How Frankenstein Antics and Tecnological Gimmickry Deadens Musical Influence

by TYLER CLAIR SMITH

When I’m old I’ll tell my grandchildren of rainbow-gleaming discs we stuck in little trays. The trays sucked back into machines with knobs and buttons. The machines even had lasers in those days (can you imagine?) and they scanned the little discs, interpreting the information into noise that came out of speakers. (This was before music was pumped directly into your temporal lobe, of course.)

Once I witnessed the antiquation of compact discs in the form of garish yard art. Some neo-folk sculptor wired them together into flamingos and frogs that could peek out from behind your geraniums for a modest price of one hundred dollars.

Yes, CDs. They’re going the way of the buffalo. I could count on one hand the number of albums I have purchased in the form of an actual, physical artifact (aside from vinyl) within the last two years.

Recently, someone bought for me Bringing It All Back Home by Mr. Robert Zimmerman on, you guessed it, compact disc. Having already downloaded that miracle of modern rock straight to my laptop via iTunes, I happily clutched the gift receipt and journeyed to the record store for a gleeful stroll down memory lane. It’s adventurous browsing a record store—sampling fifteen seconds worth of four-minute songs, deciphering that particular store’s method of alphabetization. (”S” for “Simon, Paul” or “P” for “Paul Simon”? “S” for “Shins, The” or T for “The Shins”?) And there’s nothing better than seeing the latest 50 Cent album misplaced in the children’s section next to music from Yo Gabba Gabba.

Were it not for that dizzying odyssey, however, I would have never discovered The Velvet Underground. While debating whether or not to subsidize the cost of Pennebacker’s Dylan doc Don’t Look Back with the money from my return, an out of place album with a banana on the front caught my eye. Momentarily discarding the DVD, I picked up Andy Warhol by The Velvet Underground and Niko. I had, of course, heard of The Velvet Underground. I have been a fan of The Violent Femmes since college, and suspected that The Velvets could provide that same, sloppy art-house rock The Femmes introduced to me so many years prior. On a whim, I grabbed The Best of the Velvet Underground (a title which usually means “the only songs you’ve ever heard of by these guys”), returning the Dylan disc.

On the way home, I popped the album in. I was so stunned by the second track (“Run, Run, Run”) that I am ashamed to admit, I uttered a near blasphemous statement: “Dylan is a square.” I choked on the words, immediately praying for forgiveness. Fast-forward six months later and my last.fm account reflects the fact that no matter how endearing to me the group initially was, The Velvet Underground has not come close to dethroning the thin man from his position as number one.

Nevertheless, that immediate euphoria of discovery continues to compel me to revisit old artists, in the same way that some of us are frantically searching for emerging artists. Recently it was Billy Joel, and even the 90s ska outfit Five Iron Frenzy. Too often we are searching for the next Sufjan Stevens and instead come up with the momentarily interesting but ultimately dissatisfying Gnarls Barkley or K.T. Tunstall. There are more hipster songsters crowding the “series of tubes” of the Internet than you can shake a shtick at. “You gotta hear this guy! He’s got this reggae/hip-hop/folk/psychedelic/bluegrass vibe!” Is this music or some Frankenstein monster? We’re constantly called to engage with derivatives instead of the source. (Reggae? Listen to Marley. Hip-hop? Listen to the Beastie Boys. Folk? Try Nick Drake. Psychedelic? Big Brother and the Holding Company. Bluegrass? Bill Monroe.)

Is there a place for the melding of genres? Absolutely. Any artist can appreciate various musical styles. As an artist, he or she will bring those influences to bear on his or her music. The question is if we are, in this example, drawn to the artists because of a disingenuous amalgamation of styles or rather the organic interpretation of those artist’s influences. The same goes for the various gimmicks that permeate the indie music world. Are we listening to that singer-songwriter because of the looping they use in their live performances, or is the material itself enhanced by the technology?

To borrow a phrase that has been employed in theology, we must cast our anchor into the past to pull us toward the future. The resurgence of the live show as the centerpiece of modern music demonstrates this ancient-future principle. Nowadays artists are even artificially injecting their music with the grit that naturally accompanied the old hi-fi recordings. The 80s obsession with clean-machine production has been replaced with a postmodern desire for authenticity. (Never mind that this “authenticity” is manufactured in Pro-Tools!)

As technology progresses artists must rely upon it as a tool to enhance their material. And we, the listeners, instead of feverishly searching for artists who constantly cross-pollinate genres, can look to the staid artists of rock history as indicators of what will truly last. The physical counterparts to the music (records, cassettes, CDs) may find themselves as garden statues. However, as musicians progress and are influenced by a greater number of artists and styles, there is the danger that the music itself will become a kitschy, hastily thrown together homage to days (and art) gone by. Like a garish junk sculpture, it will be acknowledged for the oddity it is but will contribute nothing to the overall progress of the art form. It will leave succeeding generations with one less truly significant influence from our time.

T Clair is a regular contributor to Into the Hill. He is a writer, cartoonist, musician and minister residing in Montgomery, Al. To read his thoughts on art and God, visit his blog: www.iblogodei.com.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, November 18th, 2008 at 10:26 pm and is filed under Miracle Valley. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.