Audio drizzle

My heartbeat quickens. The car radio volume is instantly cranked. I am transported back to 1979 faster than I can blink back tears.
Tears? Yes. A lump rises in my throat, preventing me from singing along, though I desperately want to. The decades old anthem rises and swells, and with it, my heart and soul. Let me explain the phenomenon of classic rock and pop for those who weren't there originally.

Something about technology eroded the music making process. The sheer labor and time intensity involved in the pre-Internet music making business was an unabashed display of passion and zeal.
Musicians had no guarantee of success; they sure as heck weren't out to market a brand of clothing or willingly sell out as fodder for eye candy enthusiasts. It wasn't about advancing a career in a push button, low talent, high tech environment.
It was about music. You see, the sucessful music of the '70s and '80s rings so authentic, so vibrant and fresh, that their timless harmonies and original rhythms dominate airwaves and music loops in restaurants, businesses, doctor's offices, supermarkets and shopping malls to this day.
Sorry Britney. Too bad, Lady Gaga. (You ain't no lady, by the way.)
Your stuff sucks.

You'll never make me cry or turn up the volume 30 years from now. Rock on, ELO. Rock on, Journey. You earned your permanent position in pop culture the old fashioned way. And there you'll stay.
I can only wonder if this technology crazed culture will ever re-capture the essence of true music and the heart and soul behind it. I fear not. I fear we're doomed for a continual audio drizzle of pre-fabricated, emotionally stale, mindless melodies so mundane and so vastly uninspiring that we're bored with 'em before they leave the studio.
And that really makes me wanna cry.