Here is my impression of how the “band” known as “The Black Eyed Peas” operates:
“Hi! I’m Will.I.Am! I have no discernible talent but I still made a hit song just by pressing a button!! My loathsome lecherous lackeys will ride my coattails and hop around on stage like a set of trained seals and since all of them know they have no other talent, they’ll be happy to do it!”
I blame this musical group for ruining music and I put them among my top offenders for the ruthless maiming of music as we know it. Have you ever heard Fergie sing live? Yeah, no one else has either. She lip syncs in concert, people! And when she records, she autotunes up the wazoo! On top of all that, without the paint sprayer that she applies her makeup with, she looks and sounds like a pre-op transexual who has literally begun the hormone pills one day prior.
The thing I hate most about this band is that they are devoid of feeling. They don’t sing from the heart. They create a product to be sold instead of a pure expression of feeling. This kind of thinking opened the proverbial Pandora’s Box up for the Katy Perrys, the Kanye Wests, and the Maroon 5s of the world. Like we’ve learned in the past, you can’t put the genie back in the bottle. These types of mind-numbing garbage bands now infest terrestrial radio airwaves like an aggressive colony of cockroaches. And just like an incorrigible colony of cockroaches, people learn to just live with it instead of trying to attack the problem since it is too far gone.
Musical acts of this ilk manufacture what is marketable and catchy. That may sound like a compliment, but gonorrhea is catchy too but you wouldn’t invite that into your life. Indeed, I have just stumbled upon a metaphor: The Black Eyed Peas are gonorrhea of the mind.