Let me just grab my pearls so I can clutch them properly while we mourn the tragic downfall of human civilization—courtesy of a slightly off-kilter hi-hat loop and a vocal snippet some producer found on a dusty hard drive.
You’re telling me that some of these original songs weren’t exactly Thriller to begin with? Shocking. Truly. But you’re right—taking a so-so track from 1982 and draining every last drop of its soul so it can prop up a beat that sounds like someone dropping a toolbox down a staircase? That’s not just laziness. That’s a statement. That’s the musical equivalent of putting ketchup on a well-done steak and calling yourself a chef.
And yes—obviously—Emperor Nero has risen again. Not with a fiddle this time, but with a cracked laptop, a pirated copy of FL Studio, and the unshakable delusion that he’s Mozart reincarnated. And the crowd? They eat it up. Not because they feel it, but because they’ve been fed so much algorithmic slop that their brains now confuse “monotone bass drop” with “emotional depth.” If you don’t like it? Shame on you. Off to the metaphorical lions—or worse, ratio’d on Twitter.
Now sprinkle in whatever designer drug is currently rotting the collective frontal lobe—let’s call it “Xctasy Lite with a hint of vape pen”—and suddenly a song that’s just a looped “oh yeah” from 1987 and a kick drum that sounds like a wet sponge is considered genius. The listener isn’t understanding music anymore. They’re vibing. Which is a fancy way of saying their brain has shut down enough to tolerate it.
But here’s the best part. They don’t ask permission. Why would they? That would require respect, effort, and gasp admitting that someone else actually created something worth stealing. No, no. You just take it. Slap a new title on it. Call it “interpolation” if you’re feeling fancy, “homage” if you’re feeling bold, and “my new single” if you’re feeling stupid. And the original songwriter? They can go cry into their royalty statement while you take a victory lap on Instagram.
And that, my friend, is the Trump way. Say it loud, say it proud, and never, ever ask for permission—especially if you’re borrowing someone else’s work to sell your own brand of nothing. Art? Music? Please. It’s just branding now. And business is booming.