Enough is enough.
I’m sick and tired of endless lists, rankings, and debates trying to tell me who’s the “greatest” musician, who’s “technically” better, who can play a thousand notes per second, or who’s crowned the “GOAT” this week.
Music is not a competition.
It never was — and it never should be.
“I hate rankings about who is better. I don’t deal with technique. I deal with emotions.”
That’s my truth. And if you love real music — the kind that touches your soul — maybe it’s yours too.
The Death of Emotion in Modern Music
When did we lose our way?
Somewhere along the line, the heart and spirit of music got hijacked by technical show-offs, YouTube shredders, and endless “Top 100” lists. Suddenly, the magic of a single soulful note meant less than how many arpeggios you could cram into thirty seconds.
It’s a tragedy.
Today, you’ll find millions worshipping hyper-technical, flawless, “funambolic” players — musicians who can do the impossible with their fingers but somehow say absolutely nothing with their souls.
And honestly? I’m no longer interested.
I don’t care if you can sweep-pick faster than light or drum with a metronome’s precision. If your music doesn’t make me feel something deep in my gut — you’re just noise to me.
Better four simple notes played from the heart than a thousand played by a machine.
Remember the Greats Who Played From the Soul
Think about it.
When we talk about legends who changed the world, we don’t remember them for flawless technique. We remember how they moved us.
- Robert Johnson: With just a battered guitar and a haunting voice, he birthed the blues. His playing was rough, raw, and imperfect — but he laid his soul bare. That’s real music.
- B.B. King: He didn’t need to shred. He could make you cry with a single, trembling note on Lucille, his beloved guitar.
- Chet Baker: His fragile voice and muted trumpet didn’t hit you with technical bravado — they caressed you, bled for you, loved you.
- João Gilberto: His whispering bossa nova style barely made a sound — yet it revolutionized music across the globe.
These icons didn’t win because they played the fastest or the loudest.
They won because they made us feel.
And isn’t that what music is supposed to be?
Charlie Watts: The Beating Heart of the Rolling Stones
Let’s talk about Charlie Watts — because I know a lot of people won’t agree with me here.
Was Charlie the flashiest drummer? No.
Did he do wild drum solos or technical feats? Absolutely not.
But to me — Charlie Watts was the very soul of The Rolling Stones.
His understated, tight, no-frills drumming anchored the chaos. He was the Stones’ secret weapon. Without Charlie, all the swagger in the world from Mick and Keith would have collapsed into noise.
Charlie understood something the modern world has forgotten:
It’s not about standing out. It’s about serving the song.
And he did it better than anyone else.
Why I Reject “Top 10” Culture Forever
Everywhere you turn now, it’s another ranking:
“Top 50 Greatest Guitarists”
“Top 25 Best Drummers of All Time”
“Top 10 Bassists You Must Worship”
It’s all nonsense.
Music isn’t a football game.
It’s not a race or a prize fight.
It’s a universal language of emotion — of joy, heartbreak, rage, and tenderness.
Trying to quantify music kills everything magical about it.
How can you rank who makes your heart ache more?
How can you score who brings you to tears first?
You can’t. And you shouldn’t.
Music isn’t competition — it’s communication.
The Problem With Hyper-Technical Obsession
Don’t get me wrong — I admire skill. I appreciate the dedication it takes to master your instrument.
But when the goal becomes technique itself, when musicians prioritize complexity over connection, when fans cheer speed over soul — we lose what made music sacred in the first place.
Great music isn’t flawless. It’s human.
It has cracks. It has breathing spaces. It has raw moments where you feel like the artist is sitting right there with you, telling you their story, not just showing off.
I don’t want to be impressed.
I want to be moved.
The Future I Dream Of
Imagine a world where we stop pitting musicians against each other.
Imagine a music scene where vulnerability matters more than virtuosity.
Where young artists are taught to find their own voice, not just to mimic the fastest hands in the business.
That’s the future I want.
That’s the future music deserves.
Because the best songs — the ones we carry in our hearts forever — don’t win medals.
They win our souls.
So next time you see a “Top 10 Best Musicians” list?
Ignore it.
Turn it off.
And instead, go find one song that makes you cry, or dance, or dream — even if it’s imperfect.
Because that is what music is really about.
Would you like me to also create a click-bait style headline list you can pick from and a short social media teaser to promote this article? 🚀🎶
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