If music be the food of love, I'm going to throw up.

What is wrong with these people?

Are their ears and brain wired differently from the rest of (and I use the term loosely here) humanity?

I grew up to the stains of Doris Day and Sinatra.  We progressed through the Beatles and Stones era without much fuss.  Our ears were assaulted by the Sex Pistols and Leo Sayer (not a combination to be really recommended).  Duran Duran and George Michael came and went without too much pain, The Verve and Fatboy slim were quite easy on the ears, The Gorrilaz and Green Day produced music with recognizable melodies. Cold Play and Fleet Foxes showed that modern music could be really good.

So there's no lack of talent or even genius in the modern world of music.

Tastes change, differing tonalities and beats all have their own advantages, but I can listen to them all and mostly enjoy or at least endure the sounds.

Except.

RAP.

The moronic sounds produced by these so-called artists, interspersed with obscenities, sexual inferences, drug-related references and sheer outrageous hatred cannot be called music.  These so-called artistes should be taken out and shot, AFTER having headphones glued to their cretinous skulls and being forced to listen to 60 minutes of The Carpenters before the execution is carried out.

Death to all Rappers

I mention this as yesterday, as I was sitting in my office, some boys who were waiting to see a Deputy Principal for some infraction of the school rules were playing some of this Rap crap from their phones or iPods.  (As an aside, when my generation were called to the Deputy Principal's office we were as quiet as mice, and probably wetting ourselves with fear, not lounging about talking loudly and playing music.) I got them to switch the music off as I was beginning to feel ill from the continuous assault on my ears.  I must have looked more murderous than usual, because they complied quickly.

See, I told you to keep back

At the end of the day, when I was on bus duty (trying to stop the more suicidal elements from flinging themselves under the wheels of approaching cars and dissuading the unwashed hordes to put away their cigarettes until they were away from the school) another group of boys were playing more Rap crap from a small ghetto blaster one of them had produced from his schoolbag.  (please note this.  Most of the kids cannot remember to bring notebooks or even pencils to school, but they certainly remember phones, deodorants, makeup and devices for playing music)  I couldn't even ask them to turn it off, as they had been released from durance vile in the Nuova Lazio Stalag for the day and they were perfectly entitled to act as they wished. 

So I couldn't boot the bloody thing under the wheels of a bus, and had to endure 10 minutes of a particularly nauseating rendition by a group of thugs called Lil B.

Sometimes life's not fair.