The other day I found myself listening to a song in a friend’s automobile. There I was wondering, “What is this god-awful tripe, what moron thought it would be a good idea to cover a Backstreet Boys song” when I heard the hook. Then I realized: this is James Blunt, this is the asshole I’ve been hearing so much about, the name every pretentious indie college radio wannabe poser drops whenever they want to sound unique and rebellious.

It’s no surprise that he’s popular; he’s using the same bullshit paint-by-numbers song writing strategy that’s been pop gold since the dawn of time. ‘But Erin,’ you say ‘he’s so tragic and romantic’. So is Enrique Iglesias, but oh wait, if you admit to liking that people won’t see that you’re unique and that you have a sensitive side …. without also realizing that you’re a pussy. Now it’s okay to enjoy sappy music and tell all your friends, because he wearing a beaten up old sweater, sporting a beard, and perfectly embodying the stereotype that you someday hope to mimic.

I’m not claiming to be some sort of musical connoisseur, I openly admit to having far less than respectable musical tastes and interests, but even I can see through this musical monotony. It’s just the same boring old ‘I’m just an honest guy with a broken heart’ routine with a hobo filling in for a polished little Justin Timberlake or Usher impersonator. Only this time, the suckers buying it up faster than they can make it (besides moms everywhere) are college indie snobs who think that they’re above the rest of the record buying population because they don’t fall for that fake image bullshit.

In summary, if you are offended by me or my opinion, bite my ass. If I have to listen to one more pseudo-emo enthusiast tell me what’s wrong with what I listen to I swear I’ll be a pop convert forever.