Dear Spotify,

Congratulations on becoming an all-consuming evil entity, you’re in good company. As much as I thrive on fucking things over, and I do, artists are not those kinds of things. You may not know that I consider the creative process a sacred gift; in hell I build altars for musicians and worship like any slave. You might think you’re in bed with the devil, alas, you aren’t.

Your species has, in your muddle-headed, thoughtless way, created a new demi-god, so to speak. Technically, you’ve made a new type of being. A sexless, constantly vigilant and belligerent, quite mindless new entity. It has the will and the drive to go somewhere but nowhere to go. No original thoughts at all, no scruples to speak of. Raised on nothing, it has no meaningful parents, or kin. What will we call it?

I’m going to go with ‘him’ for the size and measure of his balls. I will picture him as the village idiot; whom you have elected for life. He disturbs me because he carries a new kind of corruption, one that doesn’t pass through my hands.

Such a being should be caged, chained, fed a good dinner with a nice wine, then smothered in his sleep. Well, in a humane world. But your creation can only be destroyed by you, and from what I can see you’re getting comfortable and spreading your legs for him.

This I like. None of you are afraid of your dark side anymore, you’ve found a place to take it off leash. Some of you make an excellent living with it. Which brings me back to Spotify; only one among many, but as a user, I’m entitled to make my opinion known.

I think I can speak for the planet when I say that the spoken word does not belong in music. If you can’t say what you want to say with lyrics, you should not be writing songs. I could admit that the first time was mildly amusing, but it would be a lie. Spoken word is its own genre, you abuse both when you force them together. And you keep doing it; though it’s trite and pointless, it leads us away from the melody, it looks like you’re desperate for ideas; it looks like you’re building a mansion for a guy who sounds like Jeremy Irons. Enough already.

Spotify, if you must have mighty overlordship, powers beyond your desert, use them for good. Forbid it entirely.

Then find a way to make sure your artists get paid. What would we do without them?

”Woken Furies” by Gunship Thank you Jeremy, but we don’t need you.