Can 30 Seconds to Mars Save Capitalism?

30 Seconds to Mars will once again be offering their extravagant VIP packages in 2018, and this has this not-at-all-facetious writer positively champing at the bit.

For the meagre offering of €850, you too could be graced by the presence of these three deities of culture, these bastions of sheer sonic perfection both privately, and on stage in front of thousands of other loyal subjects on their upcoming world tour (which includes a date at our very own SSE Hydro on March 25th). If that isn’t the sort of life-affirming event would make even the ovary-less amongst us ovulate, then frankly, I don’t know what is.

Does this alone not satisfy you? Do you not feel blessed by the mere suggestion? How about a couple of trinkets autographed by the godly trio into the bargain? And what’s more, you can cobble together the loose change from between your couch cushions to fund this negligible outlay in FOUR – yes – FOUR  instalments.

They’ve spent their careers saving music, and now, with a renewed flow of funds for further growth, 30STM are about to save free-market capitalism in the music industry, too. What’s that? You deem that logic to be flimsy? You must be one of these fiscally ignorant millennials I’ve heard so much about.

Similarly to their 2013 ‘Do or Die’ campaign, in which they made the most measly of requests to fans – a tattoo of the song’s title – for the chance of permanent immortalisation in music video form, us commoners are being offered the chance to ascend spiritually to levels we could previously only dream of. Quite frankly, who wouldn’t want the words of the lyrical miracle Leto himself, emblazoned upon their skin for the rest of their natural life?

Not unlike Leto’s sumptuous performance in the avant-garde masterpiece that was Suicide Squad – that drew ire only from the most artless, mono-cultured swines in the communism-rife wasteland that is our mainstream press – the reaction to this glorious news from the perpetually-offended, snowflake loyal has been predictably hysterical.

Exploitation? Greed? If that’s your take, then exploit me all the way to fucking Greedtown, sailor.

By David Flanigan