A musical interlude

At the Grammy Awards last month, two vaguely “retro” songs received top honors; Record of Year—which takes into account writing, producing and performance—went to Goyte’s “Someone I Used to Know,” while Song of the Year—which recognizes the quality of the composition itself—went to Fun’s “We Are Young.” I have to confess that I recognized neither one of these songs, which I assumed was due to not receiving much airplay on what passes for Seattle’s “top-40” radio stations, still dominated by rap, hip-hop and other urban “music.” It pains my ears to think that this is what succeeded the sweet sounds of Motown of the Sixties and Philly Soul of the Seventies, and  barely kept on life support by Lionel Ritchie in the Eighties; those days are long gone, and it will be the misfortune of many a generation that it is likely never to return. There has been a few instances where today’s “artists” have “covered” old tunes with proper song structure that didn’t require electronically-altered vocals or bizarre singing gymnastics to call attention to the narcissistic “artist” rather than the song; unfortunately, there is no evidence that the great songs they cover have any influence on them creatively; the old chestnuts are merely rendered unrecognizable and incomprehensible. More usually, we have Beyonce—who can’t hold a candle to Diana Ross, the vocal prowess of whom made a great song greater—whose theatrics makes the mediocre songs she sings as substantial as a tasteless soufflé in comparison.

Anyways, on principle I don’t usually watch the Grammy’s anymore because I just don’t care about what I see or hear. But in the quest of a topic I long wanted to address—the constant recycling of the same dozen songs on the “hits” radio stations for months at a time—I decided to check out last year’s number one hits on the Billboard’s principle Hot 100 chart and see just how ossified the “pop” music scene had become. I decided to give a listen to a half-dozen songs—the abovementioned pair, Taylor Swift’s “We Are Never Getting Back Together,” Rihanna’s “Diamonds,” Maroon 5’s “One More Night” and Katy Perry’s “Part of Me.” I chose these songs not merely because they were chart-toppers, but being a fair-minded kind of guy, they offered the best chance of capturing my ear. 

This was frankly a deprived lot to choose from. The reason why the “hits” of today have such a long shelf-life is simply because the pool to choose from is so light. Hits of the past did typically have a short “shelf-life,” but that was because there were dozens of other potential hits waiting in line. Consider: In the 104-week span that encompassed the years 1974 and 1975, there were 70 Number One hits. Of course, there are those who question the validity of chart equations from that time, but to my ear almost every song of the pre-Soundscan era that topped the charts was legit. 1974 and 1976 were my favorite years for hit songs, and the year-end Top-100 countdowns left out many a big hit. One of my favorite songs of 1974—Barry White’s “Can’t Get Enough of Your Love”—was a number one hit, yet it failed to make the top 100 hits of the year (on the other hand, his “Never, Never Gonna Give You Up” did make the chart, even though it “only” peaked at number 4). 

The decline of the top-40 began in the 1980s, although at first it wasn’t noticeable when listening to radio airplay. But the weekly AT-40 saw an undeniable trend: The obvious hits quickly advanced into the top-ten, while it was a rare commercially-viable song that populated 11 through 40, unless it was song on its way up or down, or a song from an establishment star going out of style but still having a loyal fan base (like Elton John). This was in stark contrast to the Seventies. I have the original broadcast of the AT-40 countdown of March 3, 1974 on mp3; I have a very selective ear, but there is not a single moment where I feel the need to fast forward. Even songs I dislike on principle, like Tom T. Hall’s “I Love”—“I love music, when it’s good” my ass—at least offers a curious contrast when side-by-side a truly sublime song like the Moments’ “Sexy Mama.” The eclecticism inherent of the era was present—Gordon Sinclair’s spoken-word “The Americans” was an improbable “hit,” and  the novelty song “Spiders and Snakes” displayed a sense of humor that is entirely absent from today’s music, where the self-pitying dreck of Adele (that decent James Bond theme excepted) has its multitude of adherents and critical acclaim (which says a great deal about the society we live in now);  maybe it is something like the Mad magazine caricature I recall, that suggested that anyone with a British accent can sell you a bag of dog doo. 

Even the “instrumental” was still going as strong as it had during the previous two decades of the so-called “Rock Era,” with the Love Unlimited Orchestra’s “Love’s Theme” having topped the chart three weeks prior;  the fact that the pop instrumental has been dead for at least two decades demonstrates the lack of attention to musical production and musicianship generally. There were of course some minor hiccups in the downward trend that began in the Eighties, but my favorite record of that decade is The Essential Bangles compilation—mainly because the Bangles’ "retro" sound had very little to do with the Eighties. 

By the 1990s the advent of the new Soundscan system turned everything on its ear—especially when Garth Brooks’ Ropin’ the Wind—from which there was not even one crossover single—debuted at Number One on the pop album chart and stayed there for 18 weeks. While the Soundscan method might more accurately reflect sales, it has also acted to close-off “alternative” styles before they have a chance to become commercially viable. Some music critics have decried the fact that the music industry—by “milking” dry the commercial “appeal” of a limited number of songs and styles—has kept opposing styles out of the mainstream and thus limiting their potential to encourage a major shift away from the urban “music” which seems to have continued virtually unchanged for almost 20 years, and thus discouraging artistic development. It would appear to me that Grammy voters recognized this when they gave “We Are Young” and “Someone I Used to Know” top honors, and they wanted to encourage a “change” in direction. In the past, black music was the mover and shaker; now the arbiters of musical direction seem incapable of movement.  The failure of “hit” radio to supply an eclectic variety of music means that young listeners are not being exposed to different potential influences. 

But I digress. That usually happens when I talk about a topic that is such an important part of my existence. I don’t generally discriminate against musical genres; that a song is tight and tuneful is all that matters. Remember the character of Johnny Fontaine in The Godfather? He was played by Al Martino, and I have several of his songs on my mp3 player, and how could I ignore songs by  rock and roll haters like Frank Sinatra (“That’s Life”) and Dean Martin (“Everybody Loves Somebody,” used in those Western Union commercials from the 90s). I also have room for such “lowbrow” fare as Spike Jones’ 1942 “Der Fuhrer’s Face.”

I’m not “above” the classics either—Rossini’s “William Tell Overture,” the third movement from Rachmaninoff’s piano Concerto No. 2, and Tchaikovsky’s “Waltz of the Flowers” from the Nutcracker Suite all occupy some precious space on my $15 USB device. I didn’t listen to this stuff when I was a kid; I can only explain it by the fact that much of Seventies’ music utilized lush orchestration that had much in common with classical forbearers, and some artists were more overt in their reverence to classicism; in 1972 the group Apollo had a top-ten hit with “Joy” which was direct from Bach, while the Walter Murphy Band did a disco take on the “Fifth of Beethoven,” and Eric Carmen “borrowed” from the second movement of the aforementioned piano concerto in “All By Myself”—although the song’s finale almost certainly is copped from the third movement rather than the second. 

Alright, now back to the issue at hand.  Taylor Swift is supposed to be a country “artist”—“country” meaning a “final” bastion of “traditional” music? I don't think so. “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together”—her first number one hit on the mainstream chart—has that electronically-altered vocal I despise so much. Swift writes some of her own material, I understand (and not necessarily with 15 other “writers” on the same song), and while the title of the song might seem to fit right in the Country Canon, it is unfortunately about teenage angst and self-involvement, and has nothing to do with about real-life experience or self-examination. Having achieved success at an early age—meaning she didn’t “pay her dues”—anything Swift has to “say” is lacking in credibility and has nothing to do with Country music’s traditions, which spoke to difficulties in just getting by in love and life. 

Rihanna’s “Diamonds” is supposedly influenced by Soul and Eighties music. Sorry, I was there when the “soul” era peaked in the Seventies, as well as being quite familiar with the Eighties’ “Me Generation” pretensions. “Soul” was a musical form that had emotional integrity, and was often propelled by lush string arrangements.  Rihanna’s singing on “Diamonds”, as is typical of contemporary artists when they make feeble attempts to bottle the magic of the past in a new formula, is monotonous and emotionally uninvolving—made worse by a one-note drum track that betrays the absence of “rhythm” and a barely-there music track. 

 I will simply say about Maroon 5’s “One More Night” is that it represents the final nail in the coffin of the group’s abandonment of the pop melodies of its debut album Songs about Jane. As for Katy Perry’s “Part of Me,” I’ve said in the past that I actually like a couple of her songs, but not this bone-dull tune, which seems to be this narcissist’s critique of her equally narcissistic ex-husband. Perry’s fans might take offense at my calling her a narcissist; after all, she has only released four-count-them-four DVDs with the following titles: The Outrageous World of Katy Perry—The Story of Katy Perry; Katy Perry - Good Girl Gone Bad; Katy Perry: The Girl Who Ran Away; and the latest, Katy Perry The Movie: Part of Me. Are you kidding me? And none of these are actual concert videos—that is the only “part” of her I'm interested in.

That leaves the two songs that received the top honors at the Grammys. “Somebody I Used to Know” is composed by the Belgian-Australian musician Goyte, and sung by him and someone who calls herself Kimbra.  The song has a certain lightweight poignancy, something about a man who thought he was in a relationship “right” for him, but which turned out to be a fraud. But the song itself doesn’t “stick.” The instrumental track is minimal, with only a quirky xylophone adding any texture to the musical background; thus such lazy lines as “And that feels so rough” and “Now and then I think of all the times you screwed me over” become doubly awkward and cringe-inducing. 

That leaves Fun’s “We Are Young.” Now this song sounded promising; it has an irresistible “hook” and the power-pop vocal is propelled by it, rather than trying “create” something out of nothing. Even the keyboardist is given something to do on the musical track; Fats Domino and Jerry Lee Lewis would be appreciative even with this tepid effort. However, I don’t recall ever hearing this on the contemporary hits radio stations; if I had, I certainly would have remembered it. There is no doubt that this is so far afield from rap and hip-hop that holds sway on those stations that you can only find “alternatives” on outlying “alternative” radio; but the song’s success is demonstrative of the fact that there is an audience that hungers for “alternatives,” and while I don’t see this in any way an indication that a new musical era is right around the corner, the fact that even Grammy voters appear to want a change from same monotonous sound year after year suggests that traditional song structure, melody and singing is not completely dead, and still has a waiting audience.