As mentioned earlier, my music taste in high school was a mixed bag. Some stuff I’ve always loved, some stuff I fell out of and later revisited, and some stuff I’ll probably never touch again. One sub-population of those last bands could perhaps be lumped and labeled as “comedy rock.” I don’t think I’ll ever be able to come to terms with that crap.
But ten or twelve years ago, I was a fan. I loved Adam Sandler’s “They’re All Gonna Laugh At You!,” The Bloodhound Gang, and the President of the United States of America. Eventually, though, it got old. I mean, how many times can you hear a joke before it’s not funny anymore? Not much. Music is at its best when it’s expressive, so if the only point of a song is to get a chuckle, it’s not going to have much staying power once the laughter subsides.
When you compare the extreme highs and lows of the Funny spectrum, like “Amish Paradise” vs. “Threnody for the Victims of Hiroshima,” the distinction is obvious: one is dripping with intense feeling, and the other is….a slightly amusing reworking of an older hit song (try to guess which one is which). But there is a good deal of bands situated in the murky middle of that spectrum, and my reactions to them grow more complex.
Take the Darkness. I really, really wanted to dislike them when I first read about them in music mags. Their cheeky embrace of 80’s hair metal stylings just seemed to reek of cynicism. But upon hearing their stuff, I was impressed. It may all have been a joke, but the efforts they made to take that joke to its fullest were apparent. The songs have admittedly limited repeat value, but they’re damn fun pop music. They almost convinced me to check out some authentic 80’s hair metal. Almost…but not quite.
A harder one to judge is Robyn Hitchcock. Musically, he’s a seamless blend of Syd Barrett and John Lennon, but his lyrics are even more odd than those two points of reference. He’s at his best when his words balance his rabid paranoia with surreal whimsy. But his songs are all over the map in terms of Funniness, from dreamily expressive, to almost-joke territory (somewhat close to the Darkness), to unbearably comedic. I can say that I generally like him, but I always have to approach with caution, since any album is likely to have at least two or three joke mines lurking within.
Then there’s Frank Zappa, who I’m pretty sure I hate. Worshiped by almost everyone I know (though I was happy to read that Lester Bangs, Lou Reed, and John Cale all shared my distaste), Zapp crapped on all of his creative ideas with crass, sardonic humor and a flat vocal delivery that lets you know that he could care about these songs if he wanted to, but he just doesn’t have time for such trifles. This approach stands apart from that of his friend and contemporary, Captain Beefheart. Both shared a fondness for novelty songs and toilet humor, but Beefheart was totally committed to his craft. You could tell that he loved the music he made; he lived it and breathed it, jokes and all. Zappa just wanted to demonstrate how above pop music he was. His use of jokes was at the expense of the music he parodied.
In my opinion, the Residents are a more successful incarnation of what Zappa was trying to do. They can be overly jokey, and also overly preachy about the evils of pop music, but they actually make stuff that they like making. If you hate pop songs so much, and you ambitiously call upon muses like Stravinsky and Varese, then why spend your whole career making doo wop songs about poop? The Residents hate pop music, so they make delightfully weird soundscapes that provide an alternative to the music they satirize. Zappa thought that being funny was enough, but without any real ties to the music he made, he’s only slightly more respectable than Weird Al.
Again, for me, it’s a ratio that determines whether I tolerate or loathe these middle points on the humor scale. And this forces the continuum into a binary distribution. Either it’s a good song tarnished by cheap cheek, or shitty comedy rock with little or no redeeming musical qualities. The Tiger Lilies, the Dead Milkmen, and Senor Coconut are on one side; The Decemberists, They Might Be Giants, and Tenacious D are on the other.
Try to guess which one is which.
Showing posts with label expression in music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label expression in music. Show all posts
Friday, November 19, 2010
Sunday, July 11, 2010
As if Born to Them
*Some thoughts have a certain sound, thought being equivalent to a form. Through sound and motion, you will be able to paralyze nerves, shatter bones, set fires, suffocate an enemy or burst his organs.*
So I was writing earlier about how artists from the mid-80’s on who identify with hip hop and R&B scenes value street toughness over tender emotions, and how this limits the expressive range of the music.
Well, that still holds for most everyone, but a notable exception has emerged. Urban pop music has found a potential savior: her name is Janelle Monae.
She may never get the acclaim she deserves. It just might not be the right time for her grandiose, left-of-center approach to pop. Her new album, Archandroid, is getting glowing reviews from critics, and faring pretty well in sales, but so far she’s not grabbing the public’s attention like, say, Lady Gaga. And she really deserves that spotlight, because unlike Gaga (and most pop of the past 20 years), she’s the complete package.
She can sing, she can move, she can write, she can play, she’s got command of her image, she’s got videos to excite and challenge, and she’s got loads of ambition to make Music that Matters (think Stevie Wonder rather than Bono and Scott Stapp). She’s definitely sexy too, but that’s incidental; what really attracts is the magnetic force of her multimedia visions for pop entertainment.
Most importantly, she anchors her dizzying, genre-hopping Concept album with earnest emotions, grounded in her concerns for a real world. There’s irony and detachment to her schtick, but unlike so many other icons today, including her friend Big Boi from Outkast, the saccharine rush of her pop mannerisms masks the joys and frustrations of an average human being. It’s catchy and glamorous, yes, but intelligent and expressive, and not afraid to seem a little different.
I’m hoping she becomes the sensation she deserves to be. She’s got the magic of Thriller-era Michael Jackson, but she’s also got substance to her material. She knows that Walt Disney and Broadway can’t magically wash away the world’s problems, and so she uses her songs and her showmanship to provoke her audience into thinking about the world around them.
At worst, she’ll succumb to the pressures of our cynical media culture and cash in on easy exploitations of her artistic vision. At best, she’ll transform the pop universe, paving the way for creative and expressive entertainers, and encouraging urban black musicians to unabashedly reclaim the full range of the emotional spectrum in their deliveries beyond anger and cool bemusement. Most likely though, she’ll be a cult sensation, but that’s not so bad.
At least we have an exciting new artistic personality with a whole career to look forward to, even if she’s not the Kwisatz Haderach of urban pop music. She may have some eventual missteps (it's almost inevitable), but it will be a pleasure to follow Janelle Monae as she dons her various cloaks of style and concept.
The Sleeper Has Awakened!
So I was writing earlier about how artists from the mid-80’s on who identify with hip hop and R&B scenes value street toughness over tender emotions, and how this limits the expressive range of the music.
Well, that still holds for most everyone, but a notable exception has emerged. Urban pop music has found a potential savior: her name is Janelle Monae.
She may never get the acclaim she deserves. It just might not be the right time for her grandiose, left-of-center approach to pop. Her new album, Archandroid, is getting glowing reviews from critics, and faring pretty well in sales, but so far she’s not grabbing the public’s attention like, say, Lady Gaga. And she really deserves that spotlight, because unlike Gaga (and most pop of the past 20 years), she’s the complete package.
She can sing, she can move, she can write, she can play, she’s got command of her image, she’s got videos to excite and challenge, and she’s got loads of ambition to make Music that Matters (think Stevie Wonder rather than Bono and Scott Stapp). She’s definitely sexy too, but that’s incidental; what really attracts is the magnetic force of her multimedia visions for pop entertainment.
Most importantly, she anchors her dizzying, genre-hopping Concept album with earnest emotions, grounded in her concerns for a real world. There’s irony and detachment to her schtick, but unlike so many other icons today, including her friend Big Boi from Outkast, the saccharine rush of her pop mannerisms masks the joys and frustrations of an average human being. It’s catchy and glamorous, yes, but intelligent and expressive, and not afraid to seem a little different.
I’m hoping she becomes the sensation she deserves to be. She’s got the magic of Thriller-era Michael Jackson, but she’s also got substance to her material. She knows that Walt Disney and Broadway can’t magically wash away the world’s problems, and so she uses her songs and her showmanship to provoke her audience into thinking about the world around them.
At worst, she’ll succumb to the pressures of our cynical media culture and cash in on easy exploitations of her artistic vision. At best, she’ll transform the pop universe, paving the way for creative and expressive entertainers, and encouraging urban black musicians to unabashedly reclaim the full range of the emotional spectrum in their deliveries beyond anger and cool bemusement. Most likely though, she’ll be a cult sensation, but that’s not so bad.
At least we have an exciting new artistic personality with a whole career to look forward to, even if she’s not the Kwisatz Haderach of urban pop music. She may have some eventual missteps (it's almost inevitable), but it will be a pleasure to follow Janelle Monae as she dons her various cloaks of style and concept.
The Sleeper Has Awakened!
Sunday, May 23, 2010
The Elephunk in the Room: Hip Hop Hatred & Racism
Ok, let’s get started with something that’s been on my mind for a while. Begin Rant:
A few years ago, the New Yorker’s Sasha Frere-Jones accused Stephin Merritt of being racist because, among other things, Merritt didn’t think much of today’s hip hop and R&B artists. I don’t think Frere-Jones’ argument was well-founded (he kind of ignored the obvious trend in Merritt’s taste: that of a gay man getting on in years), and I don’t think that one’s musical tastes determine if they are racist or not (plenty of openly racist people I’ve met listen to mostly rap), but the whole fiasco made explicit something that usually escapes mention: A lot of white Americans don’t like or respect contemporary hip hop and R&B nearly as much as they do rock, jazz, classical, etc.
This general opinion comes in several distinct variations, ranging from musical elitism (they’re not as sophisticated or original as other types of music), blatant racism (e.g. it’s “primitive” or “jungle” music), and a bunch of softer in-betweens.
…Including my own softer in-between. See, I often rank contemporary “urban” artists much lower in my list of preferences than those of other genres. I do like some hip hop and R&B, but rock, jazz, blues, classical and folk artists are way ahead in my book. I would also generalize to say that, with a few exceptions, black artists from recent years just don’t really move me that much.
So why is this? It’s not an argument from “rockism” or anything similar. I don’t like musical elitism. I think that we like what we like, and any musical snobbery that’s around today is an antiquated remnant of times when class determined how one lived and made merry. Put away the powdered wigs and get over yourselves, people.
And I don’t think I need to mention it, but racist explanations offered in this century for anything should be violently ignored. Simply. Stupid.
So why do Kanye, Will.I.Am., and Beyonce get less respect from me than Thom Yorke, Scott Walker, and Joanna Newsome? And why do I love black legends like Miles Davis but am lukewarm for lauded performers like Jay-Z?
I think the main explanation is actually pretty simple: for something to really connect with me, it has to provide an emotional release. The more powerful or complex the emotion elicited, the more I resonate with an artist and their work. I do like silly, fun music (e.g. Surfin Bird, Crank That), but none of it’s at the top of my list. Artists that can conjure joy (Stevie Wonder), melancholy (Joao Gilberto), anger (The Dead Kennedys), terror (Penderecki) ecstasy (John Coltrane, Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan) and strange mixtures of emotions (Astor Piazolla, Pere Ubu) are the ones that make me want to bow to them in reverence. They’re the ones that I really respect.
While this isn’t a racially-motivated opinion, there is a cultural/historical dimension to my distinction between “classic” black artists and the ones lumped as “urban,” and perhaps it’s this dimension that makes everyone jump to the possibility that racism motivates a dislike of rap.
The cultural/historical dimension is this: With the rise of hip hop in the 80’s, Black musicians became encouraged more and more to adapt a tough attitude that was more reflective of life on the street. Yes, gangsta rap is the most obvious example, but even peaceniks like Arrested Development and the Jungle Brothers have a cool distance in their delivery that’s far removed from Stevie Wonder’s unchecked emotional reverie. R&B eventually absorbed this attitude too, and naïve gushers like Whitney Houston’s “How Will I Know” were shelved for tunes with more ‘tude like those by Erykah Badu and R.Kelly.
I understand that this toughness and detachment is probably, to some extent, linked to a newfound sense of artistic independence among Black American artists. Look at the musical transformation of Michael Jackson: “ABC” --> “Rock With You” --> “Billie Jean” --> “Bad & Dirty Diana” --> “In the Closet” --> “Scream.” A morphing from boyish swooning to crotch grabbing badness to righteous indignation. Ever since the 80’s, artists no longer had to play nice like Sam Cooke and Louis Armstrong. Nowadays they can be Nasty, come Straight Outta Compton, and Like Big Butts on their Drunk’n’Hot Girls.
To be fair though, they can also be Prophets of Rage like Public Enemy and Ice Cube. And music by these artists vividly expresses the street-approved emotion of Anger. While I do rank these artists higher than more shallow rappers like Chingy and Birdman, another factor keeps me from fully identifying with any hardcore and gangsta rappers: the lyrics glorifying violence, misogyny, homophobia, and sometimes racism. I respect Chuck D and Ice Cube as artists, but perhaps not as people. Just like most Metal bands, there is a distance between us, regardless of the effective emotional component.
In addition to shedding the obligation to seem warm, friendly, and vulnerable, Black artists also seem to have tossed off the ambition to become Super-Musicians. A lot of white people today note that Black Music doesn’t have a Dizzie Gillespie, a Miles Davis, a Sun Ra, or even a Jimi Hendrix, while acts like Radiohead, Squarepusher, Bjork, etc., are continuing the tradition of generating impressive, creative, innovative output. This is somewhat true (in a superficial sense), but not only does it ignore impressive, creative, innovative and expressive output from Black artists like Prince and TV On the Radio, it also ignores the fact that legendary Black artists like Cab Calloway, James Brown, Marvin Gaye and others had to work their asses off to get noticed, and they still didn’t get the respect (or pay) they deserved until much later. They tried to be superhumans just to validate their humanity in the eyes of White America, and they still got the short shrift. Perhaps I’m wrong, but I think this lead to the opposing expectations for music we see today. A lot of White Americans have a more market-driven attitude of “Why should I respect or pay for an artist that doesn’t try his/her hardest to impress me?” while Black artists and fans perhaps think “Fuck you! The minstrel shows are over. We’re gonna do what we want to do.” So yeah, there are no more Black Super Musicians like Miles Davis, but maybe Miles Davis would be fine with that. Actually, his interviews from the 80’s suggest as much, especially his spat with jazz elitist Wynton Marsalis. After all, Rockism is so 70’s.
If these two theories of mine are true, I can respect why Black artists aren’t eager to make the next “Black Saint & the Sinner Lady” or “Talking Book.” But the fact remains that Urban music today is usually too detached to really move me. The sound of (and choreography for) “Single Ladies” blows me away, but Beyonce never in her songs reveals true emotion beyond cockiness and horniness (which I’ll take over phony love pining, but again, lower on the list). The music of Outkast is catchy, creative, and socially conscious (if also sexist), but Dre and Big Boi don’t really show me the emotions, they tell them to me. If anything, the samples and beats are used to trigger emotion, while their vocals betray nothing beyond cool bemusement. Same with Tribe, same with De La, same with Eric B. & Rakim, same with Everlast, El-P, and Aesop Rock (some White variants of the “Urban” label).
I can’t speak for everyone who ranks Urban artists lower than rock and jazz ones—especially those people whose standard for greatness is set by ridiculous 70’s progressive rock bands—but perhaps there are others who agree with me. I actually think Hip Hop is extremely well suited a genre to exploit emotions like excitement, dread, and reverent ecstasy as well as anger, but this would require artists to drop their reservations and really open up their hearts, which sounds wussy even writing it.
Still, this is the main thing I look for in music, and so if artists today are too tough or cool to really open up to me, then Stephin Merritt and I are just going to listen to the stuff that we can gush over. I’m not sure I’d swoon over a lot of artists in his collection, either, but that’s democracy for you.
End Rant!
A few years ago, the New Yorker’s Sasha Frere-Jones accused Stephin Merritt of being racist because, among other things, Merritt didn’t think much of today’s hip hop and R&B artists. I don’t think Frere-Jones’ argument was well-founded (he kind of ignored the obvious trend in Merritt’s taste: that of a gay man getting on in years), and I don’t think that one’s musical tastes determine if they are racist or not (plenty of openly racist people I’ve met listen to mostly rap), but the whole fiasco made explicit something that usually escapes mention: A lot of white Americans don’t like or respect contemporary hip hop and R&B nearly as much as they do rock, jazz, classical, etc.
This general opinion comes in several distinct variations, ranging from musical elitism (they’re not as sophisticated or original as other types of music), blatant racism (e.g. it’s “primitive” or “jungle” music), and a bunch of softer in-betweens.
…Including my own softer in-between. See, I often rank contemporary “urban” artists much lower in my list of preferences than those of other genres. I do like some hip hop and R&B, but rock, jazz, blues, classical and folk artists are way ahead in my book. I would also generalize to say that, with a few exceptions, black artists from recent years just don’t really move me that much.
So why is this? It’s not an argument from “rockism” or anything similar. I don’t like musical elitism. I think that we like what we like, and any musical snobbery that’s around today is an antiquated remnant of times when class determined how one lived and made merry. Put away the powdered wigs and get over yourselves, people.
And I don’t think I need to mention it, but racist explanations offered in this century for anything should be violently ignored. Simply. Stupid.
So why do Kanye, Will.I.Am., and Beyonce get less respect from me than Thom Yorke, Scott Walker, and Joanna Newsome? And why do I love black legends like Miles Davis but am lukewarm for lauded performers like Jay-Z?
I think the main explanation is actually pretty simple: for something to really connect with me, it has to provide an emotional release. The more powerful or complex the emotion elicited, the more I resonate with an artist and their work. I do like silly, fun music (e.g. Surfin Bird, Crank That), but none of it’s at the top of my list. Artists that can conjure joy (Stevie Wonder), melancholy (Joao Gilberto), anger (The Dead Kennedys), terror (Penderecki) ecstasy (John Coltrane, Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan) and strange mixtures of emotions (Astor Piazolla, Pere Ubu) are the ones that make me want to bow to them in reverence. They’re the ones that I really respect.
While this isn’t a racially-motivated opinion, there is a cultural/historical dimension to my distinction between “classic” black artists and the ones lumped as “urban,” and perhaps it’s this dimension that makes everyone jump to the possibility that racism motivates a dislike of rap.
The cultural/historical dimension is this: With the rise of hip hop in the 80’s, Black musicians became encouraged more and more to adapt a tough attitude that was more reflective of life on the street. Yes, gangsta rap is the most obvious example, but even peaceniks like Arrested Development and the Jungle Brothers have a cool distance in their delivery that’s far removed from Stevie Wonder’s unchecked emotional reverie. R&B eventually absorbed this attitude too, and naïve gushers like Whitney Houston’s “How Will I Know” were shelved for tunes with more ‘tude like those by Erykah Badu and R.Kelly.
I understand that this toughness and detachment is probably, to some extent, linked to a newfound sense of artistic independence among Black American artists. Look at the musical transformation of Michael Jackson: “ABC” --> “Rock With You” --> “Billie Jean” --> “Bad & Dirty Diana” --> “In the Closet” --> “Scream.” A morphing from boyish swooning to crotch grabbing badness to righteous indignation. Ever since the 80’s, artists no longer had to play nice like Sam Cooke and Louis Armstrong. Nowadays they can be Nasty, come Straight Outta Compton, and Like Big Butts on their Drunk’n’Hot Girls.
To be fair though, they can also be Prophets of Rage like Public Enemy and Ice Cube. And music by these artists vividly expresses the street-approved emotion of Anger. While I do rank these artists higher than more shallow rappers like Chingy and Birdman, another factor keeps me from fully identifying with any hardcore and gangsta rappers: the lyrics glorifying violence, misogyny, homophobia, and sometimes racism. I respect Chuck D and Ice Cube as artists, but perhaps not as people. Just like most Metal bands, there is a distance between us, regardless of the effective emotional component.
In addition to shedding the obligation to seem warm, friendly, and vulnerable, Black artists also seem to have tossed off the ambition to become Super-Musicians. A lot of white people today note that Black Music doesn’t have a Dizzie Gillespie, a Miles Davis, a Sun Ra, or even a Jimi Hendrix, while acts like Radiohead, Squarepusher, Bjork, etc., are continuing the tradition of generating impressive, creative, innovative output. This is somewhat true (in a superficial sense), but not only does it ignore impressive, creative, innovative and expressive output from Black artists like Prince and TV On the Radio, it also ignores the fact that legendary Black artists like Cab Calloway, James Brown, Marvin Gaye and others had to work their asses off to get noticed, and they still didn’t get the respect (or pay) they deserved until much later. They tried to be superhumans just to validate their humanity in the eyes of White America, and they still got the short shrift. Perhaps I’m wrong, but I think this lead to the opposing expectations for music we see today. A lot of White Americans have a more market-driven attitude of “Why should I respect or pay for an artist that doesn’t try his/her hardest to impress me?” while Black artists and fans perhaps think “Fuck you! The minstrel shows are over. We’re gonna do what we want to do.” So yeah, there are no more Black Super Musicians like Miles Davis, but maybe Miles Davis would be fine with that. Actually, his interviews from the 80’s suggest as much, especially his spat with jazz elitist Wynton Marsalis. After all, Rockism is so 70’s.
If these two theories of mine are true, I can respect why Black artists aren’t eager to make the next “Black Saint & the Sinner Lady” or “Talking Book.” But the fact remains that Urban music today is usually too detached to really move me. The sound of (and choreography for) “Single Ladies” blows me away, but Beyonce never in her songs reveals true emotion beyond cockiness and horniness (which I’ll take over phony love pining, but again, lower on the list). The music of Outkast is catchy, creative, and socially conscious (if also sexist), but Dre and Big Boi don’t really show me the emotions, they tell them to me. If anything, the samples and beats are used to trigger emotion, while their vocals betray nothing beyond cool bemusement. Same with Tribe, same with De La, same with Eric B. & Rakim, same with Everlast, El-P, and Aesop Rock (some White variants of the “Urban” label).
I can’t speak for everyone who ranks Urban artists lower than rock and jazz ones—especially those people whose standard for greatness is set by ridiculous 70’s progressive rock bands—but perhaps there are others who agree with me. I actually think Hip Hop is extremely well suited a genre to exploit emotions like excitement, dread, and reverent ecstasy as well as anger, but this would require artists to drop their reservations and really open up their hearts, which sounds wussy even writing it.
Still, this is the main thing I look for in music, and so if artists today are too tough or cool to really open up to me, then Stephin Merritt and I are just going to listen to the stuff that we can gush over. I’m not sure I’d swoon over a lot of artists in his collection, either, but that’s democracy for you.
End Rant!
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