(Plus, they're afraid a lot of people have no idea who many music acts are. Older people don't recognize that skinny tattooed guy from the Purple 4 or whatever, while younger people wonder why their medicated grandparents are singing in front of surfboards.)
Of course, to be truly similar, they'd mouth the lesser dialogue (and possibly some of the main dialogue) to prerecorded tracks.
So does owning a dog.
I also think Enid rocks. Her messages were clear, polite and well-written, while displaying respect for the value of satire. Someone should give her a raise.
My first exhibition will be in an unused janitor's closet at the Brooklyn Museum, featuring entertainment by the cat who plays piano and Chet Haze.