(I'm back. Did you miss me?)
I am well known amongst my friends for being pretentious. Alright, let's be honest: anyone who talks to me for more than five minutes knows I'm a horribly pretentious snob that hates fun. Passionately. So it probably shouldn't surprise you that I don't have fond feelings for Fox's new foremost show, Glee. For those of you unfamiliar with it, the show consists of the poorly scripted antics of a Glee club, interspersed with autotuned musical numbers that make Rent look exciting. It's not exactly high art, even for television.
So why do I care? After all, I barely watch television as it is, so why can't I leave well enough alone? That link I embedded should make things clear. To summarize, the cast of Glee (who, may I remind you, can't sing a note without the aid of computers) are now the foremost musical group in history, in regards to the Billboard charts. Yes, they are now, at least on one level, more successful than the Beatles.
I'm mad. I'm so mad that I can't even swear properly. Half an hour's gone by without me taking the name in vain; I'm sure my coworkers must believe I've gone catatonic. This is the final sign of how awful pop music has become, the surest signal I've seen yet that the music industry has drowned itself in an ocean they weren't even aware of. Pop is dead.
Which makes it very ironic that the modern era is what has brought us the insulting 'poptimist' movement. They assert that one should not judge empty, vapid pop music harshly, because even it displays a particular brilliance of songwriting. Fuck you, no it doesn't. Let's ignore the Tin Pan Alley written-by-committee aspect of most pop for a moment and address simple content: do you honestly intend to compare "Umbrella" with "Suzanne"? Danceability and hooks-per-minute are not competent measures of musical quality; emotion, lyrical depth, and lyrical/melodic complexity are.
I'm not arguing in favor of complexity for complexity's sake. I hate math rock and progressive metal as much as most other people. What I'm arguing for is a sense of human connection. You know I love blues music? It's not because it was recorded on impossibly shitty equipment (which has no bearing on anything other than when the artists were alive and how poor most of them were), it's because, despite the poor fidelity, you still feel something when you listen to those songs. I do, at least.
The more committee driven music becomes, the more we allow computers to perfect every pitch, and the less people care about where the music is coming from, the less authentic and emotional it becomes. It's not difficult to make people feel cheerful and upbeat, but it is difficult to make them think of something. Good music, really good music, elicits a response either by reminding you of something in your past or making you believe in what the singer says. This isn't easy, which is why artists are a rare breed. Everyone can make dance music (remember disco?). An Avon lady could make a competent pop song, given enough time and a crack team of producers to back her up. But no one remembers her for more than a few minutes.
10.07.2010
7.23.2010
Critical Hype: Commentary on Poptimist 31: The Heart of the Crowd
Edited 10/7/10
I have a love-hate relationship with Pitchfork. On the one hand, they occasionally give me insight into genres I have little interest in; offer helpful retrospective lists of various decades; and I did, after all, apply for a writers position there. On the other hand, they focus on twee/electronica/drone a little more than I would like; they put "In Da Club" by Fiddy Cent, one of my most hated songs from the past 20 years (trumped only by the Black Eyed Peas entire catalog) in their Top 200 Singles of the 00's (the position is irrelevant). The rest of the list vacillated between understandable (Radiohead, Outcast), insightful/interesting (I think The Knife made it in there, right?), and fucking bullshit (Cry Me A River? Really? REALLY?).
That being said, I enjoyed this column/article. Really. This isn't going to be a backhanded, sarcastic critique of the thing (like that 'Twee as Fuck' bit I did a few months ago), this is a genuine response to a topic you shouldn't be surprised I'm interested in.
The issue of 'generic' music (the central focus of the article) is one that's popped up in music criticism for decades, and has been getting harder to talk about ever since 'pop' become a genre in-and-of-itself during the 80s. When someone says that Michael Jackson is pop music, they aren't using it in the sense of calling him uninteresting or derivative. It's just one of the only labels that fits (R&B, disco, and New Jack Swing also work, albeit for distinct records as opposed to the artist as a whole). Power pop is a similar genre name, and can refer to more obscure artists like Big Star just as easily as big stars (ohohoho) like Weezer.
So 'pop music' isn't necessarily 'generic', unless you're a particularly jaded music critic who only likes stuff released by underground labels with an initial pressing of 500 copies (like Daniel Johnston, John Fahey, etc, etc). The fact that no living popular music critic is like this should tell you that the whole pretentious myth applies only to hipsters. Anyone with an open mind about music embraces a wide swath, obscure and Top 10 hits alike.
So generic doesn't mean bad either. So what does it mean? It's definitely subjective; any kind of critical judgment is. I would hazard to say, however, that almost any music fan has some definition of the word in their head, which makes me think that its a bit more universal than words like 'good' or 'bad'.
The word itself suggests derivative works, songs/artists that deliberately try to evoke some other song/artist. A few quick examples would be "Welcome To The Black Parade" ("Bohemian Rhapsody" by MCR's own admition), Britney Spears (Madonna), Kylie Mingoue (ditto), Christina Aguilera (ditto, again), Oasis (The Beatles), Weezer (KISS, again by their own admission), and many, many others. Any number of musicians admit their influences (Michael Jackson was heavily influenced by James Brown, who was influenced by Ray Charles, who was influenced by gospel music, etc, etc) but the best of them are able to transform themselves into something unique. Oasis aped The Beatles with an uncomfortable devotion, and The Beatles were themselves guilty of aping Motown artists and, of course, Elvis. The key difference is that The Beatles were able to develop past their influences and create music that was, at its best, unique. In contrast, Oasis developed past their influences and released Be Here Now. The difference is clear.
Let's say this definition, that generic refers to music that is derivative and obviously based off some prior musician's work with minimal development/unique qualities, is roughly universal. We've managed to narrow down the scope of the word, but it remains subjective. How? It depends on one's personal experience of music.
There is little doubt in my mind that a number of my generational compatriots heard Oasis songs before they heard Beatles songs. Nothing wrong with that. The issue is the false impression that comes with that little temporal reversal. On some level, I think, those people see The Beatles as the derivative artist. The qualities that make them unique have been heard in another context, and suddenly the people who did it first are judged inferior. In these peoples minds, they did not do it best. Oasis, or some other similar band, did.
This isn't something that can be removed with a simple history lesson. First impressions are, as I'm sure you well know, extremely powerful. I have plenty of friends that prefer modern pop to classic pop, and this (in my mind) is why. I don't think relative quality really enters into it; music preferences are so vague and individual that they're hardly worth talking about.
This explains why pretentious windbags like myself prefer either artists who are doing something relatively new (most electronica, drone, showgaze, etc) or classic artists (the ones who did ___ first). Musical plebeians, on the other hand, listen to new music without much context outside of prior years' Top Ten singles. Poor bastards.
I have a love-hate relationship with Pitchfork. On the one hand, they occasionally give me insight into genres I have little interest in; offer helpful retrospective lists of various decades; and I did, after all, apply for a writers position there. On the other hand, they focus on twee/electronica/drone a little more than I would like; they put "In Da Club" by Fiddy Cent, one of my most hated songs from the past 20 years (trumped only by the Black Eyed Peas entire catalog) in their Top 200 Singles of the 00's (the position is irrelevant). The rest of the list vacillated between understandable (Radiohead, Outcast), insightful/interesting (I think The Knife made it in there, right?), and fucking bullshit (Cry Me A River? Really? REALLY?).
That being said, I enjoyed this column/article. Really. This isn't going to be a backhanded, sarcastic critique of the thing (like that 'Twee as Fuck' bit I did a few months ago), this is a genuine response to a topic you shouldn't be surprised I'm interested in.
The issue of 'generic' music (the central focus of the article) is one that's popped up in music criticism for decades, and has been getting harder to talk about ever since 'pop' become a genre in-and-of-itself during the 80s. When someone says that Michael Jackson is pop music, they aren't using it in the sense of calling him uninteresting or derivative. It's just one of the only labels that fits (R&B, disco, and New Jack Swing also work, albeit for distinct records as opposed to the artist as a whole). Power pop is a similar genre name, and can refer to more obscure artists like Big Star just as easily as big stars (ohohoho) like Weezer.
So 'pop music' isn't necessarily 'generic', unless you're a particularly jaded music critic who only likes stuff released by underground labels with an initial pressing of 500 copies (like Daniel Johnston, John Fahey, etc, etc). The fact that no living popular music critic is like this should tell you that the whole pretentious myth applies only to hipsters. Anyone with an open mind about music embraces a wide swath, obscure and Top 10 hits alike.
So generic doesn't mean bad either. So what does it mean? It's definitely subjective; any kind of critical judgment is. I would hazard to say, however, that almost any music fan has some definition of the word in their head, which makes me think that its a bit more universal than words like 'good' or 'bad'.
The word itself suggests derivative works, songs/artists that deliberately try to evoke some other song/artist. A few quick examples would be "Welcome To The Black Parade" ("Bohemian Rhapsody" by MCR's own admition), Britney Spears (Madonna), Kylie Mingoue (ditto), Christina Aguilera (ditto, again), Oasis (The Beatles), Weezer (KISS, again by their own admission), and many, many others. Any number of musicians admit their influences (Michael Jackson was heavily influenced by James Brown, who was influenced by Ray Charles, who was influenced by gospel music, etc, etc) but the best of them are able to transform themselves into something unique. Oasis aped The Beatles with an uncomfortable devotion, and The Beatles were themselves guilty of aping Motown artists and, of course, Elvis. The key difference is that The Beatles were able to develop past their influences and create music that was, at its best, unique. In contrast, Oasis developed past their influences and released Be Here Now. The difference is clear.
Let's say this definition, that generic refers to music that is derivative and obviously based off some prior musician's work with minimal development/unique qualities, is roughly universal. We've managed to narrow down the scope of the word, but it remains subjective. How? It depends on one's personal experience of music.
There is little doubt in my mind that a number of my generational compatriots heard Oasis songs before they heard Beatles songs. Nothing wrong with that. The issue is the false impression that comes with that little temporal reversal. On some level, I think, those people see The Beatles as the derivative artist. The qualities that make them unique have been heard in another context, and suddenly the people who did it first are judged inferior. In these peoples minds, they did not do it best. Oasis, or some other similar band, did.
This isn't something that can be removed with a simple history lesson. First impressions are, as I'm sure you well know, extremely powerful. I have plenty of friends that prefer modern pop to classic pop, and this (in my mind) is why. I don't think relative quality really enters into it; music preferences are so vague and individual that they're hardly worth talking about.
This explains why pretentious windbags like myself prefer either artists who are doing something relatively new (most electronica, drone, showgaze, etc) or classic artists (the ones who did ___ first). Musical plebeians, on the other hand, listen to new music without much context outside of prior years' Top Ten singles. Poor bastards.
6.22.2010
Genre Study - 6.22.2010
Queried Album: Roy Orbison - Greatest Hits
Gracenote Genre: Early Rock & Roll
Wikipedia Genre: Rock, pop, pop-rock
My Genre: Rockabilly, blue-eyed soul
This one isn't actually all that bad, it's just a good illustration of a particular pet-peeve of mine: genres based on time periods. Early rock & roll is about as helpful a label as classic rock in my mind, and completely fails to suggest what the sound of the artist actually is. And if its doesn't do that, then what, pray tell, is the exact point of genres in the first place?
I'm being a bit harsh on the term here, and a lot of that is due to the 'early' bit. The phrase 'rock & roll' has taken on a colloquial meaning of early rock music anyway, so we might as well run with it and use that term alone. If you want to get prissy about it then what we understand as rock & roll today would be better termed as rockabilly, but this is simply splitting hairs. Genres are not an exact science; hell it isn't even a decent taxonomy. It's subjective as hell, based more on impression then actual elements of the songs (with a few exceptions, such as singer-songwriter and folk).
Oddly enough, Wikipedia's take is the one I most disagree with. Rock/pop isn't inaccurate, but it is frustratingly vague. I'm not saying it's inaccurate, I just think it shows laziness on the part of the article editors. Roy Orbison has a reasonably distinct sound that can be more directly addressed than writing it off as 'pop-rock'.
I may have mentioned blue-eyed soul before; the term was coined to describe singers who could be considered as a part of the soul genre were it not for their race. White folks, in other words, hence the 'blue-eyed' disclaimer. If "Yesterday" was the seed for twee/pop-folk, then "Unchained Melody" by the Righteous Brothers or Orbison's own "Crying" could be considered the start of blue-eyed soul. Such songs are all about the singer, presaging the singer-songwriter genre and distinguished from it by powerful voices as opposed to the reedy, often close-miced singing of Leonard Cohen, Carole King, and Tim Buckley. Orbison's other, more rhythm based songs are pure rockabilly.
Gracenote Genre: Early Rock & Roll
Wikipedia Genre: Rock, pop, pop-rock
My Genre: Rockabilly, blue-eyed soul
This one isn't actually all that bad, it's just a good illustration of a particular pet-peeve of mine: genres based on time periods. Early rock & roll is about as helpful a label as classic rock in my mind, and completely fails to suggest what the sound of the artist actually is. And if its doesn't do that, then what, pray tell, is the exact point of genres in the first place?
I'm being a bit harsh on the term here, and a lot of that is due to the 'early' bit. The phrase 'rock & roll' has taken on a colloquial meaning of early rock music anyway, so we might as well run with it and use that term alone. If you want to get prissy about it then what we understand as rock & roll today would be better termed as rockabilly, but this is simply splitting hairs. Genres are not an exact science; hell it isn't even a decent taxonomy. It's subjective as hell, based more on impression then actual elements of the songs (with a few exceptions, such as singer-songwriter and folk).
Oddly enough, Wikipedia's take is the one I most disagree with. Rock/pop isn't inaccurate, but it is frustratingly vague. I'm not saying it's inaccurate, I just think it shows laziness on the part of the article editors. Roy Orbison has a reasonably distinct sound that can be more directly addressed than writing it off as 'pop-rock'.
I may have mentioned blue-eyed soul before; the term was coined to describe singers who could be considered as a part of the soul genre were it not for their race. White folks, in other words, hence the 'blue-eyed' disclaimer. If "Yesterday" was the seed for twee/pop-folk, then "Unchained Melody" by the Righteous Brothers or Orbison's own "Crying" could be considered the start of blue-eyed soul. Such songs are all about the singer, presaging the singer-songwriter genre and distinguished from it by powerful voices as opposed to the reedy, often close-miced singing of Leonard Cohen, Carole King, and Tim Buckley. Orbison's other, more rhythm based songs are pure rockabilly.
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