Gonzo - Neoclassical Massacre
Sorry, not sorry if I sound rude
But I was the first underground dude
To make a piano record with a pop attitude
Now I got so many children, it's a family feud
And that was way back in 2004
Solo Piano was the album that opened the door
Today they call it neoclassical, but don't confuse it
It's a stretch to even call that shit yoga music
A song without a melody is atmosphere
It's okay, but it can't catch your ear
When there's no tension, then there's no passion
It won't hold my attention, I guess I'm old-fashioned
I hate it when my ears are not surprised
That's when you know the composition's compromised
The piano has been monetizеd
All those fingers tryna hit the sweet spot, thеy've been spotified
Catalogue with a Grammy nod
Piano god, I'm not mad at all
I got entire albums at a hundred million streams
Which means, I keep 'em listening
And you
A slave to the playlist
Face it, you're faceless
Your label's a rapist
Your music leaves no traces
Nobody loves it, or hates it
And your status is so swagless
The saddest part is that your art creates no addicts
You're in a musical prison
Nobody's choosing to listen
There's a new algorithm, it's pitching your pieces
To someone in their kitchen tryna finish their thesis
Oh, no, they say they love you, but they lie
Your stats will stay high the more you sound like AI
Your wafer-thin songs are vapor
You are not a painter, you're a wallpaper
And do not add me 'cause I am not peaceful
Your math doesn't add up 'cause we are not equals
In your Philip Glass mask, amateur
Welcome to my neoclassical massacre
Peaceful piano
Pitiful arpeggios
Unoriginal, stereotypical,
sounds like you're typing
Three chords on a digital keyboard
I call you mini-me, you call it minimal
And your performance is conformist
I cringe it all those pictures of your piano in the forest
You say you take your inspiration from nature
But there's nothing faker than seeing you playing on a glacier
You told your camera crew to make it look organic
Oh, your piano suddenly appeared as if by magic
You posted a sunset, but the sky's cloudy
You're not Einaudi, you are Zweinaudi
And if you wonder who I'm talking to
Well, it's probably you because it's all of you
And if you're offended, call my manager
The number's 1-800 Neoclassical Massacre
