No; popular culture represents too wide a verse of arts - so far as one could call them that - that it seems unfair to dispose of everything associate with it. For instance: What is the difference between Muse and Miley Cyrus? They both tend toward the creation of certain sounds that a great many people offer the title "music," and therefore we might well call it "art," though to what degree of quality is as yet undetermined - and the thing they both have in common is there membership in the popular culture-verse. Is it no fair to look at the crowds of those who watch and listen and find that some like Muse than Miley, or Miley than Muse; and realize that perhaps there is a valuation process that man goes through when the senses are stimulated, different man to man; and - we might find this through simple evaluation - that what one person likes than what another person likes may be wholly dependent on their psycho-physiological situation? I think this is fair.
And furthermore, history - granted, depending on the historian - isn't just written at the whim of the historian; it's not decided just on their opinions. History is more so decided on the times; a looming zeitgeist that has people thrown into pangs of all the muses, in flux and always looking for something better and better to latch on to. To reiterate a previous question: Why might a generation reject a Salieri than a Mozart? Does one think that Salieri is better, even with hard study and scrutiny of both parties? No; as a musician, no. Mozart was just better at it: he did for music what Back did for music, what, later, Beethoven did for music: he freed some part of the spirit and rush of the times that nobody else, or few else, could do. Salieri wrote some nice operas, keyboard and chamber works, no doubt: but he could no latch onto anything new, anything profound - Salieri was too simple and sturdy for the revolutionary days that were rousing the hearts of Europeans everywhere.
Beethoven was a breaking point. And the people knew this in their day: we see this in the reviews of their works, in the diaries of those who were fortunate enough to have lived through those revolutionary times. Robert Schauffler called Beethoven, in his 1929 book, "The Man Who Freed Music." And that is certainly true - to an extent. There was an ever-growing atmosphere of change and growth, as there has ever been; though, there wasn't just that one point where everything suddenly snapped and gave way to a period of liberal arts rarely comparable in our history. The history of arts, rather, is one of growth and freedom: slowly, from, say, Palestrina to Bach to Mozart to Beethoven to Bizet to Wager to Mahler to Ravel to Schoenberg to Prokofiev to Shostakovitch to Rihm to whoever now, and all the intermediaries; we can spot and smell the intensity of appreciation that has grown over the centuries for music as a necessary part of life - as an art. And it is a great injustice to say, that because historians have focused on such figures as these, not to mention the many more popular musicians that came with (Johann Strauss II to The Beatles to Muse, etc.), that they must therefore be discounted as just those of historical application, or in another light, those of popular record. I hope you can realize their importance in finding a general - one might say, innate - interest in what these figures represent to the arts, to, specifically in this case, music.
And now: What does "art" have to offer? You bring us to this point. It seems that you have made a valuation on what ought to be considered good and bad art (or, as you say, "not art at all"). And this is entirely a human thing to do - which is something to consider when we look on these matters with scrutiny. - Something we need to look at first in art is its relationship to the rest of the world. What might be best to do is find what we mean when we say art:
There is a general consensus that I think would be silly to repudiate: that what is art is typically what one might find in an art museum of some kind, or a concert hall: a piece or work of some kind that represents, maybe symbolically, an emotional or social-political point, or something that "moves us," drives us to think and reflect, to feel what we wouldn't ordinarily. This varies person to person. And, as far as we can tell, this need to create things "beyond" ourselves, is something singular to our species.
This brings us to an interesting point. If it is a unique trait to us humans - as we can well assume - what can we say of the nature of its objectivity? Art has so far been something typically recognized as undefinable in any absolute way (Wittgenstein, for instance). This, I think, might be the result of a school's inheritance, an argumenta INCERTUM. And this I'm going to look beyond, seeing it as a wayward foreground problem; but rather to recognize a peculiar contradiction: that the objective nature of art lies in our subjective recognition of it. Consider this: if asked of all the people on earth, through enough education that they understand it to a proficient degree; if you had to choose, what would you rather live the rest of your life with: a tree house or a palace? the works of James Patterson or the works of Shakespeare? a kids doodles or the works of Monet? Most, through a fair vetting process, would vote for the latter of each question I would guess. And with this, we might, in the uniquely weird wont of our species, find that there is something very objective in how we see our arts: we recognize levels of depth, or substance, and put them on a tier. And generally from a surface look, one might find that, by its content, by its interest, there are works of art more wholly important and "transformative" than others: Shakespeare than...; Monet than...; Buckingham Palace than that flat I had to live in in college.
But this isn't to abolish the view that individual sentiments, or opinions, don't count. No; rather they are all the point to this discussion. The objective nature of art is in perpetual flux; it isn't fixed, as art is changing just as men are - and to what ends we can't be sure. But by the leavings of works man has found necessary to protect, and more strikingly, in many ways to replicate, we can find at least some point that, writhing through the different educations, self-educations, the different, abounding, and seemingly endless sensibilities we humans all entreat and live with, that there is no end to, at least now, what we may consider art to be. Though I would still insist on that previous thought experiment: what, after careful, hard reflection would you rather live with forever?
Further points to make to Apeman:
I strongly disapprove of you language when concerning the conscience of art, as I would call it. I think it is an erroneous prospect. "The quality of 'real' art does not exist within an era, a historical context nor any assimiltion of popular culture. It (the Art) does not care about its 'when' at all...even if it seems to illustrate a 'when'." The idea that art is something which gives consideration to itself seems silly. Rather it is the creation of us, and has its reality as art in us, where it doesn't in anything else. It's historical context is incredibly significant, as we are historical beings; that is, beings of self-reflection, beings of conscience who recognize the past efforts, the terrible and the good, of our kind.
When I say "inherited subjectivism," I'm rather talking about the nature of our reflection in art: it is as much biological as it is psychological, and therefore social-political: we are born with innate abilities, feelings, etc., and we are taught them as well (combine Plato's and Aristotle's views together and you might realize what I'm saying; or read the works of Antonio Damasio). Our recognition of art is something in development, just as art is.
I think you have come onto some odd understandings of what entertainment could be. One might say that something is entertaining, but not emotionally provoking. But this is ridiculous. In a concert - supposing one were interested and actually listening - one's entertainment is wholly dependent on its ability to agitate the senses, to rouse conflict sensibilities. It verily has "function," and provides, perhaps uniquely to every piece, a "pleasure" of some kind, and, supposing it in the end has one reflect into a state of comfort, a catharsis, a joy of sorts. And who is to say further that that experience wasn't at all "thrilling" at the same time? It is all of these things - supposing one listened.
I agree with you in part, that aesthetics, or philosophy generally - critical thinking, reflection - are all part of one primary subject: beauty. I do think, though, that art is something secluded, singular, sui generis; that art is specifically a creation of man to show what is beyond himself, to have him reflect, to console him in such a way that, at the depths of tragedy, and the further depths of comedy, one is never brought out of a state of tremendous laughter, no matter how muted; that it is a device to save us from the chaos we so well see and try to dim; something that, conversely, we use to rid ourselves of the burdens of our more bestial impulses, a Soma of our conscience.
"By a sarcasm of law and phrase they were freemen." - Mark Twain