I have rage Rage Against the Musical Machine. It is contempt for the major labels, spoon-feeding the repetitive, non-descript drudgery of today’s pop music to an audience conditioned to settle for background noise over brilliance.
Estimated reading time: 10 minutes

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Table Of Contents
- The Revenge Of Rage: Why I Don’t Listen Any More
- My Rage Goes Even Deeper
- Bill Hume
- How The 90s Club Music Became Today’s Pop Template
- The Genre That Wouldn’t Die, It Just Got Safer
- Rick Beato
- The Underground Is Alive
- The Short List
- And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make
- Let’s Not Pretend This Doesn’t Matter
The Revenge Of Rage: Why I Don’t Listen Any More
Who am I to criticize most of today’s youth for their musical taste. My musicality is based on the latter half of the twentieth century. Call me old-fashioned and conservative, very conservative. It took me ten years of suffering through U-2 before I started appreciating and enjoying them. My affinity for the Police was instantaneous.
Others might think I should move on. Isn’t there great music today? Well, yes, there is a lot of great music today. But no, not in pop music.
Science backs me up.
A 2012 Spanish National Research Council study analyzed half a million songs and found that pop music is measurably dumber, louder, and more repetitive than ever. It’s not just your ears. It is real.

The Spanish National Research Council (CSIC) analyzed nearly 500,000 popular songs recorded between 1955 and 2010. Their peer-reviewed study, published in Scientific Reports, revealed that modern pop music has become increasingly louder, simpler, and more homogenous over time.
Their findings confirmed what many of us already feel in our bones:
- Chord progressions are less varied.
- Melodic structures are dumbed down.
- Timbres (the color and texture of sound) have been drastically reduced.
- And thanks to the so-called loudness wars, most songs today are mastered to be as loud as possible, at the expense of dynamic range.
Want the science? Click on this sentence.
My Rage Goes Even Deeper
When I listen to today’s AI-approved slurry, I hear lifeless noise; soulless, programmed, polished to death.
It’s not music. It is assembly-line content: the same chords, the same synthetic drums, and the same glossed-over vocals. You could swap the artist and rename the track no one would notice.
There’s no risk. No edge. No fingerprints. Just a loop engineered to reaffirm the familiar. There is nothing to challenge you.
It is laziness. Pop music doesn’t even pretend to care anymore.
What comes out of the machine is not created by flesh and blood; it is a pipeline of the algorithm, pumping out sonic sewage. This is not a band in Studio A but a formulaic digital tragedy. It is designed to stream, engineered to trend, and manufactured to be digested and forgotten, put in place for the next ‘Hit’ which will be monetized.
The feel, the humanity, the push and pull that makes a groove live? Replaced by quantization and click tracks.
Precision without soul. Convenience over nuance.
It is a commodity, not crafted out of passion.
And I want nothing to do with it.
And the worst part? The audience believes this to be normal.
Bill Hume
Billy Hume is a Grammy-nominated, Gold and Platinum-certified music producer, mixer, composer, and musician. He is best known for his work in the early 2000s Atlanta hip-hop scene, contributing to projects by artists such as Lil Jon & The East Side Boyz, Ying Yang Twins, David Banner, and Ludacris. His production and engineering were instrumental in shaping the sound of Southern Hip-Hop and Crunk during its rise in mainstream popularity.
In addition to Hip-Hop, Hume has worked across multiple genres, including Rock, Country, Bluegrass, Jazz, and Metal. He has credits on numerous major-label releases and continues to work independently out of The Zone Studio in Georgia and Moon Shade Hollow, a residential studio in the Appalachian foothills.
Hume is recognized in the industry for his technical skill, versatility, and commitment to helping artists develop their uniqueness without relying on formulaic production.
Go Down The Rabbit Hole
How The 90s Club Music Became Today’s Pop Template
Remember the club music of the ‘90s, the rise of EDM, the synthetic pulse of 808 drum patterns, and the newly minted digital samples stacked over simple chord vamps. Or not. It was repetitive, but it was new. It had a pulse, even if it lacked depth.
But here’s the thing:
That same formula, those same structures, the same four-on-the-floor beats, the identical predictable builds and drops, never went away. It migrated. What used to live in the club is now plastered all over mainstream pop.
The Formulae:
1. Intro (0:00–0:15)
- A sparse beat, maybe a reversed synth swell or vocal chop
- Designed to ease the listener in without overwhelming
- Sometimes, just pads or filtered chords with a riser
2. Verse (0:15–0:45)
- Low energy
- Minimal instrumentation (maybe just kick, bass, and vocals)
- Focus on lyrics and groove
- Vocals are often dry and intimate, letting you feel close to the singer
3. Pre-Chorus (0:45–1:00)
- Builds tension
- Snare rolls or risers come in
- Harmonic movement increases
- Lyrics start to become more emotionally charged
4. Chorus/Drop (1:00–1:15)
- The money shot. Big synths, big drums, big everything
- If it’s pop: catchy hook with full instrumentation
- If it’s EDM: vocal cuts, side-chained synths, and kick-heavy drop
- Usually repeats or varies later
5. Post-Chorus (1:15–1:30)
- Sometimes, a simplified version of the chorus
- Often features a vocal chop melody or instrumental riff
- Keeps the energy up before pulling back
6. Verse 2 (1:30–2:00)
- Same lyric structure as Verse 1, but slightly more layered
- Maybe a new synth or harmony added
- Designed to prevent listener fatigue
7. Pre-Chorus 2 (2:00–2:15)
- Often identical to the first but with a bit more energy
8. Chorus/Drop 2 (2:15–2:45)
- Sometimes, it is even bigger than the first drop
- Everything louder, thicker, maybe add a high harmony or synth layer
9. Bridge or Breakdown (2:45–3:15)
- Energy crashes
- Often, emotional or ambient
- Maybe a piano or isolated vocal moment
10. Final Chorus / Drop (3:15–3:45)
- Full blast.
- Often combines vocals from earlier with the energy of the drop
- Emotional peak or final dance moment
11. Outro (3:45–4:00)
- Fade out, instrumental riff, or final line
- Some tracks loop back to the intro feel
- without overwhelming
- Sometimes, just pads or filtered chords with a riser
Now you can write a hit. Congratulations.
The Genre That Wouldn’t Die, It Just Got Safer
The music did not evolve; it was repackaged. Sound familiar?
I used to hang with my girl friends at these clubs. The genre still feels the same.
Pop music today is built on the skeleton of 1990s EDM but stripped of any rawness or edge. Please argue with me if you think I am wrong.
Today’s pop music has been polished into sterile gloss.
Same format. Cleaner. Safer. Emptier.
Nothing changed. It just got market-tested.
And we’re still pretending it’s fresh.
I hated it then. I hate it now.
Rick Beato
Rick Beato is a musician, producer, and educator with decades in the industry. He holds a master’s in jazz studies, has co-written Billboard-charting songs, and has worked with artists like Shinedown and Needtobreathe.
He built a massive audience on YouTube with “What Makes This Song Great?”, a series in which he breaks down hit songs track by track and explains why they work musically.
He’s also one of the most vocal critics of today’s mainstream sound. His videos dissect how Auto-Tune, quantization, and loudness normalization have replaced dynamics, human feel, and variation.
Beato doesn’t speculate. He plays the stems, shows the waveforms, and walks you through the difference. And the contrast is obvious.
The Underground Is Alive
If you’re an artist and share my despair, there is hope. Just because of the state of current affairs doesn’t mean we are stuck. In fact, we’ve got more options now than ever before.
You don’t need a label. You don’t need permission. With a decent interface and some focus, you can write, record, mix, master, release, and promote your music entirely on your own terms. Platforms like Bandcamp, SoundCloud, and YouTube are filled with artists making raw, genre-defying, fully independent work without industry filters or gatekeepers.
Real musicians are building loyal followings without a dollar from a major label. They’re building real communities, one fan at a time.
Some are on Patreon, where supporters contribute a few monthly bucks to keep the music alive. Others write on Substack, telling their story between releases. Some host listening sessions or behind-the-scenes chats on Discord, connecting directly with those who care. There are no middlemen. No approval is needed.
And it’s working.
The Short List
You don’t have to settle for pop sludge. Artists make real music with blood, sweat, breath, and soul. No algorithm. No assembly line. Just pure expression created by people who know how to play, write, and feel.
You just have to step outside the mainstream echo chamber.
Here are four artists doing it on their own terms. No major label gloss, compromise, or filter.
Elena Maque represents everything current pop music is not, dynamic improvisation, live instrumentation, genre fusion, and an authentic artistic voice. Real musicianship is still alive, even if the top 40 wants to pretend otherwise.
Andy Carhart is an independent, multi-instrumentalist singer-songwriter based in Colorado. Working entirely outside major-label influence, he crafts music that spans acoustic folk, instrumental guitar rock, electronica, and metal.
Thom Chacon is a singer-songwriter and multi-instrumentalist based in Durango, Colorado. He is known for his authentic storytelling, acoustic guitar work, and weathered vocal delivery.
Alysha Brilla is an independent, Indo‑Tanzanian Canadian singer-songwriter, multi‑instrumentalist, producer, audio engineer, and film composer. As a multi-instrumentalist, she weaves guitar, piano, drums, percussion, and vocal layers, blending folk, world, soul, and pop influences into emotionally rich, culturally rooted music.
And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make
Thanks for hanging in there and reading my rants. If you agree with me, great. If you don’t, also great. I know plenty of gifted musicians who’d push back hard on everything I just said. And they’d probably have a point or two.
Like I have said in the past, opinions are like armpits. Everybody has two, and they both stink. That goes both ways.
But here’s the deal: this blog isn’t about being right. It’s about being real.
I’ve spent a lifetime making music, chasing meaning, trying to keep the fire lit. Now, the industry dumps buckets of formulaic nonsense on everything that breathes. If that frustrates you too, you’re not alone. And if it doesn’t, hey, that’s cool.
Still, if there’s one thing I’ll always bet on, love, honesty, and genuine artistry will outlast the noise.
So keep listening. Keep creating. And most of all, keep caring.
Because, in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
Let’s Not Pretend This Doesn’t Matter
If this hit a nerve, good. That means you’re paying attention.
You are not alone if you’re tired of background noise disguised as music.
Share this post. Drop a comment. Argue with me if you want. I’ll listen.
Better yet, support the artists who are actually doing the work. The ones making music with heart, not marketing plans.
And if you’re one of them?
Keep going. We need you.

What do you think your future self would tell you to start doing right now?
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