I’m going to tell you why I don’t like electronic music, and, no, I won’t define what I mean by “electronic music.” I’m going to illustrate for you, yes, dear reader, why I’ve formulated and fixed a chasm between “real music” and dubstep, dubtronica, trance, downtempo ambient psi, hardstyle, disco-beat, acid house, glitch, drum and bass, whatever.

I’m picturing a musical staff, a method of conveying information. I’m imagining its rigid lines and the stern, pointed notes that pepper the structure with meaning. I imagine its horizontal flow, stretching out from the time signature, the treble clef, the key, reaching into culmination and dynamic fluidity. The Rules, meant to be known and broken, are the basis for creativity.

That sound, that aching, throbbing, hammering repetition, cracking with each t-t-t, blurring into a ch-ch-ch, kh-kh, that tangle of consonants and the all-encompassing pulse that throbs throughout the body after attaining a bleeding wound. You can’t hear anything else, can’t see straight, after a gash like that, because that untz-untz-kh-kh-ch-ch-t-t-t clouds your senses.

The beats hammer at that staff, cracking and fracturing and splintering that staff, tearing and unraveling its fibers. The unvarying consonants, gaining momentum, crack the staff and the Rules. It caves in, I say! The entire time-tested structure caves in! Notes spill forth and fall down, bouncing from line to line, and froth together somewhere below the base clef. A harmony, you argue? A subtlety? Oppressed by the screaming of that pulsing gash!

No, close your eyes, feel the music, let it move your limbs so you may dance, naked, around this ceremonial flame. Paint yourself and nod your head like a wind-up toy. Embrace its visceral rawness.

Why do humans have the spectial ability to create art? All animals can express themselves and many articulate their wants and needs. We have the unique capacity to structure, to categorize, to discipline ourselves, (to squeeze the universe into a ball). Now, consciousness takes over. Knowledgeable of these rules, we may control our methods of evoking emotion. We can master others’ thoughts through art through our understanding of The Template and The Bases. There, creativity takes over (to roll it towards some overwhelming question).

No, I don’t want to sit around and categorize consonants into infinite sub-genres. I don’t want to pump my fist and mechanically bob my head like a hypnotized animal. I don’t want to “stop thinking about it and just listen.” I am no animal, just as I am no electronica enthusiast.

I don’t meant to offend those who are interested in this music. When I am cased in a room of people enjoying it, I have no social right to speak my mind. Why do I not like dubstep? No, stop it, just listen and let it take over. This Rant opposes the primitive joy of it all.