On the occasions when I do hear the strains of some song or other from the charts, whether from a passing car’s sub-woofer (is that the name for one of those powerful speakers that only seem to play bass?) or some neon-tainted television programme, I don’t like what I hear. There seems to be concerted effort on the part of music executives (I believe the blame can be laid at Simon Cowell’s door) to fill the charts with younger and younger people.
I’m not sure that it would be so bad if they were actually singing about something that concerned them (puberty and acne anyone?). But there is something distinctly creepy about a youngster crooning about adult themes. Children should not know about love (unless it’s the type of love that they use to refer to their feelings about pizza or a particular sports brand), or heartbreak, or seduction, or sex. The idea that they do and feel the need to sing about it is a touch cringe-worthy.
Maybe it has to do with the fact that in general children seem to think that they are more grown up than they actually are. However, I really don’t think that it is a situation that should be encouraged: nothing good can come of it. All that happens is that weirdness reigns – from the sublime to the ridiculous. From the moronic teenagers who attack strangers without provocation to a young girl I spied – who could not have been more than about 10 years old – wearing heels larger than my own three inches.
Equally strange are the children’s beauty pageants that are so prevalent in the US and becoming more popular here. There’s nothing quite like seeing a pre-teen with a fake tan fretting about her false hair and make-up. In this country, we are already known for high levels of underage pregnancy; do we really want to make it worse? From ridiculous heels for a baby to a thong bikini for an eight-year-old, there seems to be no chance for children just to be children.
I’m sure there might be some people out there who are only to happy for the opportunity to buy a stripper’s pole for their little girl but, do me a favour, don’t let them sing about it. Read more by Shermaine.