Smooth Jazz

More like smothered jazz. 

I've pretty wide-ranging, catholic tastes. There are a few genres with which I haven't really clicked—such as opera, although I love classical—but I keep hoping I will someday. 

And then there's smooth jazz, which is utterly devoid of any value whatsoever, as far as I can see. 

Very briefly and oversimplifying, I've always felt music shouldn't be safe. It should be dangerous in some way, pushing some boundaries somehow. Beethoven, Robert Johnson, Hank Williams, John Coltrane, the Sex Pistols, to name just a very few, they all did in different ways. 

Smooth jazz, though, is just aural wallpaper, meant to be comforting and virtually invisible. But it's not. It's artificial and pervasive and saccharine and just, to use a technical term, yucky.  The musicians are uniformly masters of their instruments. They simply have nothing to say. But they keep flapping their gums anyway. 

This says it ever so much better that I could. 

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About the other scott peterson

Writer of comics and books and stuff.
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