Bristol is home to some of the truest, most authentic artists I know.
This is a message to the talent agencies and record labels only looking to throw out the “next big thing”, with no regard for integrity or skill so long as the shit sticks.
Real artists don’t fall for these instant tricks.
I’ve had it with glamour addicts
That pander to shallow mags with gambits
Happy to traffic wack shit
If the camera snaps pics
With the rotten smiles of crocodiles
That rob your style, squeeze it through trodden isles
And lob it miles
Hope it sticks, if it don’t?
Grab another talent sucker
Have them smothered and lauded
Plucked and recorded…
Then they suggest you’re all “exceptional”?
These ain’t professionals
They’re suited and booted vegetables
Music industry ‘yes’ men
That cater the next trend
As a way to get ends
In favour of fresh things
And since I struggle to pay rent
They think I’ll act on the double
In a bubble of amazement
Even if they’re blatant
And make flagrant statements
On ‘a couple of changes’
That they’ll cover with pay cheques?
Well I ain’t a sucker
Sufferin-Soccertash, I’ve got to dash
But I just wanna hash this shit out
And warn their ass