Never mind the Cowells; our music stars are rotten today

I've ignored bad drivers, obnoxious morons and too many idiots to mention.

Because. I. Do. Not. Want. To. Rant.

Despite what some may presume, ranting is not my thing.

I like lists. I like order. I like calm organisation. I like neat. I like tidy.

(I also like Fruit & Nut, but that's another story.)

And yet, despite being what Robocop might call 'a model citizen', I don't fit in.

I don't 'get' so many aspects of the world today that I'm wondering if it's not all some big Truman Show pretence.

Questions bug me that many other people just don't ask.

Maybe it's the heat; lazing in the back garden with nothing more than Nick Drake's greatest hits will immediately give cause for reflection.

So I'll start with music.

If you can't sing, can't play an instrument and don't write your own songs, how in the name of Elvis are you considered a music 'star'?

Admittedly, some of these shortcomings may apply to the Sex Pistols, but there's a long, long line to be drawn from Anarchy in the UK to whatever Simon Cowell dross is stinking up the charts at the moment.

Depressingly, the hype has already started rolling for the next X Factor series. Across the land, hopeful young starlets are pushing gullibility to new limits by queueing for hours for a shot at a live TV slot already pre-allocated to some better connected gullible young starlet.

It's not about the demo, kids, it's about the demographics.

And overseeing this hideous primetime spectacle that somehow still pulls in millions of viewers? Two of the most talentless symbols of everything that's wrong with modern Britain.

No matter how many posh shampoo adverts they put Cheryl-Used-to-be-Cole in, she'll only ever be half a step up from her Geordie shore roots. 'Because I'm worth it'. Yeah, reet, pet. Battered any cloakroom attendants recently?

And she's joined this year by – wowzers! – none other than 58-year-old hipster Mel B from contemporary pop tarts the Spice Girls.

Nothing like having your finger on the pulse, Simon.

As ever, we're missing out, we're being conned and sold a soulless sanitised version of what music should be about.

And, yes, it used to be about something.

I showed my kids (well, forced them to watch) a Sex Pistols documentary recently (on an arts channel, no less) and they were agog.

The music didn't interest them one iota.

But they just couldn't believe that punk rock stopped the traffic – and briefly the world – in 1977.

"Just because of this music?" asked The Boy, looking more confused than ever. "Why were people worried about music?"

There followed an explanation about how music – and the world – used to be very different.

"So this Malcolm McLaren; was he a bit like Simon Cowell now?"

Mmmm. He's more perceptive than he looks, this lad.

"In some ways yes son, in many ways, errrr, absolutely not."

And when the credits rolled, they just slunk back to their iPads and phones like nothing had happened.

Music, especially a documentary about music, made less impact on their world than a new smartphone app or the release of an Xbox game.

It's lost its significance, its power to change things, it's been neutered by the Cowells of this world with their 'hit making factories', by big business and technology that means generations will never experience the thrill of needle on record.

It's now 20 years since the last genuine working class heroes swaggered on to the scene and we're long overdue something new.

So how about it, young people? Yes, you.

Instead of fighting over the latest trainers, why not ask Simon exactly what he thinks of his 'music'.

Why not grill Apple about their latest rip-off iTunes update?

And why not ask MTV if they ever get the feeling they've been cheating us all along?

Then again, there's no point in asking, of course, you'll get no reply.

@kharrison_star