Just about everything up-loadable to the web is well along the way. Perhaps our civilization will end when everything is electronically available. Possibly for our own good, of course.
Looking back forty years, our cultural betters in Hollywood and New York periodically decide we need proper learnin' about how things should be. First up, we get Don McLean's navel gazing, catchy classic American Pie. (I'm sure Don McLean dug the money and all that but he would have rather we enjoyed some of his more cerebral, timeless, mo' bettah stuff).
Not to let history or the chance to cash in on mindless record sales rest, we get some musical genius sales-dude who decides to re/write the latest in history for the over-fed/under-read peoples of western society in 1979 and we get this;
Yes, I do the Rock. Here's the lyrics. We deserved this. Really.
Ten years later, Billy Joel decides to skool the nabobs with more about the popular revisionist history of the fifties, sixties and eighties. After all, he didn't start the fire, now did he? All these useless disconnected one liners, posing as teaching moments.
1989 was when I gave up on popular music. It had to happen. I don't miss it, except when wandering the dark hallways of the web.
Back to the classics. Ravel's Bolero done in a different way, Live;
Go see Buck for some Eydie. It's worth it.