The toe-tappingly tragic troubles of a particular type of refugee

For when one super fast doof-doof is already too much
There is something dying on the waves. They desperately try to be noticed and have their voice and complete message heard. But slowly but surely, these have been dying off. The government has done nothing to slow down this purging. I talk about, of course, album versions of songs.

For too long now, radio stations have edited and processed the hell out of the original, on-the-album versions of the latest and greatest songs. Some chopping are subtle and/or necessary (according to law and good taste), but some of the prime cuts absolutely butcher the song; castrating, slicing, dicing and killing the meaning of the song.

Like I said, some of the cuts are necessary, whether it be because of the language (The awkward pause occurs in that crappy, cuss-laden Eamon song at least 30 times. True story.) or the themes of the lyrics (Eminem's 'Stan' had whole lines severed because of the content).

Then comes a recent-ish (I think) version of editing: speeding up songs. Have you ever tuned in to your favourite commercial station (How could you?!), became excited as they played your favourite song that you've memorised every single nuance of, but then realise that the song seems shorter, that the pitch is a little higher? This is the radio station's fault. This speed-up is done to be able to squeeze in more ad time, while unintentionally (or is it?) sacrificing the very nature of a song. WILL YOU LET THIS STAND?

If you think that's bad, brace yourselves for the next radio WMD: Dance mixes. [insert dramatic musical sting]. Imagine a slowish-yet-irresistible song. Got it in your mind? Now imagine that song sped up about two or three times the usual tempo. Ugly, isn't it? Now imagine the song with a crappy drum beat and synth tune. Scared yet? Now remove the most catchy bits of the song. What are you left with? A shell of a poor excuse for a song. Basically, annoying background noise that will haunt you very reality and dreams.
Why have I given you this nightmarish mental image? To prove a point. While I'm making points, let me dedicate this paragraph to 'Song 2' by Blur. You know, the 'woo-hoo' song? I was listening to a commercial station (Forgive me for my sins, readers!). They were airing one of those programs with hours of crappy dance music and remixes. My ears prickled when I heard the familiar guitar riff of said song. I prepared to rock on to the 'woo-hoo' bit; the very essence of the song that makes it so damn delicious. I hear the riff again. No biggie. Then I hear the same riff again. And again. And again. Over and over again. Then the 'cool, hip' choppy version of the starting guitar riff. Five minutes later (yes, that's how long they repeated the riff for), the woo-hoo bit finally played. Unfortunately, by this time, I had already smashed up a couple of things and vomited in rage, so the song was entirely ruined. Five seconds after the woo-hoo bit, there's the transition into the next disaster. Rest in peace Song 2. Your memory and woo-hoo bit lives on.

How many other songs like Song 2 have to suffer the fate of the commercial radio nip & tuck for the sake of squeezing in one more ad, and appealing to the 'Drugged-up raver who isn't even listening to the radio but is instead taking one too many ekkies and frothing at the mouth' demographic. The normal class is being alienated to the point of [shudder] turning off the radio?! [Dun-dun-dun].

So do whatever you have to do to stop this atrocity. Send complaints. Walk in and complain. Start your own community station. Hell, even sulk around and bitch and whine your troubles into your own little bottle that'll end up exploding in a public hissy-fit. We need to get rid of this curse. Screw everything else. This is the real curse on our fair world.