Blessed are those that can make music, for their work falls within the rare combination of two wonderful sets - that which brings joy to the world, and that which cannot be easily produced or replicated except by those with inordinate talent. But even those with copious talent slip-up at times, and there is one transgression in particular that gets my goat. Today, we talk about recycled music.
I care very little for the morality of the issue itself. Passing off repetition as originality seems to be pretty bad form all around, and that is pretty well established by those who care, for those that don't. No - what bothers me instead is that music is as much a key into one's memory as letters from the past carefully preserved, or photo albums gathering dust suddenly discovered. And when someone comes along and decides to take liberties with that, it all feels rather rude and abrupt.
At the very least, if liberties are being taken, I'd rather they were fairly generous in nature. And I think
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