There was a time, some people claim,
When music wasn't all the same.
No X-factor factory cookie-cut
America's got Talent, The Voice vocal glut.
Not every singer in front of a juror
Festooned their tune with coloratura
And, instead of shaking their asses,
They actually went to music classes.
"In MY day..." sentences will start
From the surly mouths of every old fart.
Modern stars have indistinguishable voices.
In MY day... we had better choices.
Lifelong friendships formed when we'd agree
What went best with LSD.
But Acid-rock or heavy metal
Were not the genres on which I'd settle.
I liked 'prog' for the pot I'd smoke
And beer with sea shanties and traditional folk.
(I still can sing you countless choruses
Of square-rigged ships or maids on ploughhoruses.)
YES were most particularly admired
And their album art was great when you were wired.
But I also liked reggae, which was not allowed,
It being the province of the skin-head crowd.
Stick with Black Sabbath, I was told
But, frankly, that shit left me cold.
Many friends' music was not thrilling
I preferred Leonard Cohen or Dylan.
Give me words artfully written
And with the performer I'll be smitten
But with the pot/Yes combo, to the music I'd succumb
Which is lucky, because prog rock lyrics are usually really dumb.