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March 18, 2005

A map of the Peak District, containing lemons.

'We make this up as we go along, but we know we're doing it and ours is better.'Or 'Explaining yourself on a BBC2 arts programme without using the phrase "We just do it for ourselves and if anyone else likes it that's a bonus."' Or 'I blame Paul Morley for everything. Apart from bending that Orion. That was my fault.' Or 'This machine kills post-modernists.'

A Manifesto.

All 'rock' music is pop. All pop music is equally worthless. There is no more poetry in 'Boys don't cry' or '51st state' than there is in 'You spin me round' or 'Can't get you out of my head.'

While there may or may not be perfection to be striven for in the 3-minute pop-haiku, that form, originating as it does with the sheet music of Tin Pan Alley, has become moribund.

On April 12th 1954, Rock & Roll killed its progenitor. We can only hope...

No music that uses the three-minute form can call itself revolutionary or new. It slackness to harness new ideas to the yoke of history. If they cannot stand up on their own without the framework of familiarity to pin
them, then they are not good ideas.

Conversely, those who forget the mistakes of history will be condemned to dance to them.

Posted by Hirez at March 18, 2005 02:08 PM

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