television and instead of talking about their dumb, spoiled rottweiler, they could take a stand on some issue they feel strongly about. They could channel their money into something other than consumerism.
Well, I guess you’ve gotta love pop colture.
When I’m rich and famus. You’ll sea. I’ll sway the massis for flufy puf marshmellows. Now I jus hope I don’t have a bunch of typoes in this poste or I’m going to look like a reel idiot.
Yes, yes, I really have this much time on my hands. It really is four in the morning and yes, I really can't sleep.
posted by obfuscare at 4:01 AM
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