Pop is dead.

Ever wanted to bludgeon someone? Not sure of the spelling, can't be assed googly-oogling, but you know the word. Phonetic-like. To Bludgeon someone. You're slurring like when you name the off-license (Budgens), slurring when naming the town (*Budgen - only bunkdefunk'll get that*), but not when telling someone properly what you want to do. Two geographic places, one act of savagery. All the same. Fuck, you could bludgeon someone in the Budgens of Budgen, and no-one would listen to your confession. If only there were a Budgens in Budgen, but there ain't, so I digress.

Which makes it easier for me to dream of that first murder. That first one you attempt before you go totally loco. Bludgeoning someone to death; winning the argument, stating your case, making them see sense, or just going all Alpha on them. Stating your case. Driving your point home. It's easy to just concede, that's what the weak do, in the films. They're always the first to go though, the weak. (Ellis in Die Hard, Bill Paxton in Terminator, etc).. The strong drill their idea into your head, drill it in beyond the point between your eyes where you think you think. Of course, the point between your eyes is where you think you think; the Mind's Eye, but it's not where the brain actually runs. Fuck, the brain reigns over the whole head man, and body. The easiest focal point, but even listening to listens throws the centre off point. Pop some earphones into your lugs and you'll always be caught by the studio balancing of the sound of music;

DRUMS: background, right ear to start with
BASS: Both ears, but if it's aiming for a subliminal build, Left then centre
LEAD GUITAR: left lobe, always, to start. This is, I think, stereo sound now, with all ingredients going. Apparently

AND ALWAYS: EVERYTHING STARTS IN THE RIGHT LUG, the kicker in the left

But listening to all elements in any given song, I've always felt the sensation in my skull, the vibrations; and tried to guage where science dictates they should be. Boom in the left ear, boom in the right, the only space left is in the middle. Right between my eyes, but further back. Surely this is the Mind's Eye then, non? Or is it? The point of visual focus feels physically distinct from the part that listens to music. The part of it it that remembers all the random/important shit is the flatmate who's been backpacking for years, return date indeterminate. The room is warm, but apart from a few posters, there's nothing there. Empty space in the head, doing little.

All this goes on in my head. Lead guitar, bass, drums, and thoughts. I can deal with that. Fucking pop music though , Crikey O'Reilly. The anodine musings of the X-Factor, the radio, the open world, it all fugs the mind. Where I used to have thoughts of studio productions, and stereo-balance, I'm left with seething desires to kill, maim, rape and butcher. This music of/for the masses is song-by-song debasing another piece of me, and assaulting every part of my skull. Not an uncommon phenomenon, I'm not alone; brains rot left, right, and centre. The media beast bears the 666, and while I see the easy way to tippy-toe the movement, I cannot save those around me.

So thoughts of murder begin. I know the truth, to some extent, and there is no way of saving anyone else, this ratcheting anger-pain will not subside. Every flapping moon-cow I see needs to be educated. I will educate every one of you useless users, even if you don't want it. I will drive my shard of righteousness into that middle part of your brain. That part of your brain where you gauge the left and right Stereo Sound. My divinity is going there. I will murder your lack of attention. I will bludgeon you with my wall of musical righteousness, force it into your skull, and never give up, EVER, until you have burnt Cowell on a stake.

Pop music is here, but it must die.