We smell condescension?

I just read an interview with a man who is arguably "the most widely sung liturgical composer today." (What is arguable is whether most of his oeuvre is "liturgical" music.

This quote is parody in and of itself:

I was struck during that service by ... how poorly written the psalm setting was. It was awful. I thought to myself—I could write this badly!

Ladies and gentlemen, make up your own punchline.

So in honour of this remarkably ingenuous bit of truth-telling, another song parody: unsure of the source... but I know how the author feels. (I used to cut and paste and save without noting the URL, and now would be hard pressed to verify much of what I thought was valuable or interesting. It's not from the Moratorium site. Ah well...)
To the tune, (not noted, but one needs no confirmation,) of "Gather Us In."

1.Here in this place, music is droning
Here, prayerful silence vanished away.
Hear in this space, the very walls groaning,
Echoing back that insipid cliche.

Plodding along, its tune uninspired
Its rhythms monot'nous, dogmas obtuse,
It's harm'nies simplistic, (its singular virtue?
No chance for that cantor to really cut loose.)

2.We are the young, we smell condescension,
We are the old, our needs are ignored,
Peering, we note, with sad comprehension
Ev'ry PIP seems either angered or bored.

Please, not that song! we've heard it too often.
Please, not that song! It's nothing but drek.
St Peter's barque, on swells of Art once borne,
Om'nously, now's headed straight for a wreck.

3.Lyrics profound once prevailed at the altar
Poets and mystics, each did his part,
Words of such grace, from Office or Psalter
Pinnacle of the hymnographer's art.

Once there was verse by Bede, odes of Ambrose,
Phrases from Faber, Aquinas and Neale,
Know'ng as "orandi," so followed, "credendi,"
What matter's what we believe, not what we "feel."

4.Enrobing these prayers? their musical mantle?
First there was chant, transcendant and true;
Then came the Byrds, Palestrinas, and Bruckners,
Tallises, Mozarts... a Haydn or two.

And good, homely tunes, true voice of the people;
Sturdy, much loved, authentically "folk."
Now we're reduced to pedestrian pablum,
Mass-produced pop tunes, an over-hyped joke.

5.How can this stuff, drawn from the dread "Gather,"
Worthily bear heart-felt praise to the Lord?
How can this prattle, this yammering blather,
Suitably clothe prayer to Him, most adored?

Wait just a mo'! Is that their intention?
Ignore the One Godhead, in Persons Three?
Honoring 'stead, a quite different "person,"
The FIRST person, plural? Yes, us, ourselves, we!

6.Down with this dogg'rel shaped by committee!
Trite ditties penned by purveyors of shlock!
Ye hucksters a-hawking soul-sapping songbooks:
The Sacred Restored will no doubt be a shock.

For breaks a new dawn! let new songs be sung now,
New but organic, "in tune" with the past!
Soon, true reform, so thirsted, so longed for!
Our "desert" of forty years ending at last.