Adventures

I do consider myself qualified to contribute to this discussion, given my extensive reading and thought about pop music, and largely due to the fact that I intend to study this music for a living. Here’s why Journey, Groban, and Michael Bubble suck: (I’m going to try to keep this from being too ethnomusicological) they lack authenticity. Cross culturally, music that is accepted as valuable must also be seen as authentic—you and I don’t buy into those cats because they seem to be contrived by the capitalist musical industrial complex.  While Suffey is certainly contrived in his own way (how much jangly banjo can one take in a lifetime?!?!), we see him as more authentic because we can relate to his musical explorations—for me, at least, his work has exhibited the kind of growth I expect out of a post-Beatles American Pop musician.  What makes Journey lame is their insistent adherence to the corny 80’s rock that made them famous—we see no growth (and, thus by commonly accepted definitions of modern American pop, no substance), and we see that they lack authenticity.  If Journey’s insistence on sticking to one style were part of a traditional folk music formation (electric guitars and synthesized bass aside), we may attribute their lack of contribution to music’s advancement to subscription to their oral tradition—thus they don’t exhibit what we would consider to be authentic music making. In some ways, it’s relative to who is listening to the music, but there are certain expectations a well-educated modern listener should have in any culture to judge “good” from “bad” music.  In this case, what makes each of these artists cheesy is that the world moved on without them—bands were hipper than Journey in 1980, and Journey never got more hip than they were then. Groban wants to be Bocelli for adult contemporary radio, and Michael Buble makes Bobby Darin look like Frank Sinatra. An educated listener would be (rightly) annoyed by the meaningless nostalgia displayed in these bands music—a nostalgia that seems to be pandering to a mindless audience that doesn’t want to be challenged by their bubblegum pop.

That’s exactly why the artists that tend to make people uncomfortable tend to be the most important, or “best.” And for me, I’m sick of hearing the same shit over and over again—I like it when somebody puts sounds together in new ways.  I love Aretha, but I thought Amy Winehouse pulled something new out of that soul genre—she was grittier, and her band dripped with drug-fueled strip club sensuality that would have made Aretha, a preacher’s daughter, blush, even with her empowered woman persona. Maybe that’s what made people so uncomfortable about her, but that’s exactly what made her good. Shit, Tony Bennett said she was as good as Ella! And he would know. 

Here’s the thing—the crowd called Dylan “Judas” when he went electric. Folks who are resistant to new sounds get left behind, and folks who cling to old ones just look silly—watch Lawrence Welk with some old folks sometime.

Not to mention, journey just blows—read any of their lyrics for god’s sake, or listen to any of their records. Find me a melody on any of those.  

Although, in all fairness, their drummer has some killer jazz chops—doesn’t mean the band’s music is valuable long-term, but he can groove okay when he’s not playing lame dad-rock.

Another point—there’s a difference between value and pleasure—you can enjoy listening to goat-orgies, but that doesn’t mean that it’s valuable, or even interesting, music. While different sounds may appeal to each of us (admittedly, I like the 80’s vibe on some of Journey’s records), it takes some intellectual muscle to determine whether something is “good” or “bad.” Ultimately, history and the gods of rock will decide about Journey, but objectively their music doesn’t reach the lofty heights set for it by their predecessors and successors in American Rock and Roll.

irregular221b:

I’m not saying Journey or Josh Groban or Michael Buble are BAD music.

I’m not saying Sufjan Stevens is GOOD music.

I’m really not qualified to make those kinds of judgments about what is “good” and “bad” music artistically, and I know that, though I could provide a convincing argument about why Sufjan Stevens is a better than Journey.

These are just the things that I like or don’t like.

“They see in their faith what they want to see as they live their daily lives, and simultaneously ignore the rest. And as is the case for most White Evangelical Christians, what they are ignoring is actually the very heart and soul of Jesus’s message — a message that emphasizes sharing, not greed. Peace-making, not war-mongering. Love, not violence.”

Read this article.  Period. Just read it.  Thanks to amerikanerblues for posting this on Facebook today.

http://www.religiousintelligence.com/christianity/why-evangelicals-hate-jesus/

So, I’ve finally put a name on a big struggle I have.  I have trouble getting small.  (What an awful, horrible way to start off my first blog entry on the tumblr, but I figure let’s jump right in, shall we?)  Yesterday in my improv class, I had a lot of trouble taking a portion of Bird’s classic, Donna Lee (from the pickup of bar 5 through bar 6) through all 12 keys. That should have been easy for me as a guitarist, but I really struggled, even though all I needed to do to pull that off successfully was to learn it in 2 (although I discovered a 3rd possibility today) positions, and have those travel through the key centers. Stick with me if you’re not a musician.

As an assignment for the same class, I have to take in a portion of a solo to work as an exercise tomorrow. Now, after much debate, I narrowed on an artist—Wes Montgomery.  And after much more debate, I’ve narrowed it town to three tracks—two from Smokin’ at the Half Note and a youtube video of “Gone with the Wind.” However, I’ve listened to these solos over and over, and I’m having a hard time finding one statement that I like superior to the others that I can extract as something I “want to learn.”  When I hear Wes, or any jazz (or non jazz) greats play, I hear a conversation.

Now, I understand to have a successful conversation, you first have to have an understanding of syntax, grammar, and even a flair for poetry if you want it to be an interesting one.  However, I’ve always thought there was more to a conversation than simply putting words together with proper grammar and some neat metaphors. 

I’ve always hated lick-oriented guitarists (specifically—we tend to do it more than most other musicians—maybe because we have a large body of questionable work we can draw from—one would never learn to play cello from Yellowcard records, but plenty of people learn guitar from them) because I feel like there’s no personality in what they’re doing—a lick for G, a lick for C, a lick for D.  That sort of blues guitar makes me want to get in the bathtub with a hairdryer.

I’ve also always hated people who beat their phrases to death—using “like” for situations other than metaphors, or otherwise beating phrases to death, as I have been known to drunkenly beat silly colloquial expressions such as “heart to heart” to death. (You see what I did there?)

Yet I understand that having the ability to use these phrases effectively is important.  Metaphors are important when they’re not overused, and what respectable jazz musician can’t play “Now’s the Time,” or one of the hundreds of other riff blues tunes?

So here’s the issue, what separates “Blue Monk” from “Incessant Jerking Off Because I Only Have so Many Ideas in my Bag?” My argument is that “Blue Monk” is a cohesive, coherent idea, and “IJOBIOHSMIIMB” is not.  I get that, I’ve always understood that pretty well.

My issue, though, is this: how do I pick the best of Monk?  I never could do this in English classes either: Huck Finn isn’t a brilliant work because of the sentences—it’s a brilliant work because of the book—the cohesive whole.  I always had a hard time picking out the important sentences, because I got lost in the glory of the entire work. 

I have this same problem with music—the Wes solos I’m looking at are all cohesive works of musical prowess—how could I possibly pick one section I want to practice more than the others when each note is essential to where he takes the solo, musically and emotionally? I brought in a transcription of a Wayne Shorter solo to a lesson one day, and the first question I asked is “What do I do with this now?” I have a hard time finding the little nuggets in the big pile of gold, with music and other things—I can’t reduce transformative experiences in my life down to one single moment either. 

I know there are probably a lot of people who have the opposite problem—it’s hard for some folks to see the “forest for the trees.” (One of those English language blues jerk-off licks I hate so much.) However, I feel like this may be one of those things that can seriously hamper someone’s view of the world—how not being able to dig in can affect your musicianship, how not understanding how a selection of an individual line, nay word, can affect your poetry, how a poorly expressed thought can cause damage to a relationship.  How do you get small if you’re a “big picture” (contemplating sticking a copper fork in an electrical outlet) person?

These are the things I think about.

Some of us may need to have a heart to heart.

—M