DMB exists to provide "chill time" and a false sense of third-world earthiness (he's like, white, but African, yanno?) between Economics papers and/or Marketing Team meetings.
DMB is carefully formulated to be well-played and intricately composed while guaranteeing not to significantly challenge its listeners' musical expectations, social viewpoints, and hazy comfort beyond pot-laced commentary like ". . .man. . .that solo is fucking GENIUS!"
In short, DMB is the Kenny G of the Bonnaroo generation.
Girl A: I needs me an edumacation!
Girl D: Girl, have a baby. Yo man need to settle down anyway.
Girl A: Coo! Mo money and less him runnin round. I likes da soundsa dat! I gets my iPhone I call my boo on provided by da govt, Prada glasses provided by baby daddy (child supp), Coach purse provided by da school (grant/loan) . Nothin but the best, bitches! Haha!
Girl D: Buahahahaha!!
Thanks to the severely broken U.S. system; we have a booming generation of D.M.B.'s. Basically, idiots breeding idiots.