Aural Fixation: More Essays from a Musical ObsessiveAvailable at Amazon for $9.95. This sequel to No One Needs 21 Versions of “Purple Haze” trots out another collection of music-themed essays, this time as originally featured in the PopMatters.com column “Aural Fixation.” Essays take on the Grammys, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, Glee, terrestrial radio, Tom Cruise, and the state of the music industry, often voicing a contrary opinion to the all-too-common laments of the typical music critic. Whitaker asserts that rock and roll isn’t dead, that pop music matters, and that best-of lists are a good thing. 146 pages. Published 2015. |  |
DavesMusicDatabase.com is devoted to ranking, rating, and reviewing music of all genres and eras. The DMDB blog serves up album and song reviews, best-of lists, music history snapshots, and music-related essays.
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Showing posts with label Pop Matters. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pop Matters. Show all posts
Friday, April 24, 2015
Aural Fixation: The Newest Book from Dave's Music Database
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
What James Bond Can’t Teach You About British Music History
Originally published in my "Aural Fixation" column on PopMatters.com on January 30, 2013. See original post here.
If you want lessons in womanizing, dressing to the nines, or ordering martinis, James Bond is your man. If, however, you’re looking for a review of British music history over the last 50 years, the world’s favorite secret agent has no idea what he’s doing.
Oscar nominations were announced in early January and, to no one’s surprise, they jumped on the “let’s give Adele a shot at another trophy” bandwagon. Even if the Academy doesn’t follow the Golden Globes’ lead and gift “Skyfall” with the prize for Best Original Song, the movie of the same name has already won. The 23rd film in the James Bond series is also its biggest grosser (“Billion Dollar Bond: ‘Skyfall’ Crossed $1 Billion Milestone”, ABC News, 30 December 2012). Even before Bond burst into billion-dollar territory, the franchise had been called, depending on how one crunches the numbers, the most successful of all time (“The Biggest Movie Franchises of All Time in 2 Charts,” The Atlantic, 19 July 2012).
If you want lessons in womanizing, dressing to the nines, or ordering martinis, James Bond is your man. If, however, you’re looking for a review of British music history over the last 50 years, the world’s favorite secret agent has no idea what he’s doing.
Oscar nominations were announced in early January and, to no one’s surprise, they jumped on the “let’s give Adele a shot at another trophy” bandwagon. Even if the Academy doesn’t follow the Golden Globes’ lead and gift “Skyfall” with the prize for Best Original Song, the movie of the same name has already won. The 23rd film in the James Bond series is also its biggest grosser (“Billion Dollar Bond: ‘Skyfall’ Crossed $1 Billion Milestone”, ABC News, 30 December 2012). Even before Bond burst into billion-dollar territory, the franchise had been called, depending on how one crunches the numbers, the most successful of all time (“The Biggest Movie Franchises of All Time in 2 Charts,” The Atlantic, 19 July 2012).
The songs accompanying these blockbusters have often been hits as well. Roughly half have gone top ten in the US or UK. A handful, including “Skyfall”, have done it on both sides of the Atlantic.
Don’t, however, let the hit status of these songs fool you. Everyone’s favorite British Secret Service employee may be a complete original, but when it comes to literally marching to his own drummer, his ability to rock a tux does not mean he knows how to rock your radio.
The relative “it” factor and success of “Skyfall” aside, most of the 007 themes over the years reveal an institution largely determined to ignore musical trends in favor of saccharine ballads to pipe into elevators. No, I’m not talking about the Grammy Awards committee (often famously derided as “the Grannies”), although there are alarming similarities.
Let’s rewind half a century to October 1962. The first James Bond film, Dr. No, opened in the UK Sean Connery took on the role of the famous secret agent created in a series of novels by Ian Fleming. The character’s look, uncanny knack with women, and mastery of whatever new-fangled technology came his way made him one of cinema’s greatest icons.
Sean Connery, image from myetvmedia.com
However, one icon was a gang of hippies with mop-top hair who made beatnik music for teeny-boppers. The other icon looked dressed and groomed for, well, a Grammy ceremony.
Naturally, the tuxedoed gent’s musical tastes aligned pretty well with his well-dressed Grammy brethren. While American radio and retail was being reinvented by the Beatle-led British Invasion, Grammy love was doled out to throwbacks like Frank Sinatra and Louis Armstrong. Meanwhile, 007 themes were crooned by people like Frank Sinatra-soundalike Matt Monro (“From Russia with Love” from 1963’s film of the same name) and, well, Louis Armstrong (“We Have All the Time in the World” from 1969’s Her Majesty’s Secret Service).
Oh, both institutions acknowledged Paul McCartney and Co., but they were cases of either too little (the handful of Grammys the Beatles did receive) or too late (Paul’s other band, Wings, recorded the title song to 1973’s Live and Let Die).
Roger Moore, image from malialitman.wordpress.com
Even as Bond refused to change, the music of the ‘80s was in constant motion. The punk movement transformed into new wave which in turn fueled the Second British Invasion as synth-driven British bands flooded the living rooms of American teens desperate for music videos. The fledging network MTV built its platform on a steady reservoir of the promo clips popular on British music shows. Bands with big hair, bold clothing, and behemoth-sized personalities relished in the new-found attention.
Even a man who dressed primarily in black was enamored by the bright colors. MTV favorites Duran Duran were tapped in 1985 to record the title song for “A View to a Kill”. It remains the only 007 tune to hit number one stateside or across the pond.
While Bond got another makeover, first with Timothy Dalton for a couple outings and then with Pierce Brosnan, there was no changing the outdated musical tastes of England’s famous fictional spy. British bands The Smiths, The Cure, and Depeche Mode forged the template for college rock. By decade’s end the Stone Roses and Happy Mondays were the darlings of the music press, praised for trumpeting the shoegazing genre. This led to the much-ballyhooed battle of the guitar-based bands Oasis and Blur in the mid-‘90s. With such a plethora of game-changing sound at their disposal, the brains behind Bond turned to a stable of proven US chart veterans like Gladys Knight, Tina Turner, and Sheryl Crow who all proved woefully incapable of tackling the US charts.
Pierce Brosnan, image from bornrich.com
Daniel Craig stepped in as the series’ seventh 007, if one counts David Niven’s comic turn in the 1967 spoof Casino Royale. To accompany the reboot, Chris Cornell delivered “You Know My Name” for the 2006 version of Casino Royale and Jack White served up “Another Way to Die” (with an assist from Alicia Keys) for 2008’s Quantum of Solace.
Daniel Craig, image from geekynerfherder.blogspot.com
The world’s top gadget freak wasn’t just abandoning his own country’s music, but jumping on musical trends a decade late. As the frontman of Soundgarden, Cornell had been right at the forefront of the grunge a decade earlier. As half of The White Stripes, Jack White was arguably the biggest star of the return-to-garage-rock movement at the turn of the century.
Still, Daniel Craig’s Bond Version 7.0 offered hope. This wasn’t the same secret agent we’d come to know through more than 20 movies. Maybe he could jump off buildings and into moving helicopters backed by music lifted straight from BBC Radio 1. It took 50 years, but by tapping Adele for “Skyfall” the Bond series finally picked a song by a British superstar actually at the cusp of a movement. Thanks to Adele and predecessors like Amy Winehouse, Joss Stone, and Duffy, the Brits were right smack in the heart of an English blue-eyed soul singer era which would have made Dusty Springfield proud.
We’ll see what happens next time out. One good song choice does not a new direction make, but I’m crossing my fingers. Maybe the Bond tunesmiths will reshape history and craft the songs they should have made in past outings. Personally, I’m hoping for a Sex Pistols reunion in which they re-record “God Save the Queen” infused with a dose of John Barry’s famous instrumental 007 theme. The movie can open with Bond and the Queen of England landing a helicopter at the Olympics in London. Hey, stranger things have happened.
Monday, April 2, 2012
When Politicians Hit Wrong Notes
Originally published in my "Aural Fixation" column on PopMatters.com on April 2, 2012. See original post here.
With the arrival of Bruce Springsteen’s Wrecking Ball, released 6 March, I was psyched to pen an article advocating we all bow down to the altar of Bruce as the mouthpiece for what ails the average American. However, after reading multiple reviews framing it as “the album for the Occupy Movement”, the idea felt as clichéd as describing early R.E.M. as “jangly” or double albums as “sprawling”.
image from popmatters.com
From Reagan in the '80s to Limbaugh in 2012, Republicans have an uncanny knack for linking themselves to musicians who don’t support them. Just ask Bruce Springsteen, Tom Petty, and John Mellencamp.
With the arrival of Bruce Springsteen’s Wrecking Ball, released 6 March, I was psyched to pen an article advocating we all bow down to the altar of Bruce as the mouthpiece for what ails the average American. However, after reading multiple reviews framing it as “the album for the Occupy Movement”, the idea felt as clichéd as describing early R.E.M. as “jangly” or double albums as “sprawling”.
It’s difficult to write about a musician so universally loved he rarely courts controversy. With few exceptions, Springsteen’s critical acclaim and public appeal throughout his career make a mockery of even the best politicians’ poll numbers. His celebration of the blue collar work ethic in the context of “the runaway American dream” make The Boss the unofficial leader of Every Man, everywhere.
Besides, there’s a more fascinating story than Bruce, à la the ghost of Woody Guthrie, reminding us that times are tough, again, because of greedy money-grubbing power brokers, again. Musicians are lining up left and right – well, lining up on the left and against the right – to make sure they aren’t associated with Wall Street and certain politicians.
The GOP isn’t unique in the art of foot-in-mouth disease, but 2012 is proving a banner year for the party with the pachyderm mascot to wade knee-deep in elephant dung. The Republicans just can’t stop picking campaign songs without first securing the rights. Candidates are supposed to get permission from ASCAP (American Society of Composers, Authors and Publishers) to use copyrighted music in any kind of public performance. However, the Grand Old Party seems to have developed a Grand Old Tradition of failing to do so – or at least, failing make sure the act they’re playing is actually on board with the politician.
This classic stumble can be traced back to 1984. When President Ronald Reagan was running for re-election, he cited Bruce Springsteen as representative of the American dream. What he failed to realize is that “Born in the U.S.A.”, Springsteen’s hit at the time, was not a flag-waving anthem but a seething attack on the poor treatment received by Vietnam veterans when they came home. Oops.
On the flip side, when running for President in 2004, John Kerry tapped Springsteen’s “No Surrender” and Barack Obama used “The Rising” in 2008 and neither suffered any fall out. Perhaps Republican candidates’ constant desire to align themselves with St. Reagan has inspired them to even repeat his gaffes. Newt Gingrich lost the “eye of the tiger” he had just weeks ago that would have allowed him to survive until November. While songwriter Jim Peterik okayed Newt using Survivor’s “Eye of the Tiger”, co-writer Frank Sullivan filed suit for the song being used without permission.
Similarly, when Michele Bachman was still a candidate back in June, Tom Petty’s camp sent a nice little cease-and-desist letter regarding the use of “American Girl”. She should have taken a lesson from the other side of the aisle. Hillary Rodham Clinton did have permission to use the song when she sought the Presidential nomination in 2008.
Tom Petty vs. Michele Bachman, image from Spinner.com
Petty also took action when George W. Bush used “I Won’t Back Down” in the 2000 race. In an apparent attempt to lose the classic rock vote, Bush also miffed Sting and John Mellencamp when he used “Brand New Day” and “R.O.C.K. in the U.S.A.”, respectively. In 2008, the rocker from Indiana also offered up a “nay” vote to the Senator from Arizona. In John McCain’s Presidential bid, he played Mellencamp’s “Pink Houses” and “Our Country” without approval.
It isn’t that these artists object to their music being used for anything more than “artistic purposes”. Sting and Mellencamp both sold songs for commercials hawking cars and trucks. However, both artists made their political affiliations clear were when they authorized those same songs to Al Gore in 2000 and John Edwards in 2008.
In 2008, McCain seemed determined to align the GOP with AOR (album-oriented rock). However, he not only failed to get Mellencamp’s vote, but got the Foo Fighters and Jackson Browne squarely against him, as well. Ironically, McCain tried to use Browne’s “Running on Empty” as a commentary on Obama’s campaign, but we know who came up empty on that one.
McCain’s VP candidate, Sarah Palin, took the stage at the Republican National Convention to Heart’s “Barracuda”. It may have been her nickname as a basketball player in high school, but instead of cheering for her on the sidelines, Heart’s Ann and Nancy Wilson blew the whistle and called foul.
I don’t deny there are ample bone-headed errors from both sides of the political fence. When it comes to politicians associating themselves with music, though, the Republican party has a runaway lead on hitting sour notes.
Current events have shown a need to reign in their mouthpieces, as well. The recent fracas surrounding radio talk show host Rush Limbaugh and his attack on Sandra Fluke demonstrates rock ‘n’ rollers will run away in droves from controversial pundits with equal speed as they will politicians. Peter Gabriel laid the hammer down on Rush for soundtracking his sludge with Gabriel’s “Sledgehammer”.
The spirits of Canadian rock band Rush nosedived when they learned their song “The Spirit of Radio” provided the lead-in for commercial breaks on Limbaugh’s show. Anyone with the decency to find Rush the Man’s antics offensive has to chuckle when even Rush the Band doesn’t want to be associated with that name. At this point, “Slut” would be a more acceptable band name.
image from isorski.blogspot.com
Artists like Springsteen and Mellencamp have made their political positions well known and have used their own music to make political statements. Musicians have a rich history of crafting music with social and political commentary. Entire genres, such as folk, punk, and rap have grown out of musicians railing against the destruction the establishment has wrought.
Detractors whine that music with a message oversteps the role these entertainers have earned with their public platforms. Frankly, I get excited when I see artists making bold statements that challenge the status quo. As for their qualifications, I was unaware one had to be authorized to express an opinion.
Similarly, politicians are certainly allowed their opinions – and can attempt to tie their images to any musicians they wish. Regardless of what political stance an artist may (or may not) take, all listeners are welcome. Young Republicans for Mellencamp have every right to like the music they like. I’m sure John is happy to sell records no matter who buys them.
However, here’s a memo to the GOP candidates from this year and years to come: Please, learn from your party’s past mistakes. Before you start blaring the latest pop ditty with a fighting spirit or patriotic bent from the speakers at your rally, ask permission.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Making a List and Checking It Twice
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Originally published in my "Aural Fixation" column on PopMatters.com on Nov. 23, 2011. See original post here.
 image from popmatters.com In the world of music fanaticism, the last month of the year is a time for 1) gathering the overlooked goodies of the last eleven months and 2) ranking, rating, and reviewing said releases ad infinitum in year-end best-of lists. For such aficionados, December is all about summing up the sounds of the year gone by. While Santa loads his sleigh with goodies, editors of every music mag known to mankind pack year-end magazine issues with plenty of treats. List junkies can expect their own fix for such addictions right here at PopMatters as guide you in their own trip down 2011 Memory Lane.
 image from innovativeinteractivity.com My particular insatiable urge for consuming and crafting lists has caused me to pollute the ‘net with a website, blog, and a Facebook page all devoted to music lists. All right, kiddos, settle in with your hot cocoa and egg nog and I’ll tell you a little story. It began in September 1982. My local Top 40 radio station did a Labor Day weekend countdown of the biggest hits of the summer. I was inspired to scrawl my own list of favorites. I’m not convinced confession is entirely good for the soul – it certainly won’t boost my credibility – but I’ll admit that “soft rock” populated my list at that time. While my peers were spiking their hair to look like their latest MTV favorites, I spent the early part of my rebellious teen years headbanging to Neil Diamond, Barry Manilow, Olivia Newton-John, and Air Supply. |
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My initial “Super 70” list (that’s how many lines a sheet of notebook paper sported, front and back) ballooned into a weekly endeavor maintained over a dozen years. While my charts would never interest anyone else, they documented my musical journey from adolescence through young adulthood. Before I exited high school, my tastes gravitated to the arena rock of Styx, Journey, and Foreigner. College afforded me chances to dig into classic rock stalwarts like Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones, and Rush as well as alternative fare like Squeeze and the Violent Femmes.
 Then my tastes went more toward arena rock. Some view institutes of higher learning as the place to educate one’s self on how best to get laid, get drunk, or get high. Some freaks out there consider it a place to get an education. For me, the university was the place to get more music. More than once, I hauled an armload of borrowed tapes from someone’s dorm room just minutes after meeting them. However, music magazines and lists opened my ears to sounds beyond what blared from my mere dorm mates’ speakers. I made weekly excursions to the library to pore over Billboard magazine, the American king of charts. I regularly dove into issues of Rolling Stone, Q, New Musical Express, Spin, Blender, Melody Maker, and other tunefully-themed rags. As anyone knows who’s ever perused these publications, they regularly practice one-upmanship in trying to trump each other with the latest biggest and best-of-all time lists of anything noise-related.
  
Lists, however, are a polarizing thing. With the exception of Justin Bieber, there may not be anything in the music community which simultaneously disgusts and delights so many. Detractors whine about what is included or excluded. Elitists argue that lists devalue artistic accomplishments via subjective rankings. The love-hate relationship fans have with lists is readily apparent with even a minimum of online browsing. Find a list on the Internet about, say, the best guitarists of all time. Scroll down to the comments section and you can bet it will be littered with insightful observations such as “This list sucks” or “How the hell is so-and-so only ranked #58?” List bashers fail to recognize three things:1) a list is one person’s opinion (or a group consensus of multiple opinions collected under the banner of a specific publication); 2) there is a 100 percent guarantee that the list in question will not match the list basher’s personal tastes, and’ 3) IT’S A LIST. Relax. Now, to be clear, I am not suggesting refraining from voicing contrary opinions. Far from it. Some of those who’ve lobbed the harshest criticism at my lists have earned my greatest respect. Why? Because they were informed opinions which challenged me to either justify my point of view or rethink it. Healthy debate is a good thing. Venting ferociously about the moronic quality of the list maker is as productive as flipping the bird at someone who cuts you off in traffic.
As for those who roll their eyes at the value of lists, I argue that lists offer musical history snapshots for those willing to do the homework. One of the earliest lists to reel me in was a book – The Heart of Rock and Soul: The 1001 Greatest Singles Ever Made (1989). The author, rock critic Dave Marsh, plugged obvious classics like like Marvin Gaye’s “I Heard It Through the Grapevine”, The Rolling Stones’ “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction”, and Bob Dylan’s “Like a Rolling Stone”. However, he also turned me on to unknown gems like Little Willie John’s “Need Your Love So Bad”, Clarence Carter’s “At the Dark End of the Street”, and Grandmaster Flash & the Furious Five’s “The Message”.
Would I have discovered classics like this without lists? This was the real point. Seeking out and falling in love with that song at #68 which the reader had never heard becomes the justification for a list’s existence. Lists operate on the same plane as compilation albums. Album purists bash such collections as misrepresentations of an artists’ work, but anthologies are often a casual fan’s first dip of the toe into the artist’s greater pool of work, prompting the listener to dive deeper. I didn’t learn about the Velvet Underground, Joy Division, Gram Parsons, Television, Love, the New York Dolls, or Big Star because friends spun them at parties. I learned about them because music critics hyped them in best-of lists. When the names cropped up enough, I felt obligated to check them out. So this holiday season, as you sing your ancient yuletide carols and curl up with your iPod in front of the chestnuts roasting on the open fire, try embracing the holiday spirit. At least remember Mom’s advice: “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.” Remember the Bearded Guy in Red is watching and knows if you’ve been good or bad. If you’d rather have the Black Keys’ new album in your stocking than a lump of black coal, then be good for goodness’ sake. By the way, if the holiday spirit has left you with an urge to shower me with gifts, there’s no need to buy anything for me but you can head over to DavesMusicDatabase.com or Amazon.com and pick up No One Needs 21 Versions of Purple Haze or The Top 100 Songs of the Rock Era 1954-1999 for that music fanatic on your shopping list. I’d also light up like a Christmas tree if you hit my blog a couple hundred times and left comments. Make sure to check out the index of Best-of Lists on the blog. These last two shameless plugs are brought to you by… well, me. Happy holidays. |
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Rock and Roll Hall of Fame or Shame?
Originally published in my "Aural Fixation" column on PopMatters.com on Nov. 1, 2011. See original post here.
The Hall is too focused on non-rock acts.
The Hall has a beef with KISS.
The Hall is anti-prog rock.
The Hall is just a bunch of snobs who vote in who they like.
So how could these problems be fixed? The Hall needs to stop trying to create rock history in its myopic image. Acknowledge that rock ‘n’ roll has, first and foremost, been an art form that grew out of a rebellious spirit which gained mass appeal, but was rarely praised as a legitimate art form.
image from photobucket.com
With the new slate of Hall of Fame hopefuls comes another tradition dating to the inaugural class of 1986 – the annual grousing about who didn’t make the cut. Just check out the Hall’s Facebook page. Regardless of the nature of the post, the follow-up comments are often littered with fan complaints about their favorites being overlooked.
I’m not claiming to be above such pettiness. I scrawled two blog entries on the subject – one entitled And This Year’s Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Nominees Are… and the other was called And This Year’s Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Nominees Should Be….
However, it’s worth asking how often a complaint must be voiced before it becomes a legitimate concern and not just mass whining. Is there any actual evidence that the complaints lodged at the Hall have any merit? Let’s break down a few of the most common accusations.
The Hall is too focused on non-rock acts.
The Hall’s website declares that an act up for consideration should have “demonstrated unquestionable musical excellence” and that factors including “an artist’s musical influence on other artists, length and depth of career and the body of work, innovation and superiority in style and technique, but musical excellence shall be the essential qualification of induction” (Rockhall.com, Induction Process/Eligibility).
Reread those requirements all you want, but the words “rock ‘n’ roll” don’t make an appearance in the eligibility requirements. Call me silly, but having something to do with rock ‘n’ roll ought to be pretty integral. Certainly many genres have been hugely influential in shaping rock music. In its first three years, the Hall enshrined significant acts from R&B (James Brown, Ray Charles, Aretha Franklin, Marvin Gaye, Louis Jordan), the blues (Robert Johnson, B.B. King, Muddy Waters), country (Jimmie Rodgers, Hank Williams), and folk (Woody Guthrie, Lead Belly). Excluding any of these performers would be laughable.
However, at Chicagoland Radio and Media.com, blogger Larz lists more than 40 inductees who, while potentially deserving of induction in Halls of fame for soul, R&B, gospel, doo-wop, rap/hip-hop, and jazz, don’t fit under the banner of rock music (23 November 2010). Recent years have seen the induction of Abba (disco), Little Anthony & the Imperials (R&B), Jimmy Cliff (reggae), and Run-D.M.C. (rap). While arguments can be made about all of those acts’ importance, how does the Hall justify inducting them before rock icons like KISS, Deep Purple, Rush, and Yes?
The Hall has a beef with KISS.
No band’s omission has sparked more public outcry. Gene Simmons, the band’s co-founder, has joked about being snubbed. “There are disco bands, rap bands, Yiddish folk song bands in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, but not KISS.” Danny Goldberg, a former publicist for the group, says “It’s hard for me to understand what definition of rock and roll…would exclude KISS.” (cityscoopsny.com, Why the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame Misses the Point About Rock & Roll, by Larry Getlen, 2009).
Still, there isn’t an actual conspiracy, is there? Well, consider this comment from Dave Marsh, a critic, co-founder of Creem magazine, and writer for Rolling Stone, who is also on the Hall’s nominating committee (see complete list at FutureRockLegends.com, The Rock & Roll Hall of Fame Nominating Committee (2011 edition)). Getlen’s article quoted him saying, “Kiss will never be a great band, and I have done my share to keep them off the ballot.”
The Hall is anti-prog rock.
Goldmine magazine asserts that of roughly 260 Hall inductees, only Pink Floyd, Genesis, and Traffic could be considered progressive rock – about on percent of inductees (Phil Marder, Goldmine Rock Hall of Fame Stop Saying ‘No’ to Yes, 2011). In its ranking of acts most deserving of induction, Notinhalloffame.com includes five proggy faves in its top 50: Rush (#1), Jethro Tull (11), Yes (28), The Moody Blues (34), and King Crimson (37). If a band has ever done a thematic album, written a song longer than eight minutes, or dared to merge classical with rock music, it’s a safe bet they won’t have to prepare any induction speeches.
Scot McFayden, who co-directed Rush: Beyond the Lighted Stage, says of his documentary subject, “They’ve never been a critics’ band… Rush has never been cool enough for [the Hall].” (Simon Vozick-Levinson, cityscoopsny.com, Rush documentary director on their latest Rock and Roll Hall of Fame snub: ‘It’s unfortunate’, 2010).
...just not at the Hall.
The Hall is just a bunch of snobs who vote in who they like.
Marsh’s snobbish anti-KISS stance doesn’t help the assumption that music critics have disdain for anything commercially successful. Don Kirshner, a music industry vet and creator of The Monkees, called the Hall a “millionaire’s coffee club” (Getlen). That same article asserts that politics are definitely at play with some artists selected because of affiliations with the committee while others are shot down because they’ve crossed someone.
This also brings up the frequent attacks on Jann Wenner, the Rolling Stone magazine publisher who was one of Rock and Roll Hall of Fame founders. The aforementioned “Rock and Roll Hall of Shame” article accuses Wenner of ignoring and snubbing many deserving artists – including The Monkees and Chicago specifically – and genres such as ‘70s progressive rock and arena rock. Meanwhile, he lobbies for the music he personally favors which includes ‘50s New York doo-wop, ‘50s female vocalists, ‘60s soul, Motown, and old-school hip-hop. Take a gander at the list of inductees. It’s loaded with Wenner’s faves, but very little of his dislikes.
If the Hall of Fame won't see, hear, or speak of the Monkees,
does that mean they don't exist?
So how could these problems be fixed? The Hall needs to stop trying to create rock history in its myopic image. Acknowledge that rock ‘n’ roll has, first and foremost, been an art form that grew out of a rebellious spirit which gained mass appeal, but was rarely praised as a legitimate art form.
As for active changes, in his Village Voice article, “How to Fix the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame” (3/9/2010), Jason Gross advocates an expansion of the nominee and inductee list, a wider voter pool, and complete disclosure about the identities of who is voting.
I suggest the Hall open up one slot of its 15 nominees to the public. Let everyday music fans decide on at least one entrant on the ballot. Then we’ll see if the voting body of 500+ music experts backs up those biases or not.
Assuming that the Hall isn’t waiting with bated breath for my suggested fixes, let’s also adopt another attitude. For those bent on rechristening the institution the “Rock and Roll Hall of Shame”, lighten up. Over the years, plenty of worthy bands initially overlooked eventually got in.
Also recognize that personal favorites are just that. Look, I’ll begrudgingly confess to Styx being my favorite band as a kid. It doesn’t mean they deserve induction just because I liked them.
As for bands like KISS who have a huge push for induction, consider this: they have gained more publicity by not getting in. Sure, it will look awfully silly if Rufus gets inducted this year while Rush sit at home. KISS fans may deck themselves out in makeup and protest in front of the museum in Cleveland.
However, rock ‘n’ roll isn’t about attending a fancy dinner, putting on a tux, giving an acceptance speech, and hoisting a trophy in the air. Save that for the Oscars. I want my rockers wardrobed in over-the-top stage outfits or dirty jeans and T-shirts. I want them to scream out songs about sex, drugs, cars, and bizarre sci-fi fantasies. I want drummers who brutalize their kits and guitarists who wail on their axes.
After all, regardless of what the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame says, which of these would you call rock ‘n’ roll? Neil Diamond playing “Sweet Caroline” at his induction last year or KISS performing “Rock and Roll All Night”?
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Was Grunge the Last American Musical Revolution?
Originally published in my "Aural Fixation" column on PopMatters.com on Oct. 4, 2011. See original post here.
image from cutcaster.com
To borrow a phrase from my kids’ favorite cartoon, Phineas and Ferb, “Why, yes. Yes it was.” While music constantly evolves, every generation since the beginning of recorded music has introduced a game-changing genre. Until now.
Ragtime was the popular style of choice at the onset of the 1900s. It eventually gave way to jazz. The Swing Era in the ‘30s transformed into the Sing Era in the ‘40s. Rock ‘n’ roll altered the musical landscape in the ‘50s and punk and grunge emerged in the ‘70s and ‘90s as evidence that rock wasn’t dead.
This month marks the 20th anniversary of what has been called the Year of Grunge. The year 1991 saw the releases of Nirvana’s Nevermind and Pearl Jam’s Ten. Those albums put Seattle on the musical map and flannel and army boots in every sullen American teen’s wardrobe. Adolescent angst was back in vogue and came soundtracked with a brand new anthem, “Smells Like Teen Spirit”.
Of course, Nirvana and Pearl Jam would acknowledge that they no more birthed grunge than any other genre’s tent pole artists invented their respective forms of music. Grunge offered plenty of contemporaries with which to share credit. Soundgarden, Alice in Chains, Mother Love Bone, Mudhoney, and the Screaming Trees are among the most frequently cited.
It isn’t just that multiple artists fell under the grunge banner. There were also a slew of predecessors who laid the groundwork. Analyze the alternative rock and indie scene of the late ‘80s and one can see the seeds of grunge being sown. Rewind another decade and it becomes clear how much grunge was really just recycled punk.
In fact, the flagship grunge and punk groups – Nirvana and the Sex Pistols – share more than a few similarities. Both grew out of eras when disenfranchised youth were tired of pop radio and music journalists were fond of writing articles sounding rock ‘n’ roll’s death knell.
The Sex Pistols emerged from the gloomy rain-soaked London scene in 1975 while Nirvana surfaced from the gloomy rain-soaked Seattle scene from the late ‘80s. Both groups exploded after signing with major labels and releasing hugely successful and rebellious singles – “Anarchy in the U.K.” for the Pistols and “Smells Like Teen Spirit” for Nirvana.
They were also fronted by oversized personalities that aggressively railed against the frustrations of their generations, even if the establishment was less than overjoyed. Then again, joy didn’t enter the picture for the bands, either. Nirvana’s Kurt Cobain and the Pistols’ Johnny Rotten were troubled, angry young men who found no peace with their bands’ phenomenal successes and the greater audience upon which it afforded them opportunities to spew their venom.
Strong, destructive personalities brought about quick demises for both bands which roughly coincided with the lifespans of their respective genres. Cobain and the Pistols’ Sid Vicious suffered from heroin addiction, drug overdoses, and volatile relationships. Sid was charged with murdering girlfriend Nancy Spungen before his own death in 1979 which some call an overdose and others call a suicide. In 1994, Cobain’s suicide had conspiracy theorists insisting that his wife Courtney Love had him killed.
Parallels can also be drawn between the genres’ runner-ups – Pearl Jam and The Clash. These bands also claimed lots of attention in the spotlight, but less than their genre’s flag bearers. Both bands survived beyond their genres’ peaks and gained reputations for political activism within and beyond their music.
Of course, punk and grunge also grew out of similar circumstances. The bands tapped into teen’s frustration with the nation’s political climates which had left them feeling downtrodden. They were also responses to the by-the-numbers dance pop which ruled radio.
Both genres were embraced as back-to-basics rock ‘n’ roll bands which reminded the public that the music was supposed to be raw and raunchy. They were responses to bloated and over-the-top rock which, either took itself too seriously – such as progressive rock in the ‘70s, or not seriously enough – like the hair bands of the ‘80s. Performances were about frontmen who screamed and jumped around on stage and musicians who thrashed wildly on their instruments.
Of course, just as grunge was really just punk mixed with a dose of heavy metal, punk was largely a return to garage rock. In reality, every “new” genre of music is really a reshaping of the previous generation’s music. Every decade’s new batch of teens seeks out a way to distance themselves from the status quo with a new sound – one which the elders don’t understand and turn up their noses at, saying “this isn’t music.”
However, the 20th anniversary of grunge is an uncomfortable reminder that music hasn’t given us anything “new” on such a grand scale since then. This generation still awaits its musical revolution.
We have, however, experienced one of recorded music’s greatest revolutions in regards to how music is delivered and marketed. The beginning of the 20th century saw sheet music and piano rolls. The phonograph forever changed music in that it now became about hearing actual performances from artists. Over the decades, radio, juke boxes, eight track and cassette tapes, and compact discs all played important roles in letting the music reach the masses.
However, none of those forms had the reach and impact of the Internet. In just over ten years, the way people access music has been permanently altered – for better or worse. A few clicks of the mouse or one’s mobile phone and any song imaginable is there for the listeners’ pleasure. However, much to the chagrin of the record companies, illegal downloads have ravaged their business while also giving consumers more control than ever before.
Perhaps it’s precisely because of the digital revolution that we have not seen a generation-defining genre since grunge. For one genre to so completely saturate the market requires, well, a music industry with immense control over the market. Has downloading destroyed the hope for any new genre domination? I hope not. I’d like to think that in a small club in some metropolitan area there’s a local band slogging it out that’s destined to get music journalists salivating. The magazine headlines will boldly ask “Are they the next big thing?” and hopefully we can respond that, “Yes. Yes they are.”
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Rock 'n' Roll 101: How to Handle a Dead Star
Originally published in my "Aural Fixation" column on PopMatters.com on Aug. 25, 2011. See original post here.
image from popmatters.com
April 10, 1994 was my 27th birthday. That same week my generation’s greatest musical icon – Nirvana’s Kurt Cobain – ended his life with the same number of candles on his recent birthday cake. The music press went into high gear reporting the shock of Cobain’s tragic ending while simultaneously reflecting on its inevitability. After all, he was a troubled soul with a history of substance abuse, failed rehab stints, overdoses, and suicide attempts.
It didn’t take long before finger pointing began. In their grief, family, friends, and fans were reluctant to accept that their loved one died by his own hand. It was easier to blame someone else. Cobain’s marriage to Courtney Love was less than idyllic and she was loathed by many in the Nirvana community. This made her an obvious scapegoat. Eventually, conspiracy theorists floated the idea that Cobain’s death wasn’t a suicide at all, but that Love had him murdered.
While the music community mourned the loss of one of its giants, the spin moved on to Cobain’s legacy. He’d only lived long enough to spearhead three proper studio albums with Nirvana, but in the process was hailed as a revolutionary who’d birthed a new genre of music. Should he be immortalized alongside other musical icons who died at age 27? Was it fair to utter his name in the same breath as Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, Brian Jones, and Robert Johnson?
These are all plays straight out of the Rock ‘n’ Roll 101 handbook, specifically the chapter on how to handle a rock star who checks out in his or her prime. It goes like this. First, express shock over Young Rock Star’s death and report on the outpouring of love and respect from the musical community. While that reality is still sinking in, switch gears completely and report on the inevitability of said Rock Star’s demise. After all, in light of his or her habits and lifestyle, who didn’t see this coming?
Next, the public wants answers. Not only should they be offered gory and gruesome details as if this were an episode of CSI or some other crime investigation show, but supplied with detailed exploits of the Young Rock Star’s last days.
The fans also need a target upon whom to vent their anger. Why wasn’t the record company babysitting its star more? Shouldn’t the family have done more to intervene? How about that destructive relationship? Sure the Young Rock Star may have exhibited every sign of a death wish, but can’t we ultimately blame someone else for this?
With Young (now Dead) Rock Star barely in the grave, it’s time to focus on his or her legacy. After all, our beloved hero has been dead for days! It’s about time we move on and figure out our idol’s place in the whole of musical history. How should this Dead Young Rock Star be remembered? Also, to generate controversy, plenty of press should be afforded to detractors who callously lambast Young Rock Star as overrated.
The final matter is two-fold: 1) how can Dead Young Rock Star be immortalized with such a slim discography and; 2) how can record companies shamelessly profit on Dead Young Rock Star’s death by raiding the vaults for unreleased material?
Amy Winehouse’s recent death required anyone associated with the recording industry or music journalism to dust off their Rock ‘n’ Roll 101 manuals. A quick overview shows her story to be eerily reminiscent of Cobain’s. Tabloids salivated over her exploits with substance abuse, failed rehab attempts, and a not quite two-car-garage-and-picket-fence marriage to Blake Fielder-Civil. It didn’t take long before Winehouse’s father publicly blamed his daughter’s death on the ex-husband because he had introduced Amy to drugs.
Conflicting accounts emerged regarding events in the days leading up to her death. Had she gone on a drug-buying spree just the night before? Had a physician just proclaimed her to be in good health? Did she die because she was fighting so hard to overcome her demons that her body collapsed from alcohol withdrawl? Posing these questions naturally draws out anyone who ever partied with Winehouse, sat in on a recording session, or hung out with her in a seedy bar. All of them weigh in with their takes on what she was really like.
Even with the public still grieving, talk turned to Winehouse’s status in Rock ‘n’ Roll Heaven. Does she deserve enshrinement alongside other musicians who passed on to that great gig in the sky, with only 27 years on planet Earth?
The matter of her slim two-album discography led detractors to say no. The jazzy Frank (2003) was critically hailed, but certainly not considered a game changer. The 2006 follow-up, Back to Black, was hailed as a landmark of both retro-soul and neo-soul. No, I’m not sure how it can be both, either. Whatever it is genre-wise, is Back to Black truly deserving of the “classic album” tag?
Whatever title was latched to her sound, it became the consensus that Winehouse launched a wave of white, British, female R&B/pop singers like Adele, Duffy, and Florence & the Machine.
Finally, there’s the “What will the record companies do next?” route. Winehouse hadn’t been dead a week before stories flooded the Internet about what was or wasn’t in the vaults that might see the light of day. Depending on the account, there’s the “let’s respect the family’s wishes” angle or the idea that if there’s a tape of Winehouse farting, let’s release it to the public – you know, because we deserve to hear it all.
Are there three albums worth of material? Is it just a handful of demos? When someone recently broke into her house, how much music did they steal? Will something be released before the end of the year? I think of the song “Paint a Vulgar Picture” by the Smiths: “At the record company meeting/ On their hands a dead star/ And oh, the plans they weave/ And oh, the sickening greed.”
What gets overlooked amidst the sensationalism are detailed expositions on what led to the tragedy. Why does our entertainment culture salivate over both the construction and destruction of its stars? Is the same quality that drives attention seekers to the spotlight what also causes them to self-destruct?
History is littered with artistic geniuses who could barely run their personal lives even as the world worshiped them. The urge to create is often a double-edged sword saddled with a propensity to destroy. Our greatest musical legends are often troubled souls who likely would have had difficult lives in or out of the limelight.
Through it all, however, we should never lose sight of some basics. The Rock ‘n’ Roll 101 Handbook doesn’t acknowledge that its Dead Young Rock Stars had parents, siblings, spouses, children, and friends. They had their problems but were adored by millions. They made music which touched people’s souls and changed people’s lives. The Kurt Cobains, Amy Winehouses, and other musical geniuses who walked this planet for far too short a time deserve to be embraced. They were flawed, but they were also beloved.
R.I.P., Dead Young Rock Stars.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Are These the New Faces of Classic Rock?
Originally published in my "Aural Fixation" column on PopMatters.com on July 27, 2011. See original post here.
image from popmatters.com
In recent weeks, VH1 has launched a handful of new episodes of Behind the Music, keying in on artists like Missy Elliott and Ice Cube. The show was a music mainstay in the late ‘90s and the first half of the 21st century with documentaries of the music world’s legends. It became a running cliché that the average episode delved into a band’s humble beginnings in crappy clubs, its sudden rise to fame, the inevitable fall from grace thanks to a member’s drug overdose, and the band’s hopeful comeback.
In 2011, some of yesteryear’s stories could add a new chapter. Pick an established classic rock band which celebrated its heyday in the ‘70s and early ‘80s. The group stubbornly refuses to hang it up, even in the face of less-than-stellar reunions in recent years. The lead singer, to whom the band attributed the lion’s share of its success, has been felled by some strange disease rendering him unable to perform on stage. It’s best if it is an obscure ailment that makes the general public scratch its collective head and say, “never heard of that before. Is that for real?” The band unceremoniously dumps said vocalist. To rub salt in his wounds, they don’t turn to a well-respected veteran (a la Queen tapping Paul Rodgers to sub for Freddie Mercury), but scour YouTube videos for a fresh-faced frontman who has belted out the group’s catalog for a decade in a cover band.
While this may sound like a sequel to the film This Is Spinal Tap, this is no mockumentary. Case in point: Journey. The band got its start in the mid-‘70s as an offshoot of Santana. After three albums and little fanfare, it tapped Steve Perry to helm the mic. His arrival signaled a more pop-oriented sound which peaked with Escape in 1981, an album which secured three top ten US hits. Two more successful albums followed before the band hung it up, seemingly for good.
The group inevitably reunited in 1996. Then the drama began. A hiking injury in the summer of 1997 left Perry needing hip replacement surgery. The intended tour was canceled, but guitarist Neal Schon and keyboardist Jonathan Cain were determined to keep the dream alive (or the paychecks flowing, depending on one’s perspective).
Journey didn’t immediately go the lead-singer-from-cover-band route. After two studio albums, an EP, and two different lead singers, Journey hired Arnel Pineda in 2007. He was the leader for the Zoo when Schon saw him singing covers of Journey songs on YouTube. While haters would love to snicker at the assumed failure of such a proposition, Journey had the last laugh. Its next album, Revelation, went top five and platinum in the US. This was a far cry from the number 170 peak of the Generations album in 2005.
Let’s explore another recent case. Progressive rock band Yes just released Fly from Here, its first studio album in a decade. Since the group’s 1968 inception, nearly 20 musicians can boast I-was-once-in-Yes membership cards. The only constant has been bassist Chris Squire. However, no member has been more associated with the group than Jon Anderson, who sang on all their albums but Drama (1980).
In 2008, Yes reassembled for a summer tour. Anderson had to bow out when he was hospitalized with acute respiratory failure. Once again, the lure of the tour (or the payday it offered) led the remainder of the band to say, “Screw it, the show must go on.” It brought in Benoît David, a Canadian singer with Close to the Edge, which was—say it with me—a Yes cover band. How did Yes stumble across this guy? If you have to ask, you haven’t been paying attention: Squire found him on YouTube.
Perhaps you’re curious to see if Arnel can convince you to “Don’t Stop Believin’”. You can catch Journey out on the road this summer. Interestingly enough, the band is touring with Foreigner. Fans will remember Foreigner as the group with Lou Gramm belting out power ballads like “Waiting for a Girl Like You” and “I Want to Know What Love Is” as well as rockers like “Hot Blooded” and “Urgent”. By the early ‘90s, Gramm left the group. Mick Jones, the band’s only constant, kept things plodding along and Gramm attempted a return by decade’s end, but—here we go again—medical problems affected his singing voice. By 2002, Gramm and Jones parted for good so this summer’s “Juke Box Hero” will be Kelly Hansen. Who? Exactly.
If you want to take in a Yes show this summer, you’ll also find Styx on the bill. This story is getting repetitive. Styx also found its voice in the ‘70s and early ‘80s when founder Dennis DeYoung gave the group its biggest hits via “Babe”, “Come Sail Away”, and “Mr. Roboto”. The group was defunct by the mid ‘80s and muddled through a couple reunions in the ‘90s. Personality conflicts and differences over musical direction escalated. DeYoung contracted a viral illness which left him light-sensitive. The rest of the group opted to continue without him, bringing Lawrence Gowan into the fold to try to convince audiences that these were still “The Best of Times”.
There are two schools of thought on how aging bands should approach their golden years. They can play until they drop, unashamed that the few hairs they have left are gray and that they can no longer strut across a stage without a walker. The more dignified approach would be to accept age and gracefully hang it up, sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch and reminiscing about the other kind of rocking days.
My mocking tone would suggest that I fall into the latter camp. Surprisingly, I’m all for groups beating a dead horse. I say rock until you can’t walk! Sing until your oxygen tank sputters! Wail on that guitar until the arthritis renders your fingers useless stubs.
Here’s the thing: rock ‘n’ rollers don’t just clock out one day and take home a retirement watch. They long to play. Sure, seeing Mick Jagger prance across a stage at 70 may crank up the ick-factor, but here’s the rub: no one has to see the Rolling Stones 40 years past their prime. No one has to watch a Super Bowl half-time show starring half the Who and trying not to think of the irony of Pete Townshend’s most famous lyric ever: “I hope I die before I get old.”
No one is twisting fans’ arms. The audience will always dictate the market. As long as people still buy Journey records or see Yes in concert—even if the numbers are far less than the glory days—then I say, “Play on.” Congrats to Arnel, Benoît, Kelly, and Lawrence. Here’s hoping you can lead your bands into the next generation—when you’ll be old enough to catch a disease of your own and get replaced by the next generation’s cover band sensation found on YouTube.
Monday, June 13, 2011
Waxing Nostalgic: The Mantras of the Music Geek
Originally published in my "Aural Fixation" column on PopMatters.com on June 20, 2011. See original post here.
Mantra 1: Berate all generations after your own.
Mantra 2: If it sells, it sucks.
Mantra 3: Vinyl is king; all other formats are crap.
Mantra 4: The digital age is destroying music.***
image from popmatters.com
Paul managed a record store in the early ‘90s. For those unfamiliar with the concept, music was once purchased at actual physical locations on actual physical media. Quaint, isn’t it?
Anyway, reminiscing around a table at Joe’s Crab Shack, Paul recounted his memory of the resurgence of Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody” courtesy of Wayne’s World. When the song first charted in 1975, it was a number one in the UK and went top ten stateside. On its second go-round in 1992, it topped the charts again on British soil and bested its original US peak, this time going all the way to #2.
Paul is a college buddy with whom I shared crab balls – insert joke here – at a mini-reunion over dinner. Also along for the trip down memory lane were Lance and Forrest. This put the four of us in the same place for the first time in 20 years. To picture our motley little crew, think of four athletic frat boys who were – and still are – always the coolest guys in the room. Now imagine exactly the opposite.
We did the requisite reminiscing about bawdiness and debauchery of days long ago, but I’ll refrain from those tales to protect the guilty. What happened in New York stays in New York.
Instead, my dear readers, you get to eavesdrop on conversations sparked by questions like “What would your theme song be when you entered a room?” and “What song that you used to love can you no longer stand?” I know. Alert the Center for Disease Control to quarantine these losers so that no one else is infected by their music sickness.
Even more annoyingly, there is a lesson to be found in all this. Hard to believe, but some people remain clueless as to how to become a music geek. Thanks to the Shack Pack, you can now be privy to the 4 Mantras of the Music Geek.
Mantra 1: Berate all generations after your own.
Our crab-eating collective were pre-teens during the first chart run of “Bohemian Rhapsody”, so upon its revival Paul was well-versed in its history. However, the new music-buying generation was not. By the time customer #402 asked him for “That new song from Wayne’s World” Paul was ready to remove someone’s spleen.
Paul similarly went into spasms confessing, “My four-year-old sings Justin Bieber’s ‘Baby’ to soothe his infant sister.” I withheld admitting that Selena Gomez’s cover of “Magic”, originally a top 5 US hit by Pilot in the – you guessed it – ‘70s, is one of my kids’ favorites. I boasted instead of their love for the Stooges’ “I Wanna Be Your Dog” and the Ramones’ “Blitzkrieg Bop”.
Lance also convulsed at Paul’s suggestion that Bob Seger should cue up Lance’s arrival into a room. For a devotee to blues man Buddy Guy, such a suggestion was sacrilege. Besides, it is disturbing to picture Lance sliding across a wood floor in his underwear doing a Tom Cruise Risky Business impression while “Old Time Rock and Roll” blares out of the speakers.
Still, lyrics about how “today’s music ain’t got the same soul” are apropos. Lance dismissed current music as distracting him from his bid to fully digest the Bob Dylan catalog. “Are you sure you aren’t just making up the name Arctic Monkeys?” he asked when I announced what had most recently downloaded.
Forrest was already dismissing his own generation’s music at eighteen. He sounded like the grizzled old blues men already populating Lance’s music collection. Forrest was listening to Wilson Pickett in our college years, not Rick Astley. Yeah, “Never Gonna Give You Up” came on before we left the shack.
Mantra 2: If it sells, it sucks.
Joe’s Crab Shack offers indescribable ear torture for a gang of geeks whose tastes are rooted in classic rock and the blues. Every 45 minutes or so, the wait staff were tasked with hoofing to chestnuts such as Rose Royce’s “Car Wash”, Village People’s “Y.M.C.A.”, and some weird remix of the Bee Gees’ “Stayin’ Alive” infused with a rap break.
One might assume that my Crab Crew would compare and contrast those ‘70s disco nuggets with a more acceptable contemporary – like “Bohemian Rhapsody”. That would be a gross misunderstanding of the music geek’s talent for steering conversation to the obscure. I ribbed Forrest about donning a white suit a la Saturday Night Fever with “Stayin’ Alive” soundtracking his entrance. However, he and Lance segued into a discourse on why Queen’s “March of the Black Queen” was superior to the group’s calling-card tune.
This brings us to the eponymous debut from Boston. Hating that album is almost a mantra by itself. Full disclosure: I still like it, an admission which may get my music aficionado club membership revoked. There isn’t a non-hit to embrace since the entire track listing populates classic rock playlists. This makes band mastermind Tom Scholz a natural target thanks to his proclivity to polish everything with a studio sheen in the name of amassing monstrous commercial success. Forrest relayed this story :“I bitched about that album one time to a guy who turned out to be Tom Scholz’s cousin.” Forrest is still removing bits of sneaker from his mouth.
Mantra 3: Vinyl is king; all other formats are crap.
Within five minutes into any conversation, it is mandatory that a music aficionado express undying love for vinyl and denounce all other comers. This obsession is largely focused on sound fidelity, but also nostalgia over the tried-and-true wax disc.
The Shack Pack reminisced over 45 RPM vinyl singles, the only way to get individual songs in our day. Today record companies whine about digital downloads trumping album sales, but in days of yore Rose Royce’s “Car Wash” single easily outdistanced its parent album at the cash register.
Record company greed and the arrival of the eight track reversed this trend. In the seventies, every adolescent boy with a Trans Am wanted to blow out his car speakers with Ted Nugent’s “Cat Scratch Fever.” None of these Detroit City Madman worshippers were doing it with a turntable in their backseats.
About five seconds after the eight track arrived, the maddening click that interrupted the music, sometimes mid-song, sent execs back to the drawing board. The cassette arrived, offering more portability, recordability, and a slight return to the singles market. However, by the ‘80s, record companies needed to hamstring people like me who spent their middle school years taping songs off the radio. The compact disc, and a chance to sell AC/DC’s Back in Black to customers for the umpteenth time, arrived.
Mantra 4: The digital age is destroying music.
The CD reaped huge benefits for the recording industry from the mid -‘80s through the whole of the ‘90s. Then Napster hit. I ranted to my Shack Pack buddies about the record companies’ short-sightedness in wrestling the digital giant to the ground and beating it to a bloody pulp. Latch on to what’s already there, I argued. Tag a reasonable subscription fee to the service. Sit back and reap the benefits of making money from an established brand name – all without reinventing the wheel.
A music geek realizes that it isn’t just that record company mismanagement has hurt music. Forrest lamented, “it no longer takes any effort to discover music.” Lance agreed, saying “I remember my cousin raving to me about this song he’d heard by Pink Floyd called ‘Another Brick in the Wall Part II.’ We waited around to hear it on the radio; sure enough, it eventually came around again.” This was 1979 when hearing a favorite song wasn’t a YouTube or iTunes click away.
Maybe everything really does come around again, as the saying goes. The digital age has restored the singles market. “Bohemian Rhapsody” might re-emerge again in Wayne’s World: The Next Generation where we follow Wayne and Garth’s offspring in the new era.
One thing is certain: music geeks have some maddening mantras. If you stumble across a motley group of 40-somethings at Joe’s Crab Shack, you can pull up a chair and we’ll be happy to explain them in depth. Otherwise, you might be better off heading across the parking lot to Old Chicago’s, instead.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Is Glee the New Elvis?
Originally published in my "Aural Fixation" column on PopMatters.com on May 24, 2011. See original post here.
image from popmatters.com
Once upon a time there was young man who was attractive and charming. His teen followers swooned as he threatened to revolutionize their world by introducing them to his brand of music. While the kids embraced the Man, he rubbed some members of the Establishment the wrong way because his music was deemed a dangerous influence on the youth. I’m talking, of course, about Elvis Presley. No, wait. I mean, I’m talking about the basic plot line of Glee.
Elvis fans may cringe, but there are parallels between one of today’s most iconic television shows and the King of Rock ‘n’ Roll. Much like the man from Tupelo, Mississippi, has become synonymous with American music in the ‘50s, Glee is a touchstone for the state of American music in 2011.
The Charts
The notion that Elvis and Glee even belong in the same musical discussion was sparked by a 16 February 2011 article in Billboard magazine, “‘Glee’ Cast Tops Elvis Presley for Most Hot 100 Hits” (by Gary Trust). The industry leader’s flagship US chart, the Hot 100, crowned a new king for most chart entries – and it wasn’t The King.
A television show that was nonexistent two years ago surpassed the 108 hits Elvis Presley accumulated over a two-decade career. This statistic is a little misleading. The Hot 100 launched in 1958, by which time Elvis had already spent two years racking up 31 hits on predecessors to the Hot 100 chart (see “Ask Billboard: Who Could Break “Glee”‘s Record?”, by Gary Trust, 18 February 2011). That boosts his total to 139 charted hits from 1956’s “Heartbreak Hotel” to the 2003 remix of “Rubberneckin’.” As of 14 May 2011, the Glee cast had amassed 137 Hot 100 hits. Give ‘em another week.
There’s still plenty of room for chart fanatics to cry foul, however. The average Glee chart entry is gone before the next episode airs. While the man who sang to a hound dog on Milton Berle’s show has left us with immortal songs like “Jailhouse Rock” and “Don’t Be Cruel”, the cast of Glee has graced us with gems like…uh, well, they did a cover of Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’.”
Let’s not kid ourselves. Glee hasn’t left us with a treasure trove of immortal songs like “It’s Now Or Never” or “Suspicious Minds”. When the Glee cast passed Elvis’ record, they’d logged a wimpy 150 weeks total for all their chart entries, meaning about 80 percent of their “hits” logged a solitary week on the chart. By comparison, Elvis amassed 994 cumulative weeks. Only 700 or so more Glee hits and they’ll have caught up to the King!
Presley scores significantly better than Glee on other fronts, as well. According to Joel Whitburn’s Top Pop Singles, Presley has gone top ten 38 times compared to a skimpy three such hits for Glee. The King has gone #118 times; Glee hasn’t done that, yet.
Still, the sheer number of chart entries for the Glee cast makes their achievement astonishing. More importantly, Glee taps into the state of today’s music industry much as Elvis did in his day.
Using Television as a Medium
In the ‘50s, television proved an important medium for marketing music. An appearance on The Ed Sullivan Show could send viewers straight to their radio station’s request lines or, more importantly, to their local shop which sold 45 RPM records.
Glee has blended adolescent hormones and the immediacy of digital music and poured its concoction into must-see prime time TV. Prior television-meets-music endeavors like the High School Musical movies and the Hannah Montana TV show had landed multiple chart entries in a single week, but only Glee has done it on a weekly basis.
Taking Advantage of the Digital Age
This has largely come from the ability of the Glee marketing machine to take full advantage of how young audiences consume music today. In Elvis’ time, a teen had to persuade Mom and Pop to take them shopping. In the 21st century, a teen’s impulsive need to add a just-heard song to his iPod is only a mouse click away, and it’s easy on his allowance.
As disposable as pop music has generally been, Glee has taken it to new heights. Week-in and week-out, iTunes drools over Gleeks desperate to own songs they heard for the first time just seconds before. The song that charts this week may be a distant memory next week. It may never get radio airplay and certainly won’t go down as a cherished classic, but it sold a hundred thousand or so downloads on its way toward obscurity.
Singles Over Albums
This sounds pretty negative, but there’s an upside. For years, the music industry greedily stuck its money-grubbing hands into the customer’s wallets by pushing albums when buyers often wanted individual songs. That power, however, has shifted back to the consumer.
The album format launched in the ‘40s and gained prominence in the ‘50s primarily as collections of previously-released material targeted to more serious fans. During the ‘60s, groups like the Beatles approached albums as artistic statements independent of singles. Thanks to Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band and similar ventures, the ‘70s launched classic rock groups like Pink Floyd and Led Zeppelin who could find massive success with barely a single to their names.
By the ‘80s, commercial juggernauts like Michael Jackson’s Thriller and Bruce Springsteen’s Born in the U.S.A. bombarded the US market with single after single, but all in the name of pushing the album into multi-platinum sales figures. By the turn of the century, a new album by the Backstreet Boys or ‘N Sync was practically considered a failure if it didn’t move a million copies its first week out.
However, the digital age has ravaged the album industry, allowing customers to cherry-pick individual songs. Glee has fully embraced the practice, not even pushing albums on its public until its fans have had the chance to purchase the songs individually.
The Musical Climate
All of this hints at the greatest commonality between Elvis Presley and Glee. Both are at the forefront of their eras by tapping into the musical climate of the day. Before Elvis gyrated his pelvis into the musical spotlight, the American music scene was dominated by crooners like Frank Sinatra and Bing Crosby. These were singers who started out fronting big bands with repertoires comprised primarily of already-established standards. It was common in the first half of the 20th century to see multiple versions of the same song chart available simultaneously.
In the ‘50s, the birth of rock and roll wasn’t just about marrying R&B to country to birth a new genre. It was also about transforming how the music industry marketed itself. Suddenly the most successful singers no longer looked like they were headed to the office; they looked like they worked at the local filling station. Elvis Presley and his peers weren’t fronting orchestras but small combos of guitar, bass, drums, and piano. Performances were no longer about how effectively the singer nailed a laid-back vibe, but how manic he looked while swiveling his hips, terrorizing a defenseless piano, or strutting across the stage to the whoops and hollers of teenage girls.
The music industry of 2011 bears similarities to the music industry of 1956. Glee is more about the ensemble than the individual performer. In addition, Glee has lead to the industry to again embrace the idea of tapping into a hit song’s success by recycling it before it goes cold. In some cases, such as Cee-Lo Green’s “Forget You”, the original got a boost because of the Glee version.
If Glee ever tackles the Elvis catalog, there’s no question which version of “Love Me Tender” or “Are You Lonesome Tonight?” will leave the greater imprint. However, Glee has mastered the premise of today’s musical landscape that longevity isn’t the goal. Sell and sell now. Worry about what history will say about it, later.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Modern-Indie-College-Alternative Rock for Hipsters (MICAH for Short)
Originally published in my "Aural Fixation" column on PopMatters.com on April 18, 2011. See original post here.
That collective gasp when Arcade Fire’s The Suburbs snagged the Album of the Year prize at the 2011 Grammys was not just the sound of middle America murmuring “Who?” It was also the crestfallen sigh of the hipster nation, aghast that another of its warriors had succumbed to the dark side. It was yet another lost battle to keep underground music where it belonged – in the hands of teens and 20-somethings dedicated to sporting thrift shop apparel and ironic looks.
As a grizzled codger, I took a “seen it all before” attitude. I am, after all, twice the average hipster’s age with an unfathomable 44 fire-hazard-producing candles atop my last birthday cake. That cry of “I remember when that band belonged to us” was not invented by the latte-swilling generation. There have been decades of precedents, be it U2 taking over the world with their #1 hit “With Or Without You”, Green Day signing with a major label so that they could win over the masses with songs about masturbation and paranoia, or Nirvana dethroning Michael Jackson on the album chart.
The “sell out” tag was attached to all these bands prior to these incidents, but like Arcade Fire’s Grammy victory, these were defining moments when indie faves became mainstream darlings. Hipsters might lament that Arcade Fire lost their edge when they racked up Grammy nominations. Maybe it was when The Suburbs topped the album chart. It could go back to their sophomore effort, 2007’s Neon Bible, hitting #2. It might date to “Wake Up” becoming inescapable or when the band’s 2004 debut, Funeral, went gold.
Ever since rock ‘n’ roll became the music for the masses with Elvis’ hip swiveling broadcast to millions via The Ed Sullivan Show, there has been an alternative scene dedicated to, well, not the masses. The garage rock of the ‘50s gave way to beret-wearing beatniks celebrating Andy Warhol’s Velvet Underground pet project in the ‘60s.
In the ‘70s, Malcolm McLaren’s SEX shop in Britain and Hilly Kristal’s CBGB club in New York gifted punk rock like the Sex Pistols and Ramones to disenfranchised youth with tastes for power chords and clothing decorated with safety pins. With their early brand of electronica, Kraftwerk spawned synth-loving new wave rockers who dressed fashionably and sported ozone-killing hairdos. Goth-rock innovators like Joy Division birthed a generation of brooding musicians and followers marked by jet-black hair drooping over pale faces and mascara-painted eyes.
It all gelled together just enough in the early ‘80s to spark under-the-radar radio stations devoted to representing the various underground scenes. A more all-encompassing banner became necessary. This left-of-center music which appeals to 20-somethings who dress funny has been saddled with a handful of monikers over the last 30 years, but I’ll call it “MICAH”. Huh? Who’s MICAH? No, not who, but what. “MICAH” is my admittedly cheesy acronym for music that has, at one time or another, been defined as modern, indie, college, alternative, and hipster music.
Because of its origins at under-the-radar college radio stations at the dawn of the ‘80s, this music first gathered under the “college rock” banner. Some of the genre’s earliest champions were U2, R.E.M., Duran Duran, INXS, Depeche Mode, and the Cure. In what became the MICAH music trend, these bands all forfeited their college-rock membership badges when they landed top-selling albums fueled by top ten hits. Fanatics who had supported these bands pre-MTV cried “sell out” and embraced the never-quite-prime-time rockers like the Replacements and Sonic Youth.
By the late ‘80s, the term “college rock” was overhauled to “modern rock”, presumably because its 20-something listener base were now struggling to pony up cash for rent and car payments instead of textbook fees and pizza deliveries. Groups like Faith No More and the Red Hot Chili Peppers found ways to turn Run-D.M.C’s remake of “Walk This Way” into an entire rap-rock genre. Like their predecessors, however, they were booted to the curb by their MICAH base when they fueled their efforts into top ten hits like “Epic” and “Under the Bridge”.
In the ‘90s, the music was rechristened “alternative rock” and helmed by punk rock revivalists like Green Day and flannel-wearing grunge rockers like Nirvana and Pearl Jam. Once again, these were the flagship groups who quickly outgrew their underground aesthetic when they became “the music of a generation”.
Amusingly, another MICAH trend perpetrated itself during this era. Much as groups like the Jesus and Mary Chain or Echo & the Bunnymen had enjoyed far greater success in their native UK, ‘90s groups like Blur and Oasis led the Britpop movement overseas, but were just part of the collective alt-rock genre in the States. Apparently, it was acceptable to listen to bands who’d landed huge hits – as long as they hadn’t done so in North America.
Another reboot was necessary by the end of the century. This time the worshippers of non-mega-label music opted to stamp their favorite tuneage with the “indie rock” tag. Once again, bands like the White Stripes and the Strokes, which came out of a garage revivalist movement, quickly became too big for their britches.
In the 21st century, MICAH music has become the soundtrack for hipsters whose credibility lies in latching on to that to which the general public remains clueless. Ironically, the very collective comprised of those who make such effort to not be defined have, like their predecessors, pretty cleanly boxed themselves into a clique with their concerted efforts at their alternative looks, tastes, and lifestyles.
What’s a MICAH fan to do when the rest of the world is suddenly aware of what was supposed to stay underground? Emo proved a failed outlet for indie tastes as Pete Wentz hooked and unhooked with pop singer Ashlee Simpson as quickly as his group Fall Out Boy and fellow emo rockers Panic! At the Disco and My Chemical Romance went from underground to mainstream to falling out of favor. Similarly, dance-rock revival groups like Franz Ferdinand and the Killers were big before they’d ever been small.
In recent years, Mumford & Sons, the Fleet Foxes, the Black Keys, the National, Band of Horses, and the Hold Steady earned just enough media spotlight to leave hipsters wondering where to turn next. Thanks to the digital age, anyone and their mother can download anything ever recorded or YouTube anything ever filmed. Bands like Vampire Weekend practically had their MICAH membership cards revoked before they’d arrived in the mail.
Well, MICAH fans, rejoice. For every Arcade Fire or U2 or Green Day who makes it big, there will be a wake of also-rans. For every album that sells in the six-figure range, there will be other acts who struggle to sell, well, six albums. Every suburban garage holds possibilities for the next band that will go nowhere and every local club potentially houses the next audience-of-one performance by the latest not-up-and-coming band.
Oh, and there is one more possibility. Don’t gauge how much you should or shouldn’t like a band based on their sales on iTunes, their number of fans on Facebook, or the size of the venues they play. Don’t fret over who does or doesn’t have your band’s tunes spinning on their iPods. Don’t get alarmed when your band hits one million plays on YouTube or uses their song to hock product in TV commercials. Like the bands you like because… well, because you like them. Just a thought from a decidedly unhip fogie who’s probably old enough to be your father.
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