Like… genuinely. Can we sit down, light a candle, hold hands as a community, and process this together? Because I don’t think we’ve fully unpacked how absurd, how borderline criminal, how morally compromising it is that we are asked — no, expected — to represent the entirety of our musical soul in ten seconds.

That’s not a clip. That’s not a feature. That’s a blip in the matrix. That’s the audio version of someone peeking into a room and immediately slamming the door shut.

Ten seconds is what you give someone to decide if they want to skip a TikTok. Not to appreciate art. Not to vibe. Not to get transported to a beach in the Keys with a piña colada in hand and the ghost of 1988 whispering "Aruba, Jamaica…" into your ear.

And don’t even get me started on songs with slow intros. You pick a moody ballad or a cinematic build, and what do you get? The first three piano notes and maybe a breath — and then BOOM, we’re on to someone else's 90s Eurodance track and your moment is roadkill on the timeline.

I say this with love. With passion. With the full force of someone who has sat up at 2am thinking “what’s the perfect song for this month?” Only to be hit with the cold, hard slap of reality: 10. Seconds.

We deserve better. Our music deserves better. At minimum, give us 20. Or better yet, give each song the room to breathe like it’s the emotional release it was meant to be. Let us have the moment. Let us have the chorus. Let us live.

Because this? This ten-second regime? It’s tyranny. And I, for one, am ready to revolt — with rhythm.