A few days ago, a rock star, one of those who have been filling stadiums since before I was born, one of those who used to sing about soldiers, said mid-show that he wasn’t there, like some other entertainers, “to influence you with their bullshit”.
Their bullshit? Which bullshit? The bullshit of the people who dared to talk about the war from a stage? Ah. That bullshit.
Meanwhile, somewhere else in the world, a school was bombed. Hit once, then hit again. Over a hundred backpacks in the dust. Twenty-six teachers. The internet was cut so nobody could count. Even a UN mission, which usually speaks softly, said it may have been a war crime. Softly, of course.
And the man, from inside his crystal ball: now is not the time.
Here’s the rule, so nobody gets confused: nobody has to march. Nobody has to have an opinion. If you have nothing to say, shut up and go to sleep in your money bed. That’s fine. Honestly, it’s fine. What’s not fine is mocking the people who do open their mouths and pay for it. In Mexico we call that huevos tibios: lukewarm eggs. No guts.
So I made a song. Dirty late-80s sludge, gang shouts and a bass that sounds like someone moving furniture. I don’t say his name. No need: whoever felt it knows. And if you don’t know who it is, even better, because the song isn’t just about him. It’s for anyone with the biggest stage in the world who calls other people’s voices “bullshit” and sells you a ticket to forget about all of it.
The video: a crystal ball with a king asleep on a bed of cash while everything burns outside and the SOLD OUT tickets dance like idiots. The curtain closes. Then the school: no bodies, just the chalk outlines, because I don’t need to show you a corpse to make it hurt. Then the band drops in: four faceless puppets. You wrote Master of Puppets, buddy. Look who ended up hanging from the strings. At the end, the one who’s really in charge peeks out. Spoiler: it’s a pig. With a cigar.
“But it’s AI!” Yes. I make the music with AI, with my own voice trained into it. If out of all of this the only thing that bothered you was that, the video tells you at the end, in capital letters. Short version: you’re part of the fucking problem.
Your voice is not bullshit. Use it.
Huevos Tibios is out as a video, subtitled in English and Spanish, swearing in both. Also on Suno.
— Chrnx