With the emergence of faster technology and the ever-present desire to take over the world, computers have become a friendly enemy. Downloading is just another by-product of this computer activity.Frankly, DOWNLOADING HAS MADE MUSIC DISPOSABLE. If you don't like that new Drake or Che Grand, all you have to do is throw it in your Recycle Bin. But you would probably take a real listen if you spent your hard-earned babysitting, grass-cutting, 9 to 5 money on an album. Instead many of us frequent the blogs and the message boards in hopes of catching the new T.I. leak. Why? Just wait for the release date. You can't? Maybe that is the reason your favorite musicians keep pushing the release date back.
You don't got the money to cop those CDs? *SNEEZE* I am allergic to bullshit!
You got the money to cop your fresh clothes, the new J's, Lacoste polo shirts, and them ugly ass Eskimo boots that some girls be rocking. Yeah, you got the money but you spend it in other ways. That may explain your degree of love for music. You may have very little love for music, but I don't want to stand on any pedestal, looking down upon anyone. I don't need to keep up with the Joneses. Fuck the Joneses. They never cut their grass -- lowering my mom's property value. Plus, their dog barked loud as a bitch at night. What we need to do is take the music slower. Let's do research on the music instead of being so eager to swallow all of this mass-produced commodity. So what if I have 75 GBs of music on my computer if I haven't taken the time to listen to it? Downloading cheapens the listening experience. There is nothing like running up in the spot and grabbing the CD, tape, or LP and pulling out your cash. Then you step with some pep to the whip to rip off the plastic and push the disc in the stereo. Then you look at the cover art and read the liner notes. Now, that's an experience.
But instead, you go to the blog and right-click for download. In ten minutes, your microwave hip-hop is hot-n-ready to be digested; however, you are not ready to listen. You open the folder and push play . . . Clean your room or brush your teeth . . . You hate it . . . Where is Kanye? Where was the catchy hook courtesy of Ferrari 50?... Then that microwave dinner music stops . . . The only sound is the crumble of the Recycle Bin.
So Ladies and Gentlemen, I hope to see all of you in the record store one of these days.