The Ultimate Postmodern Final Armageddon Concert

Let's face it now, we have a serious crisis in contemporary music.  The garage bands of the 1990's are long passé: no longer may flannel-wearing lads of medium talent rise as cream to the top of the musical mixture.  The era of the girl pop singer is long over; Avril Lavigne continues to be as tiresome as in 2003, Jessica Simpson has eased into meaningless to celebrity status and motherhood, and Britney Spears strides womanfully towards irrelevance, much as Cher and Madonna did at an earlier time.  Christina Aguliera merits only a technicolor yawn.  Rap is in the doldrums, and the fickle public has gotten over the Latin craze earlier than expected (thank God).  Of course, there's always the ubiquitous Boy Bands, continually arising out of the primordial ooze that is Florida; much like The Swamp Thing, but without a Florida girl's impressive décolletage to intrigue the guys!  Well, it's now 2012, and we have reached an impasse.

We have the astonishing entertainment of watching singing hopefuls on American Idol and B-list celebrities dancing with professionals on Dancing With the Stars.

Apparently, we have developed a desire for dreck!  Retrospectively, it was sure to come to pass. After all, look what has been going on in art for a long time.  Television was described back in the Precambrian Era as a "vast wasteland."  And the group called U2 ranges loose and sings periodically when the lead singer is not being a self-satisfied dick.  Speaking of which, look at any Super Bowl halftime show as a fortissimo celebration of bad musical and sartorial taste (Madonna, anyone?)!  Clearly, a taste exorcism is called for, even though we have seen no people with rotating heads yet.

My solution to this pretty pass is to fight fire with fire!  After all, if in this Postmodern Era of Contemporary Music everything sucketh, then we must celebrate this fact to the max!  The way to do so is to stage a three-hour concert to be televised simultaneously on all four major networks (note to NBC, CBS, and ABC: Fox is here to stay!).  Other programming should be off the air just "for maintenance." In that way, everyone would have to choose between watching this musical pig party on T.V., or engaging in a heroic act of televised self-denial.

This concert will consist of examples of the worst there is to offer in music.  Oh my Gawd! Just think: we could include such musical pests as Lady Gaga, Glamlily, Blink 182, the Insane Clown Posse, the Vengaboys, Yanni, Korn, Creed, assorted rhinestone cowboys, Sinead O'Connor, Sisqo of "The Thong Song," the Mambo guy, whoever did "Butterfly Kisses," Ricky Martin, Kid Rock, and Jennifer Lopez.  We can't omit Chicago and Blood, Sweat, and Tears from an earlier time.  Surely someone can come forward and sing "MacArthur's Park" and remind us of that misplaced cake one more time.  Also included should be those masters and mistresses of bathos: Dan Hill, Janis Ian, Céline Dion, Barbra Streisand, Morris Albert, Bobby Goldsboro, Gilbert O'Sullivan, and others.  We need to be reminded of what "Muskrat Love" is about, hear Christina Aguliera inform us "What a Girl Wants," and have Sting speculate on "Every Move You Make." Brrr! They guy gives me the dribbling creeps!  May I also say "disco"? Obviously, Michael Jackson has his place in this Pantheon of Poop, even though he's no longer alive!

I heard that someone named Ernie Kovacs had people dressed as apes perform a work called "Solfeggio"; and one of the apes would repeatedly bonk another on the head with a xylophone mallet.  This might provide comic relief to this display of musical excess if this could be done to the one receiving the most votes from the audience as a "avatar of bad taste."

Finally, the program could end with Maureen McGovern singing "There Has to Be a Morning After."  Only after enduring such continuous pain will our listening population rise up and cast off the bonds of musical tripe!  The Bahai Men put it well in a song that shouldn't be included in this affair of misery: "Who Let the Dogs Out."

Lady Gaga