He sits down in the comfortable chair behind the microphone, flips a switch to coax the “ON AIR” sign to life, takes a breath…Hey there, guys and gals; dudes and dudettes; kids of all ages! It’s time once again for the Electric Tower Power Hour! Playing the tracks from the stack of wax! Spinning the platters that matter! Off of the charts and into your hearts! From seven-thirty ‘til your clothes are dirty! I’m the cat that’ll take you back! So grab a glass of something that’ll make you feel like dancing as we jump into the Wayback Machine and boogie!
~ahem~
Let’s talk about music, shall we? It tames the savage beast, they say. It’s also one of the three aspirations of the “good life” (the other two being wine and women). Seems that we’re hardwired to create and respond to music – from lofty liturgical pieces to dirty dancing and block-rocking bass beats. Full orchestras to one guy pushing a slide guitar. A capella doo-wop quartets to talk box-driven arena rock.
Do you feel like I do?
I have a theory that’s been consistently borne out whenever I remember to pay attention. I believe that everybody has one song that they slip into whenever their brain goes into neutral. It keeps the neurons running hot so you can do a quick boot when you have to rejoin the world. Doesn’t matter if you even like the song, there’s just something about that particular arrangement of notes that fits snugly into the grooves of your mind. This is different from an earworm, though it operates on similar principles. The difference is that you’re usually very much aware of (and annoyed by) earworms. The phenomenon I’m referring to is one where you aren’t even aware that you’re singing, humming, whistling, or tapping out the song that is apparently track #1 on the soundtrack of your life. Mine is usually Pachelbel’s “Canon in D”. Not trying to be pretentious or anything; that’s just the one I catch myself humming. On occasion, my wife will burst out with the chorus to “Margaritaville,” much to her annoyance, because she hates Jimmy Buffet. A coworker of mine whistles that tune you usually hear associated with circuses. If it has a name, I don’t know it, though Three Dog Night used it as the opening to “The Show Must Go On.”
I think it’s fair to say that music in general has made society better. It provides a cultural mirror to observe ourselves in, sets the appropriate tone for certain occasions, or just gives us something to listen to while we fold laundry to help tolerate the drudgery. The reason this has been on my mind lately is that I saw recently where Neil Young has given up on any music changing the world.
“I think that the time when music could change the world is past," he told reporters. ”I think it would be very naive to think that in this day and age."
I think Neil’s just being pissy because it wasn’t any of his songs. I hope he’ll remember a Southern Man don’t need him around anyhow. (Since he’s Canadian, that means everyone in the States.)
Personally, I’ve always thought Mr. Young was too damned whiny. I always get the feeling that he’s wagging his finger at his listeners (until he chopped one of them off, anyway). It’s not the genre; I can groove on the folk rock style. I like Jim Croce, James Taylor, Gordon Lightfoot, etc. I don’t even mind the pie-in-the-sky idealism of the 60s groups (that cultural mirror I mentioned earlier). Neil - and by extension, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young - just always sounds shrill to me. I’ll admit that Young is a good lyricist. I like Cinnamon Girl, (and just to note, if you haven’t heard Type O Negative’s cover of that, you’re missing out), I’d just rather read his stuff than listen to him bloviate at me.
The problem is that no two people have the exact same taste in music. Even if you both like a song, you’re going to get different things out of it, so how can music change anything towards a common goal when it changes people in different ways?
I think this is why remaking songs is more accepted than remaking movies. Movies are successful because the director gets the audience to buy in to his realization of the material. When that many people agree on something, remaking it is very tricky. There’s an agreed-upon template for how that story should be presented – from the wardrobe and lighting to the mannerisms of the characters. Even the subtle things like the types of lenses used can affect the presentation. Think about it – would 300 have been as successful if it had been rotoscoped, like A Scanner Darkly? Probably not.
Songs, by contrast, are open to interpretation. Artists can play with scales and keys, rhythm and tempo – in effect, creating a song that is at once familiar and brand new. A lot of successful bands got their start doing covers, introducing their own material once the audience agreed that they were worth listening to. I have a lot of covers in my collection: Alanis’ cover of Seal’s Crazy, the requisite versions of Tainted Love, and various Weird Al polka remixes. I have a version of Pour Some Sugar on Me by Emm Gryner that’s presented as a ballad, and a version of Mad World that was rewritten as a dark, emo-type song. The aforementioned Cinnamon Girl is in heavy rotation right now. They also cover Summer Breeze and Hit Me Baby One More Time. It’s worth a listen. Anytime you have a 6’6 ½” guy from Brooklyn with a voice than can blow out your subwoofer covering a Pop Tart hit, fun ensues.
Even though song covers are generally accepted, you still have to be careful. When Limp Bizkit covered Behind Blue Eyes, I enjoyed it right up to the point that he dropped the bridge of the song. Don’t edit, people. There are certain parts we expect to hear. It’s especially annoying when radio stations edit songs for length. I know you have to cover over “You’re such a fucking hypocrite” when you air Seether’s Fake It, but cutting Zakk Wylde’s solo from No More Tears really pisses me off. The whole song builds to that one fretburn, and I’m primed to headbang. When you cut it, I use that built-up adrenaline to punch the Scan button.
Another reason music won’t change the world is that there are too many categories. Rock, Classic Rock, Southern Rock, Oldies, Contemporary, Jazz, Swing, Marimba, Big Band, Zydeco, Classical, Techno, Trance, House, Rave, Trip Hop, Hip Hop, Rap, Gangsta Rap, Old School, Beat Box, Grunge, Alternative, Emo, Metal, Speed Metal, Thrash Metal, NuMetal, Death Metal, Goth Metal, Goth, Grave, Pop, Punk, Rockabilly, Psychobilly, Roadhouse, Country, New Country, Latin, Gospel, Disco, Folk, Bluegrass…and that’s just off the top of my head. If I had more than four readers, I’d be getting e-mails listing dozens that I forgot.
I seriously doubt Green Day is going to start a movement when people don’t even agree on which category they belong in.
Again, I just think Neil Young is jealous. If anyone’s music was going to change the world, Cliff Richard had the best chance. He holds the record for most singles sold (21 million), and has been credited on the most Top 40 hits (122). On the other hand, Elvis Presley holds the record for most continuous weeks on the Top 40 (1060), the longest span of hits (51 ½ years), longest continuous run on the Top 40 (135 weeks), most simultaneous Top 40 hits (7), most Top 10 hits (76) [Cliff Richard is second with 66], and the most new Top 40 hits in one year (12). I like Heartbreak Hotel as much as the next person, but it’s hardly a call to action like Do You Hear the People Sing from Les Miserables.
Even songs that deliberately attempt to change the world usually fall far short. We are the World only raised $63 million. Artists that participated were famously told to “check your egos at the door.” If they, by contrast, had just written a check for $1.5 million each, it would have made the same amount of money, and we wouldn’t have had to sit through ad nauseum airings. Ironically, Crosby, Stills, Nash, & Young declined to participate. They also failed to participate in any of the three Band Aid efforts.
So much for changing the world, Neil.
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