It's pretty obvious to those with whom I've had professional relationships as a journalist that I am a horrible fit for the job. I hate music journalism. Well OK maybe what I mean is I'm unsure if it even exists. First off, what fills music publications is usually some guy's semi-informed opinion -- the review, a relic from pre-internet days when consumers didn't have the opportunity to just listen to the shit themselves. Alternately, music news is comprised of transposing -- or reproducing -- press releases issued by and to those poised to profit from their subject. Interviews, however, can be awesome provided that they follow a straight Q&A format in which the reader is eavesdropping on a conversation. Which discludes so-called email interviews. What a crock of shit it is to read premeditated answers to a list of questions, which allows the interviewee to interpret and respond at his/her discretion. Knock that shit off -- no excuses. As for feature-style pieces with quotes pulled from an interview to match the writer's thesis? Excuse me while I shit in my own mouth.
Granted, it's not an easy job to describe sound and engage those who make it. It's even harder to sell a bound volume of those descriptions. Luckily, the internet makes it possible for true commentary to thrive, if not reportage, which is impossible without the clout of a major publication. There's no public record to access in music; this is business and Sharon Osbourne doesn't have to disclose shit to anybody.
But here enters commentary, the format with which a handful of bad-ass sites satirize and deflate those who endeavor to bullshit us while championing the real shit (of which there is only a relative shortage). Again, it's not our right to be free of charlatans invested only in separating us from our money; we're required to waggle our weenies at this fuckhead brigade in reply to their demands for our cash and respect. ESPECIALLY those who do it from behind the guise of Rock 'N Roll. To these swine we shall show no mercy.
With this in mind, it's my distinct and proud pleasure to say hard cheese to Osbourne, who won't be unrolling her annual loud music rip-off at all this year. Last summer, it was a one-day thing following 2007's free ticket experiment. (A friend got his ticket by purchasing Ozzy's Black Rain, which equates to about $1000 in misery.) So it's safe to say that Osbourne is at last hoeing fallow fields, the result of alienating her over-12 audience with sponsorship saturation and shitty macho-rock, the passage of more than a decade since a decent Ozzy record, and a warehouse worth of bad PR from fucking with arguably the most beloved frontman of all time and assaulting a TV personality of a hotness roughly equal to the tonnage of three atom bombs. And of course, her TV shows ack. Way to call her on it, America!
See ya, Sharon! Don't let the door hit you in the tucked-back sack!
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