Have Paul McCartney And Other Baby Boomer Rockers Become A Plague On Modern Music?

When Paul McCartney collaborated with Kayne West on the rapper’s recent single Only One, West fans everywhere took to Twitter asking who the hell this McCartney dude was and how kind Kayne was going to break this unknown white boy, albeit in a musical, not jailhouse sense.

One user gushed, “Kanye has a great ear for talent. This Paul McCartney guy gonna be huge.”

Another West fan enquired politely, “Who is Paul McCartney? He boutta blow up thanks to Kanyer!”

Another philanthropic hip hopper reflected, “This is why I love Kanye for shining light on unknown artists.”

And yet another user excitedly barked, “I don’t know who Paul McCartney is, but Kanye is going to give this man a career with this new song!”

The subtle sarcasm of many of the tweets was lost on a handful of pompous and elitist McCartney fans who couldn’t wait to post their snarky ripostes on what they viewed as genuine and unforgivable musical ignorance.

One user going by the name of Sky Razball snarled, “Only thing makes me mad about the stupid McCartney/Kanye tweets is these damn kids have google. Ain’t no reason for your stupidity today.”

Calling a teenager stupid for not being able to readily recognise a 72-year-old that used to be in an overrated boy band named after an insect seems a tad harsh, but there’s worse; a lot worse.

With all the religious conviction of a born again bigot, a McCartney fan called Duke Of Hoops, declared solemnly on Twitter “The downfall of America’s youth has officially concluded with people not knowing who Paul McCartney is.”

In reality, the downfall of America’s youth would only occur if they became indoctrinated with the “Beatles are god,” and “McCartney is messiah” virus that has rendered huge swathes of music fans unable to contemplate life after the Fab Four, or the fact that there are people who view other bands as being much better than the Beatles – who minus the biggest PR job in history – would always be something of an acquired taste anyway.

Here’s the thing. McCartney’s not Jesus Christ. He’s not even John Lennon. He’s become one of many baby boomers in a music industry where nostalgia is at a premium, and it increasingly revolves around a perpetually dull, and flat present of insipid cover versions and sound-a-likes, which by parodying its past, denies its future.

Following his collaboration with Kayne West and Rihanna, it’s rumoured that McCartney is teaming up with Lady Gaga. For what new horror we have yet to discover, but the man’s like the all singing and all dancing version of Nosferatu.

Much like a pop parasite who sucks the life out of emerging talent to keep themselves feeling vital, relevant, and invigorated, McCartney leads the charge of baby boomer rockers who refuse to relinquish their throne and just go away.

The baby boomer’s boom just refuses to be silenced. Even though their faces are shot to hell, their clothes ill-fitting, their bellies bloated, their skin sagging, their eyes bloodshot, their timing erratic, and their sensibilities shattered, these boomers with their guitars, their worshipful hordes, their fat wallets, their ridiculous haircuts and constant reminiscing about their glorious hey day, remain a diabolical force of nature, hell-bent on denying the youth of today a voice or opportunity to call their own, unless the boomers are given carte blanche to stamp their big, flabby, flatulent footprint all over it.

When the punks told us to never trust a hippy, they were right. These wrinkled relics from the so-called flower power era have deluded themselves about their own lost youth to the point when they’re eternally trying to relive some whispered promise of a generation that has been completely fabricated through the alchemical lens of nostalgia.

The post World War Two generation that became the baby boomers were in general an irresponsible, fickle and selfish breed, who through the innocence of chance, the random nature of history, and the sacrifice of others, were crowned the golden breed who had everything on a plate. Yet somehow they managed to single-handedly squander it and doom future generations to a life of servitude, as banks, businesses and corporate governments cracked their whips and ruled the roost. It’s no wonder Paul McCartney’s always so chirpy. He’s probably thinking, “Better them than me, hey soft lad?”

The boomers popped their pills, tripped their trips, snorted their lines, and casually transmitted sexual diseases and negated all personal responsibility in the name of freedom. Yet when it was the turn of these hippies, radicals, and liberals to take the reins of power and lead the world, the first thing they told the youth to do was just say “no” to drugs, and if you didn’t they’d lock you up in their massive prison-industrial complex.

There’s a baby boomer industry out there and it’s big, bad, growing, and run by boomers for the benefit of other boomers. How often do your hear a boomer booming, “Young people today are pathetic, entitled brats, with no gumption, initiative or spine,” while at the same time fondly regarding themselves as the “special generation” with better books, clothes, music, and class of person than the muddled and botched no-hopers that litter their streets today.

The boomers enjoyed peak levels of income, affordable housing, wider opportunity, and better retirement packages than any generation before or since. And instead of passing the fruits of such benefits on in the altruistic manner they would have you believe once defined their generation, they sat, and sit upon them like a glutinous hen guarding its golden eggs. The boomers defining gesture is that they have made a religion out of consumerism.

So next time you see the likes of Rolling Stone Ronnie Wood stumble on stage like a spritely pensioner to join One Direction, or Paul McCartney get busy with Kayne West, or the Who announce their final, (we mean it this time) farewell tour, or Bob Dylan receive sycophantic praise for the bold decision to release an album of Frank Sinatra standards, or some aspiring young American singer realise his best chance of making it is to team up with two old British guys and pretend to be Freddie Mercury, then have a think about the overall toxic effect this is having on music, and the people who are historically best at making it – the young!