Even the Mona Lisa is falling apart.
Well did you hear, there’s a natural order.
Those most deserving will end up with the most.
That the cream cannot help but always rise up to the top,
Well I say: Shit floats.
Today, Donna Summer died. Meanwhile, in London, the Ivor Novellos were taking place. The writers, that's the writers, not the public or record company executives, gave awards to Ed Sheeran, Adele and Take That. Oh, and PJ Harvey for her album, but they pretty much had to do that if they weren't to lose all credibility. Two years ago Lily Allen won three, including one for the lyrics to The Fear.
There's always been terrible music. That even the writers are now giving awards to mediocrities, when 35 years ago Summer, Moroder and Belotte were ripping it up and starting again (alongside their punk contemporaries it should be noted) really ought to bring home that, for the second time this week, this has to stop. Please.
Labels: Adele, Donna Summer, Ivor Novello awards, music, music industry
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