And so ends the sermon from Master Bangs. Although there will always be changing movements within music, its all just a joke anyway, so never fear. New will replace the old, and crazes will constantly ebb and flow with the passing of time. But the point on the PARTY is an apt one, as provided the artists don't take themselves too seriously, regardless of what they are producing, it should be enjoyed (if it is any good at all – and that is wholly different topic). The music needs to be heard, as long as it is not a psychological throw down with a furrowed brow and cynicism too overt.
But were these words for a more innocent time? In a sense, the sentiments ring as true as they did for the 70's but in a world of obviously manufactured superstars, and clear business plans, can we still argue that we are within an age when the clown is just being a clown? Lady Gaga and her clothes - her pokerface? Katy Perry, the ubiquitous, the coy woman from "I Kissed A Girl" to the tottering barbie doll that is dominating the airwaves with hit after hit? And I cannot help but mention that I could barely restrain the slight taste of bile at a snippet of Adele's gushing acceptance speech at the "oh so relevant" Grammys. You like me? You really like me?
The Guardian ran an article last month, "In Theory: the death of literature", which, admittedly, is perhaps guilty of the deeply intellectual head scratching which Bangs waxes vociferously against. However, the author, in reviewing a particular piece of overtly academic work, reacts to theories on the conundrum of emulation and repetition in the quest for originality. Has everything already been said, or is there something that is truly new and original that one can create? Is all work that we consume now - art, music, literature - merely a pastiche of something else, which in turn had also merely drawn from a predecessor? Of course, as a race, we are particularly predisposed to draw rational links between works, illusory or not. And we are certainly in a position that one cannot ever claim, at any point, to be starting completely on a virgin slate (as it were). The amount of work, and creativity, that has preceded cannot be forgotten, and in any artist's rise to competence - genius - there would be vast quantities of ideas and patterns consumed whilst learning skills. One would think that this cannot be forgotten or disposed of, but rather that it must become woven into that artist's genetic build.
In a comment to the above article by PaulBowes01, he succinctly points out the weakness in the various arguments, namely "No creative artist ever really accepts the fact of belatedness, even if he or she finds it useful - or temperamentally congenial - as a pose : a way of avoiding unwanted comparison with the giants of the past by appearing to admit defeat in advance. Creativity is always 'new again'; that's rather the point of it." I would imagine that no artist would create if they felt that they had nothing to add, nothing to say, it would seem to be a meaningless exercise that would be self-defeating in the extreme.
However, to my mind, the music industry is currently suffering from the weight of its own persona. Record companies are still struggling with the digital age, with a solution seeming to pass ever distant over the horizon. By contrast, however, I believe that the consumer is battling under somewhat extreme listener's fatigue. Radio is over-saturated with the "hits" that are played on an endless repeat until something else comes in, and the internet is awash with so many artists that it is extremely difficult to draw distinctions between them. An example that comes to mind is Girls who exploded to indie fanfare with Album - an album about, unsurprisingly, girls. It was pretty, retro, surf-rock that was sufficiently different to distinguish themselves from much of what was considered "popular" within indie circles at the time. Having said this, the backwards wink to Buddy Holly and Elvis Costello was hard to miss, and it certainly was something that the band drew criticism for. Despite all of this, and irrespective of opinions on the music, it was actually the back story of lead singer Christopher Owens that really seemed to attract the spotlight onto the band. As if to say, "you should listen to this guy because look at what he has gone through", a disappointing concession if ever there was one. It is true though, as although it does not appear to be a problem being heard (anyone want to look at how many "indie" artists are cropping up in TV series at the moment?), there is certainly the difficulty in being remembered.
I am conscious, however, that instilled in this rant is a complete ignorance of the lesson preached by Lester Bangs. I am over-analyzing, when I should be enjoying the PARTY rather than catching myself within the maelstrom of "indie commentator". This is all too serious, and too critical. Perhaps I am a product of my era, and in a nod to the film Margin Call, we are talking of a deep rooted cynicism caused by the mantra that as long as people are making money, it doesn't matter who gets hurt. It’s not an excuse, I know. But if there is any creative industry that has suffered from the interference of the fat cats, it is the music industry. One would have to think that this cynicism that we have been caught in, as a result, must be a lethal combination. I do believe that we, as consumers, have started to instill a mold of musical studiousness that is somewhere between a bewildered inability to keep up with all the new bands, and the experience to be able to quote references and genre defining characteristics. That classic situation from High Fidelity where the customer chides Cusack and cohorts for being far too superior, and creating an elite society from whence they could criticise without being willing to share the knowledge and allow the erosion of elitism. We want the music, but we don’t know how to get it without feeling robbed by the MAN, and we certainly don’t know how to still feel “unique”, even if we want to.
It is a tension that Bang himself could not escape. In firstly revolting against those people unable to appreciate the simplicity of Wild Thing but then bemoaning the consumer for being too serious, and proceeding to analyse the situation himself. In a serious fashion. But I do believe he is correct when he says that music has become overly weighted by its own facade - the glamour of the lifestyle, the music made by fans for fans, the perfect presentation of the artists, the plastic sheen that glosses the popular artists, the uniforms within the specific genres...and worst of all, the apparent necessity to "move with the times" irrespective of what that means. It was a profound disappointment on hearing Wilco on The Whole Love, with an opening track that was a blatant, clumsy, nod at Kid A. It was crass, and especially when the remainder of the album slotted more into their old ways, albeit unevenly. The point was made with their career defining Yankee Hotel Foxtrot but the difference there was that they made the album they wanted to make. The Whole Love felt like an album that marketing insisted on with the consequence that the band found themselves fighting for ground at every turn, and bullishly resisting to the last. It calls to mind the new album from The Twilight Sad, who have teamed up with a prominent electronic producer, in an effort to spruce up their gloomy post rock for the new decade. Sadly, this seems to have served to produce an album that still sounds like them, but replete with various electronic tics and quirks.
These deep rooted insecurities that we now face as a music fans is now compounded by the fact that the slow years have begun, and I am afraid that we are now knee-deep in the wait for the new craze. Chillwave or whatever electronic is the new byword, but already it seems this is being greeted by ever-increasing somberness (much as the short lived rust belt lo-fi bands such as Times New Viking, forced to reinvent themselves between debut and sophomore, as did all those bands - No Age being another example) and enthusiasm is waning already. The "new" seems to be a sound that is heavily indebted to the 80's, where braying synths are once again taking pride of place as the gut-punch riff to drive a song. Leaving aside my deeply ingrained hatred for music of this era, at least back when it came out, it was something new. People were playing with new technology, they were casting aside musical preconceptions that were so deeply ingrained by the "founders" of rock 'n' roll. Bands like Cabaret Voltaire were out there, as were any other number of do-it-yourself renegades of the late 70's and early 80's. The early punks, before they became a pastiche of themselves, were raw, bashing away on instruments like curious children without the vaguest clue as to what they were doing. The Wire, peddling their rock minimalism were different, as were their successors, the Feelies, with their metronomic nerdy take on indie rock. The Replacements were unabashed in their contempt for the era, drunkenly swaying from one disaster to the next, before the inevitable implosion in the hangover fugue.
The 80's couldn't sustain the excess, and so the novelty and innovation was inevitably short-lived before the production lines became properly established and the "boom" years began. The artists truly at the vanguard of creativity were quickly forced to grow up, and produce, or find themselves cast aside. This is a fact of life, and for whatever reason. Perhaps this is the true underlying point to Bangs' writing - his innate refusal to grow up, but fully aware that he could no longer pretend to be naive on the movement of time, and the realities of greed.
By all means, it is a necessary rite of passage for a musician to have respect for those that have come before, but one would hope that this is replete with a slight reserve for what you are doing. That slight sense of "I got my own thing now", and if you're Keith Richards recycling Chuck Berry riffs, well, play them in open G, and just go out and teach yourself as you make noise. Then again, the Stones haven't been relevant since the 60's, and Richards is now amongst the worst of the old guard. To quote W.B. Yeats, "Things fell apart, the centre cannot hold" - it is a self-perpetuating cycle, whatever you say about it.
Nowadays though, there is possibly a sense of revivalist culture that is too austere, too revert, as if to say, "my idols did this best, and I can only hope to cover, never outdo." The sounds are too alike, the patterns too formulaic. There isn't that youthful middle finger to the establishment, the impervious desire to take something, rearrange it, and brashly sound it out at the forefront of the new movement. It will come, mind, but it seems we're in that limbo whilst we all await that "new" thing to emerge. The 80's are back, in a big way, but at the moment, there are too many cover bands, too many studious revivalists that sound as if they have been waiting too long in the shade. For my part, it saddens me, but then I am a member of the (now) old guard, who is saddened to see a trend change, and a movement fade in favour of new pastures.
The PARTY never stops, and so it will just be a matter of keeping one's ears open, and waiting patiently. There are a lot of "serious" people out there - the hipsters adorn the pavements - and I think, with some amusement, on that scene from How To Make It In America, where the successful hipster designer has exchanged his wild, tattooed days for a self-sustaining co-op in Brooklyn and night-time bicycle rides. It was no surprise to see the cancellation of the show, given that "cool" seemed to outweigh substance. But for the music, there is lots already out there, so we can bide our time and keep ourselves on some form of life-support whilst we await something else. But maybe the warning should be simply that when the next "something" arrives, its not worth over-analysing. Just enjoy it - even if it may be difficult to pretend that this is all just simple.
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