THE CHART-TOPPING CHOICE

All I hear you talk about is women, alcohol and music, Zane. To be quite honest it’s getting a little tiring. I refuse to believe that anyone on this earth is so vapid that those three things are the only things going on in their life.

Believe it or not, whilst taking over the world takes a good chunk of my time and energy, I have other interests.

Sometimes, Zane, and don’t tell anyone about this, but sometimes I even take off this mask and cowl and go out into the world and just live. I don’t let my name and my reputation define me.

Unfortunately, Zane, that is exactly what you do. Because you have built this brand, this experience of hedonism, recklessness and alcoholism there is nothing you can do but pander to it.

Without your reputation what are you but mutton dressed as lamb, trying to dine at the same table as the new wave of rock legends?

And because you are always edging this brand, you have become stale and predictable, leading to the exact opposite of what you hoped to be.

Zander, you have become radio-friendly pop, forever chasing chart domination because you think that’s all your life boils down to now. An endless popularity contest that must be so tiring for a man of your advanced years.

The irony is that you, like all the other rock frontmen, started playing because of your love for the music, but whilst many bands skim by on a modest budget so they can keep doing what they do because of their desire to create good music, you have sold out. You now love the lifestyle more than the music, and I have proven this.

By blowing up your tour bus, and showing the ease at which you lavishly replaced it, all I have done is shine a light on your insipid fall from grace. The new bus is a beacon of all that you gave up chasing the fame and money.

Which leads me to this, Zander Zane. How exactly do you want to be remembered when your liver finally gives up and you leave this realm? Do you want to be remembered for partying, for living a life so devoid of emotion that greed is the only one that remains? Or would you rather leave behind that one song, that one album that defines a generation or a movement, that exceeds expectations and defies boundaries? Because the choice is now. You can open your eyes and write this generation’s Bohemian Rhapsody, or you can amble down the Taylor Swift path of faux-edgy ignominy that you have already found yourself on.

You can live a good life without selling out: just look at Freddie Mercury’s lavish lifestyle. The difference is he earned his right to that lifestyle. You haven’t.

So get ready for a real symphony of sorrow to drown out your boring KidzBop drudge, and watch as I ascend the charts with a rallying chorus for a new generation.