Remember when Tori Amos bucked the trend of female musicians in the early 90s by playing vaguely abstract songs on her piano instead of tit-reliant dancepop?

That was awesome. Whimsical and awesome. She burst onto the alternative scene and captured the hearts of a lot of disenfranchised people.

Remember when Tori Amos started gussying herself up like Janice from Electric Mayhem, invented five alter egos and went on a ridiculous and ill-informed tirade against an undeserving Britney Spears?

(Oh shut UP, Janice.) That was not alternative. It was pretentious, contrived and ignorant.

Remember when Christina Aguilera bucked the trend by spanking her inner moppet like no one had spanked it before? She put eleven wigs on at once, covered her hoo-hoo with a leather eyepatch, emptied a vacuum cleaner bag on herself and got Dirrty?

That, despite being a raging chart topper, a comeback of sorts, and unrelenting source of pop culture fodder for years to come, was technically alternative.

Remember when Christina Aguilera started stalking Lady Gaga, collecting all the bits of costume that dropped off her to make into her own Lady Gaga disguise, which she then wore constantly as she clomped all over the world trying to remind everyone that she was here first?

It was/is not alternative. It is tired and counterproductive. (It is also a little bit sad. And yo, Xtina, we’ve ALL seen Madonna’s Human Nature video. Put the riding crop away.)

So, why the sudden breakdown of what does and does not constitute “alternative”? Because it has been brought to my attention that the status quo eschewing pescetarian fringe enthusiast of deceptively plain nomenclature—otherwise known as Amanda Palmer—is currently skittering about wildly in the divide between alternative art and blithe caterwauling for attention.

How? By releasing an EP of Radiohead covers. Performed on the ukulele. A “magical” ukulele. For 84 cents.

(The EP is 84 cents, not the magic ukulele.)

How delightfully whimsical and not at all contrived! That’s so alternative I can’t even fathom it with my tiny mind! Wow. That Amanda Palmer sure is alternative. She’s so alternative she makes Meshell Ndegeocello look like Raven Symone.

You know what? Fuck Amanda Palmer. Fuck Radiohead covers. Fuck magical ukuleles and fuck her 84 cents. It is this level of affected kookiness that gives all alternative artists a bad name.

If, on the golf course of artistry, you occupy a position that’s more rough than fairway (or say, in Prince’s case, from rough to fairway back to rough to up a motherfucking tree), then that’s totally cool. I love that there are artists of all kinds (visual, musical, film..ical) doing their thing. Not because it’ll explode into the collective consciousness, but just because they love it.

But what I can’t stand is people taking mulligans: kicking their golf balls to places other than where they naturally fall, in an effort to avoid being par*.

I’m actually embarrassed for Amanda Palmer. This is so bad, somewhere in the world right now James Blunt is going “Gosh, Mands, isn’t that a bit pretentious?”. James Blunt thinks Amanda Palmer is pretentious*. That’s bad. And I don’t know when Amanda Palmer was alternative, but I know she was -- probably even still is. She has a substantial legion of fans, and has many different musical incarnations. But playing Radiohead covers on a “magical” ukulele for 84 cents (“but, oh, more if you feel like it, to support my struggling artist soul?”) is forced and pretentious and hateful.

Not buying this album is not enough. I want to do more to protest against this. So not only am I not going to pay 84 cents to hear Radiohead savaged on a ukulele; I am going to pay my real ukulele playing friend a whole dollar to play whatever the fuck she wants.

*Not actually verified. But possible.

**I honestly had no idea, when I started that golf metaphor, that I’d get so much mileage out of it. I thought it was a hole in one, tops -- but there were so many links! Sure, it got a bit buggy towards the end there, but that kind of humour suits me to a tee. Don’t you agree(n)? Also: Something something flag divot eagle. There, I’m done now.

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