This is your brain on Beyonce

Note: Lemonade has made this article obsolete. Perhaps it should be renamed, This Was Your Brain on Beyonce...until Formation.

Bey's surprise album was big news last year, and my main point of familiarity with the album was the ubiquitous, "I woke up like this" hashtags and tee shirts that followed in its wake, which I actually thought was a brilliant slice of irony, since no one in history has ever woke up looking like this:

Not even her.

So imagine my surprise when I found that the song it came from was actually a badly misjudged attempt at female empowerment, and my bewilderment that the world at large fell for it.

I'm gonna break the Beygency's gag order and lay this on the line: Beyonce is a mediocre feminist. Let's break down the song in question point by point:

I know when you were little girls
You dreamt of being in my world
Don't forget it, don't forget it
Respect that, bow down bitches (Crown!)
I took some time to live my life
But don't think I'm just his little wife
Don't get it twisted, get it twisted
This my shit, bow down bitches

An excellent point, Bey.  When we were little girls, we aspired to be as beautiful as the woman who sang Crazy in Love, Baby Boy and Deja Vu, videos that were always in heavy rotation on Much Music. She was as pretty as Britney or JLo, but with an actual voice. Apart from Gwen Stefani, the only pop singer who seemed like an actual talent and not a marketing gimmick. Bow down, indeed.

Flawless quotes Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie:

We teach girls to shrink themselves
To make themselves smaller
We say to girls,
"You can have ambition
But not too much
You should aim to be successful
But not too successful
Otherwise you will threaten the man."
Because I am female
I am expected to aspire to marriage
I am expected to make my life choices
Always keeping in mind that
Marriage is the most important
Now marriage can be a source of
Joy and love and mutual support
But why do we teach girls to aspire to marriage
And we don't teach boys the same?
We raise girls to see each other as competitors
Not for jobs or for accomplishments
Which I think can be a good thing
But for the attention of men
We teach girls that they cannot be sexual beings
In the way that boys are
Feminist: the person who believes in the social
Political, and economic equality of the sexes

I agree with all of that, and good for Bey for putting it out there. Then she sings:

You wake up, flawless
Post up, flawless
Ridin' round in it, flawless
Flossin' on that, flawless
This diamond, flawless
My diamond, flawless
This rock, flawless
My rock, flawless
I woke up like this
I woke up like this
We flawless, ladies tell 'em
I woke up like this
I woke up like this
We flawless, ladies tell 'em
Say I look so good tonight
God damn, God damn
Say I look so good tonight
God damn, God damn, God damn

How did a song about female empowerment become a song about beauty? And why is this woman considered any kind of beacon for critical thinking? The biggest barrier to gender equality is the still persistent belief that a woman's worth is equated with her physical appearance - moreover, that a woman will never have an opportunity to prove her worth unless she is physically attractive.

And all that talk about how we make women compete against each other for men? How we should raise girls to compete for jobs and accomplishments? Could we have got another verse about that, Beyoncé?

Momma taught me good home training
My Daddy taught me how to love my haters
My sister told me I should speak my mind
My man made me feel so God damn fine, I'm flawless!

Physical beauty is the most important thing, repeated like an incantation against evil: Flawless, damn I look good tonight.

It's a bit out of balance, is what I'm saying, especially for a song that's meant to be at the vanguard of a social movement. To which you will respond: You're reading too much into it! It's just one song! To which I say:

(1) If you have a spoken passage by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, you're asking people to read into it. You can't claim to have something important to say, and then ask that no one listen to closely to it.

(2) It's not just one song.

You will never see Beyonce looking less than a 10, even in the video for "Pretty Hurts," the ugly, "no makeup" Beyonce is a knockout in a way that deflates the song somewhat. I'm not saying its a bad song, and can't hold it against her that she's beautiful. Though if this was the video, she would at least be putting her money where her mouth is, and that is something which Bey has for a decade, been categorically unwilling to do.

Recall one of Adichie's (and feminism)'s biggest grievances with patriarchy:

"We teach girls that they cannot be sexual beings in the way that boys are." This culture encourages women to fantasize about being what men want, rather than having an inner world of their own. It is acceptable to express your sexuality as long as it falls into the narrowly defined category of "attractive" and "not threatening".

And my oh my, how Beyonce's sexuality looks like a male record exec's wet dream.

Remember the video for Baby Boy, where Bey is greased up and dancing on a beach, while Sean Paul (business casual) sings on a bed of naked women?

Remember how that song was supposed to be about a sexy man?

Baby boy you stay on my mind
Fulfill my fantasies
I think about you all the time
I see you in my dreams

This woman's fantasy looks suspiciously like something a straight male record exec would dream up,

Like Where's Waldo for dirty old men

Deja Vu, same thing: She sings "Your sexiness is so appealing I can't let it go," but Beyonce is the only one working her ass off while Jay Z just hangs out like, "Yeah, I tapped that." (Full credit where credit is due, though, she was a way better dancer than Britney or Justin and I don't know why this didn't get more attention at the time)

All their collaborations in a nutshell.

More than ten years later, the videos for Partition and Drunk in Love - both meant to be about desire with the former explicitly setting itself up as a woman's fantasy - is the same old thing. Beyonce looks fabulous, works her ass off, and Jay sits around like Jabba the Hutt (at least in Drunk In Love she kind of looks likes she's having a good time). That's not equality. And it says something about the insidious power of patriarchy when women are taught to fantasize from a man's POV.

If Beyoncé's videos do represent a straight woman's desire, that desire is: "I want to be so beautiful that a famous man wants to fuck me." This is the exact opposite of empowering. It's downright regressive, a slap in the face to all those once-little girls that Beyonce compels to bow down before her, for the supposed gifts she gave to their self esteem.

When "Anacanda" came out, Nicki Minaj made this argument, to V magazine:

If a man did the same video with sexy women in it, no one would care. You’re talking about newspeople who don’t even know anything about hip-hop culture. It’s so disrespectful for them to even comment on something they have no idea about. They don’t say anything when they’re watching the Victoria’s Secret show and seeing boobs and thongs all day. Why? Shame on them. Shame on them for commenting on “Anaconda” and not commenting on the rest of the oversexualized business we’re a part of. 

 A male music video for Anaconda would feature Drake in a thong dancing with a bunch of nearly nude men, and, sorry Nicki, but people would lose their shit. Which is why we'll never see Jay Z dancing scantily clad on a beach while his wife sings about his sex appeal.

Because that would be threatening. That would actually spit in the face of gender inequality, and Beyoncé is not prepared to do that. If she did, the video for Run the World Girls would look like this*:

Yes, that's Madonna. And yes, Beyoncé's gender politics are musty and out of date compared to an act from twenty years ago.

You can't be universally beloved and a revolutionary. Really taking a stand means kissing half your fans goodbye in the hopes that twenty years from now you'll be remembered as a visionary (or, in the case of the lady above, be labelled a slut until you hit fifty and are rechristened "Slutty Granny" - because that's how much people hate women who actually challenge gender roles), and Beyoncé clearly is not ready to make that sacrifice.

Which brings me back to the first lines of "Flawless":

I know when you were little girls
You dreamt of being in my world
Don't forget it, don't forget it
Respect that, bow down bitches

When I was 13 I didn't realize how lopsided the depictions of women in the media were. It never struck me as strange that Naughty Girl and Baby Boy both starred an objectified woman and a fully clothed man. But I did feel small, and ugly, like I didn't deserve to have a voice until I was clear skinned and sexy as the women on TV, because in this culture beauty is still the qualifying step to personhood. Those without it need not apply. So imagine my disgust that a childhood has actually been playing for the other side all along, propagating and profit from the same inequality that causes young girls self esteem to plummet at adolescence, then asks me to bow down and be grateful for it. 

She's part of the problem. And the fans that see in her a beacon of hope: a shining example of how they too can have it all if they Just. Try. Harder, are kidding themselves.

On the upside, though, it's never too late to see why Madonna got excommunicated: 

*And the song would be called "Run the World (Women)" and would not have been written by a group of men.

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Ali Listens: Against Me!

"I want you to want me"

That's not a line that appears on Against Me!'s album Transgender Dysphoria Blues, but it might as well be on every record, more honest than a PARENTAL ADVISORY sticker, and practically stamped on the forehead of every person on the face of the earth. It's a universal feeling, and people do crazy things to satisfy that need.

I have a friend who feels compelled to buy a new outfit in advance of every public appearance. To that no one will notice what she's wearing, is to learn the meaning of "stink-eye". But there it is. Unless you're Beyoncé, no one cares (And if you are Beyoncé, thank you for visiting my blog).

Great music can force us to reckon with the emotions and hardships of those whose reality is radically, but not completely, different from our own. Transgender Dysphoria Blues is one of those miracles that puts you in the shoes of a person you mightn't think you had anything in common with at all, by using these universal experiences to put us in the shoes of a Trans Woman (specifically frontwoman Laura Jane Grace, who came out in 2012)


If "I want  you to want me" is the premise of life as we know it, the refrain to True Trans Soul Rebel is its natural nexus: "Who's gonna take you home tonight?"

Against Me! taps into the great fear of modern times: that you are not just unloved, but unwantable. That the things you do to distinguish yourself will never be noticed, only the ways you fall short: "You want them to notice the ragged ends of your summer dress ...they just see a faggot", and in so doing performs two miracles:

1) Helps you see eye to eye with an outsider
2) Heals that outside status. Misery loves company. Reality loves sanctification. And that's what great music is, it turns something mundane or painful into something sacred and transcended.

This my longwinded way of recommending "True Trans Soul Rebel" and "Talking Transgender Dysphoria Blues to whoever wants to listen:

Okay, if you need it poppy, here they are performing with Miley Cyrus,

 

Overlooked Gem: Here With Me

The Killers are the last Great American Rock Band. Or they were. There are no Great American Rock Bands anymore. There are bands making great rock music, but they lack the cultural cachet that for decades defined the term "Rock Star". The Killers have been the last band to enjoy this success. They were enjoying Rock's last gasp around the same time The Kings of Leon rocketed to fame, but The Kings didn't have quite the staying power, while the Killers had three mega successful albums, enough to be among the defining voices of the decade when I came of age.

And then, nothing.

Their fourth album, "Battle Born" was, by my estimation, their best, with ready made singles and eye popping videos that nonetheless failed to capture the popular imagination in the way they deserved. Was it just the decline of Rock? The Killers were pretty pop to begin with.

For whatever reason, this beautiful song, with its beautiful video directed by Tim Burton, failed to gain any traction - it didn't even make it onto their greatest hits compilation, which is a sin, because its a gorgeous song, and the video is Burton's best work in a decade. For it to have less than a tenth of the views that Katy Perry regularly merits is a sin. Watch and listen, you're welcome:

Ali LIstens: Back to the Future



When I was younger, a hundred self important VH1 specials told me that music represented our culture in ways that no other artistic medium could. They lied.

Culture has changed a lot in my lifetime. Music has not. As I write the most popular song in the country is "Uptown Funk", a lovely little ditty cobbled together from thirty year old classics like "Jungle Love" and "Give it to me Baby" (Say Whaaaaat?), like the wet dream of an A&R guy from 1985: "Like Prince, but safer." The last few years also gave us "All About That Base", "Blurred Lines" and "Get Lucky", and a bunch more Bruno Mars to help us live in the past.

Anyone with a passing knowledge of pop history or mass culture should know something's askew right now. Pop music as we know it has a pretty short history. It's new enough that some of our grandparents remember its infancy, from Fred Astaire to Elvis Presley to the Beatles and Beyond. Through the decades pop has had two key tenets: It's youth oriented, and its all about novelty.

Those rules apply to almost all mass-consumed products in the 20th century. Novelty is the reason the iPad 2 was offered in different colours, with little else to distinguish it from the previous model. Novelty is the cornerstone of consumerism. And young people are almost always on the receiving end of the these gimmicks, because they have disposable income and no better way to spend their time.

This is the way its supposed to be, the way it has been for most of my life, and my parents' too. Young people feel like they own pop culture, like their parents are squares and their tunes are the music of revolution. Then you hit your mid twenties and realize Barbra Streisand can sing like a motherfucker and maybe mom had okay taste after all.

The wheel goes round and round: Elvis scandalized parents with his fabulous hips, the Beatles made them uncomfortable with their long hair, Zeppelin and the Stones scared them to death with sex, drugs and Satanism. Madonna was a hussy, Rappers were cop killers and the wheels on the bus went round and round. "Parents just don't understand" has been the unwritten rule of popular music for ages.

And yet...

When was the last time anything was truly shocking? The Wrecking Ball video? Anaconda? They're all pretty tame compared to what Prince and Madonna were doing decades ago (okay, fine I'll link to a sexy video if you promise to come right back) , to say nothing of the truly revolutionary spirit of acts like Neil Young or Public Enemy.

Kids these days may loathe the idea of "old" singers staying too long in the spotlight, but they're hypocritical in a way their parents were not:

Elvis sounded nothing like Fred Astaire.
Zeppelin sounded nothing like Frank Sinatra
N.W.A sounded nothing like Marvin Gaye

But

Lady Gaga looks and sounds an awful lot like Madonna, but tamer
Bruno Mars sounds a lot like Prince / Michael / Morris / Rick / insert-funk-legend-here, but more accessible.
Pharell Williams is paying seven million dollars because "Blurred Lines" - the song of the summer of 2013 - sounds virtually indistinguishable from Marvin Gaye's "Got to Give it Up"

But the hate lobbed in the direction of legacy acts (one legacy act in particular) is shockingly wrong footed. Madonna is told to leave the playground she built, because of her age, but to make room for who? Lady Gaga, Beyoncé, Miley...all acts that owe her a huge debt and have no interest in building on her legacy, merely reducing it to its simplest moving parts (Sex! Shock! Girlpower!). I'm a millennial with a middle-aged soul, so forgive me for saying anyone who was shocked by Miley's twerking, three decades after Prince sang that he wants to "fuck the taste out of your mouth"  is damn soft.

But its not just music where we see this trend, which points to something much bigger. The rush to reappropriate old properties--from comic books, to movies to television and back again--is running rampant through this culture. Plenty of people complain about how Hollywood isn't offering anything new, but the truth is, these movies, these shows, this music, all of it gets made because the masses are buying them.

You'll hear theorists say that "People like what's familiar". Since when? Wasn't novelty the order of the day for the last five decades? The short answer is to that question is "yes". The long answer involves explaining the rise and fall of the Ford Motor company in the early 20th century, and since you don't really care about that stuff, you just have to trust me.

Speaking of films, what's the first hint that a movie is set in a particular decade? The clothing.
Now can you name any two years separated by two decades whose clothing was so utterly indistinguishable as 2015 and 1995? Bet you a nickel that you can't. 1960s fashion looks nothing like the 1940s or the 1980s. The 1950s are similarly indistinguishable from the 1970s, as the 70's are from the 90's, but that's when it stops. Chunky heels may be out, but I guarantee someone looking through Vogue twenty years from now wouldn't be able to guess for certain what decade we're in.  What has changed, fashion wise, are all throwbacks. "That's so Mad Men" you might say about a new dress, or "So eighties!"

This is a culture curiously divorced from our own moment in time, like none has been in recent memory.

Why?

Because we are afraid.

I may have lied at the top of this article. I said that music didn't reflect culture anymore, what I meant was that music never reflects culture, but cultural fixations. Why are we so obsessed with the past?

Because the present is a goddamn mystery. I'm not talking about dirty politics or poverty or racial divides or environmental destruction. You can find great, popular songs about those things from our parents' era a lot easier than you can from Beyoncé or her contemporaries.

I'm talking about how the internet, and all the technology that lives off it has completely changed the world so quickly we haven't quite adapted to it yet. Social media drives people farther apart, while online pornography is there at the click of a button (fine, here's another sexy video to reward the focus it took to read this far). Everything you ever wanted to see, and some things that you don't but will click on anyway are barking at you from the sidelines of every page you go to. Meanwhile, the things we were taught to hold dear to - friendships, a sense of belonging, even our own identity, has been untethered from reality. These tenets of humanity are strangely intangible in the age of the internet, floating in a digital realm we haven't got a grip on.

We need a sense of control, of belonging, of identity, which this new world order so insidiously inhibits. As a culture, we've gone back into the womb, like a groundhog who saw its own shadow and settled in for very long winter.

"What about the millenials?" you may ask. Most of the kids who love Uptown Funk and Born This Way are too young to be nostalgic for a time before the internet. How does this apply to them?

I'll tell you. It's a simple answer that bodes well for the future of humanity: because those are great songs. Specifically - "Jungle Love" and "Express Yourself" are great songs. And their enduring popularity shows that even as the world around us has exploded, we haven't lost that most basic human emotion that connects us to a great beat.

Ali Listens: The Best Song of 2014

So, its a little late for an entry like this, being as we are now well into 2015. However, this just needs to be said. The best song of 2014 was:

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Strand of Oaks, Goshen '97!!!!!

"What?" you may say. "Who?" "Which one's the title and which one's the artist?"
Settle down dear, all will become clear in due course.

First of all, here it is:

 

 

Do you hear the frustration? The fear? The hope? The Rock 'n' Roll?

I've been contemplating for a while what the difference is between Pop and Rock music, beyond the definitional, namely that "Pop" music is what popular and (new) Rock hasn't been popular for a very long time. I might just devote an entire post to how today's audience is determined to crawl back into the womb of "classic" sounds, but that's for another time.

The point is, Rock music isn't about what's popular. Its about what's true, or at least it should be. Rock history is littered with male power fantasy garbage (here's to you, Motley Crue), but at heart those were pop songs that were just pretending.

Real Rock'n'Roll is mired in the ugly stuff. It has its roots in pagan rituals on slave plantations. Misery is in its DNA. That's not to say that all Rock songs ought to be sad. Surely not. But they all must appreciate sadness. Happiness means nothing without the struggle from whence it is born. A great rock song doesn't have to be depressing, but it has to have the trace of a struggle in it.

Goshen '97 is the sound of a struggle. It gives no indication of where that struggle will take our protagonist - will he be victorious or will it all have been in vain? The song doesn't arrive at any destination, and it pre-empts the journey.

This song is about the moment you realize that the journey is necessary, that its possible, and that it actually started without you realizing it, while you were spinning your wheels in no particular direction.

At least that's what it means to me. Music is pretty subjective, and you can bet a song with the line "I was lonely, but I was having fun" hits all the trigger points for the person who wrote this about the emotional ravagement brought on by a Springsteen song.  At its heart, though that line represents that quintessential Rock'n'Roll pairing of regret and the joy of being alive. And speaking of joy:

"Then I found my Dad's old tape machine, that's when the magic began." I love musicians who love music. Almost as much as I love musicians who love life.  But flash forward another minute: "Before I was fat, drunk and mean, everything still lied ahead."

I would nominate that for single best line of songwriting of the year. Yes, better than "He toss my salad like his name Romaine." Better luck next year, Nicki. It's unexpected and it cuts like a knife. Likely the only time you've heard those words in life is when you're saying them to yourself, who has the courage to admit something like that out loud?

This isn't a song about facing the world, or even a song about the future. It's about the self. The conflict, the disappointment, the happy memories and the daunting next step.

Because, any contemplation of the future is ultimately a valuation of ourselves. The past - that's all about other people, circumstances that may or may not have been under our control. The present, likewise is cluttered with time and place.

But the future is all us. It's a question of Can? Will? Should?, and the answer always depends on how we feel about ourselves.

This singer is caught up with the past, disgusted with the present and contemplating the future based on these valuations. "I don't want to start all over again," he says. Well, that's not even an option, is it?

We don't ever go back, we just change direction. And for perfectly capturing the moment just preceding this realization, Strand of Oaks gets the humble honour of my top pick for best song of 2104.

The Power of Love: or, How I Learned to stop worrying and listen to Springsteen

 

 

My parents owned Born in the USA when I was a kid, but it was on Vinyl so I never heard it played. Our turntable was long since broken by the time I was born. When the music of Bruce Springsteen filled our halls, but it was the sound of Born to Run, Tunnel of Love and the Essential on compact disc (Born to Run had the distinction of being owned on both formats, Darkness, sadly, only vinyl).

Since then, I've been building my Springsteen library, and it wasn't until today that I heard the eighth track on Springsteen's most popular record for the first time.

And lo, came the tears from a dormant part of my brain that I had nearly forgotten existed. A vault of adolescent loneliness and abandonment was breached by a thirty year old song. Such is the power of Springsteen.

Growing up, I had three best friends: The first, was my neighbour, who didn't go to the same school as I did, didn't really have any of the same interests as I did, and whose friendship was based almost entirely on geography. The second, was my best friend from school -- Laura -- who was funny and energetic and strange in all the ways that I was. The third, and most important was my cousin, Victoria. She had a single mother, and no idea who her father was. It seems like she spent other week at my Grandma's house around the block, and consequently we were nearly sisters. There were sleepovers almost every weekend during the school year, and in summers by the lake we took joint responsibility for looking after our unruly younger boy cousins. Thick as thieves.

In high school things changed, and until yesterday I understood these changes solely in terms of how they made me feel about my friends. Best Friend #1 and I drifted apart, starting a little before high school. We never had much in common, so it wasn't really surprising, and I didn't give it much thought.

Friend #2 went to the same high school as I did, but decided early on that I was not cool enough to be her friend, which is baffling still because she was not cool. She was never cool. Our joint un-coolness was what drew us together in elementary school. But, when high school began and it was apparent that I did not represent valuable social real estate she moved on. I remember with striking clarity the day I found myself sitting alone in the cafeteria. It was the first day of a new semester, and  the handful of friends I usually sat with now had a different lunch than I. Laura approached and I, breathing a sigh of relief, waved to her. I wouldn't have to sit alone after all, thank goodness. She saw me, then pretended she didn't. I was hurt, angry and I never tried to engage her socially after that, except perhaps a little bit some mornings, when my mom drove her to school! I had all kinds of opinions about her after that.

Friend #3 --the best friend, the family, the close-in-age sister I never had, topped them all for cruelty. She'd had a difficult life, in case you didn't pick up on that in her introduction as the bastard child who spent every other week at her grandmothers. Her mother was sick a lot, and depressed. Her family moved out of the city when she was just about to hit adolescence, finding herself in a brand spanking new subdivision where every house looks alike and she had to make new friends. When she did find out who her biological father was, it was a major disappointment. Any one of those factors would be enough to make a teen act out. Together, they were an H-bomb on her self esteem, and she acted out in ways we never would have thought possible - Stealing, lying, running away - the most egregious act of betrayal was falsely accusing her loving step-father of beating her, and taking that accusation to the authorities.

I can trace the trajectory of my feelings for her, like lines on a map: from concern, to anger, to pity, to relief, and finally to forgiveness (this is over a ten year period - and I'm happy to report that all's well that ends well and I'm going to be her maid of honour next year). I can do that for friends #1 and 2 also.

But until yesterday I never gave a thought to how all of this made me feel about myself. Which is where Springsteen comes in. Bobby Jean tells the story of a boy learning his best and only friend has left town without saying goodbye. "I wish I could have called. I wish I could have talked to you, not to change your mind, just to say good bye, Bobby Jean." Listening to it was like meeting my younger self, for the first time.

I spent a lot of time thinking about other people - how they were selfish, or stupid, or whatever - but I never had the perspective to see myself for what they had made me - alone. As far as I could tell, I was still the same person. It was them who had changed - who had sold out or betrayed me, who were selfish or superficial, but I never appreciated just what it did to me, how important it was to have one close friend, how empty we become when they're gone, and we're listening to the radio alone.

Something about this song took me back - A place, a time, a fully realized moment that I thought was lost to me, but got the chance to revisit. I listened to Bruce Springsteen and met myself.

This is why love music. This is why I pay money for music, and rant about how the industry has taken over the art. This is why I'm a true believer. If you're not, I feel sorry for you.

Music / Industry

Taylor Swift makes it in under the wire with 1989, and 2014 finally has one (1) album go platinum. The music industry isn't dead yet, but spectator's say it's breathing is pretty haggard. I disagree. The music industry is fine. It's the music that died. The internet may have ended the golden age of record buying, but the funny thing about money is that it throws its weight around the most when there is less of it to be had.

Now, every era has its talent and its hacks. Nostalgia has a way of buffing out the shitty stuff and convincing our parents that they really were the hippest generation, when in fact the number one song of 1967 was "Sugar, Honey Honey" by the Archies.

Still, you'd have to be a fool to pretend 1989 is in even the same ballpark as Sergeant Pepper, or The Wall, or even Rumours. There is no version of 2014 where a song like Neil Young's "Ohio" becomes a top forty hit (as it did in 1970), let alone captures the zeitgeist enough to change popular opinion about a major historical event. No matter the quality of popular music today, it is no longer important.

Money, on the other hand is always important. It has a way of exacting its influence no matter what. So when sales dry up, that's when the Industry roars to life and makes its interests clear. People aren't buying music anymore, so the Industry stopped selling it.

They're selling artists - no, not artists, personalities- to plug into the more lucrative game of product placement. The most obvious example is Beats, which has sponsored almost every major music video in recent years - at least every one with any kind of budget. You're supposed to look at Nicki Minaj and think: "If I own these speakers, I'm almost like a famous person." For the record, listening to mp3s with expensive headphones, is like buying an HD 70" flat screen so you can watch the Blair Witch Project in all its grainy glory.

Once again, commerce beat common sense. Dr. Dre is now a bazillionaire and Rock and Roll is dead.

I'm not here to rant about artists cashing a cheque. I'm sure Katy Perry works harder than anyone I know personally. I'm here to remind you that the Industry is a force of nature that even when incomes shrink - especially  when incomes shrink - cuts the fat and protects itself.

Beyonce got paid a reported $50,000,000 for her Pepsi ad (which, while I'm on it, "Embrace the past but live for now"- really? All that money and they couldn't come up with a better line?) So someone's making money.

And people are still making real music, but its not getting promoted, because the Industry knows no one will buy it. So they attach music to things that people do buy, and take a percentage.  Art and commerce are not making the sweet sweet love they used to, and we the public are getting the shaft.

There is great music out there: Phosphorescent's "Song For Zula" is one of the most beautiful songs I've ever heard. Do yourself a favour and click "Play" so you can listen as you read:

 

But no matter how great a song is, it's never going to hit the mainstream unless it can be used as an advertising jingle. How else can it recoup the cost of promotion?

Listening to Janelle Monae's Metropolis Suites is like meeting the lovechild of Peter Gabriel and Star Wars - after that lovechild was abandoned by the side of the road then nursed back to health by Andre 3000.* It's amazing. But its no coincidence that the closest that album got to a hit single was the song used in a Chevy ad.

So what happens when artists, who might be legitimately great, have to cow toe to their sponsors? What happens to society when our culture is dominated by advertising, an art form explicitly dedicated to promoting mindless consumption over independent thought? The revolutionary spirit of Rock and Roll has been squished under the rock of commerce, and if that doesn't scare you, let me answer the above question for you:

Twenty five years ago, Madonna - peace and blessings be upon her - released the video for Like a Prayer:

 

 The video involved burning crosses, controversy, and the end of her endorsement deal with Pepsi. It is also one of the great artistic coups in the history of pop music. Corporate sponsors would be weary of her edginess from then on out, but losing endorsement deals didn't matter, because she was selling millions of records. Back then it paid to shake up the system.

Would Madonna make the same decision in a world where she couldn't count on music sales to pad her fortune? We don't need a parallel universe to answer that question. All we need to do is look at Beyonce. Pepsi's latest fly-girl is always polite, always perfect looking, and never controversial. It no longer pays to be a revolutionary, but that doesn't mean that we as a culture don't still need them.

My parents had Neil Young, Bruce Springsteen, and, yes, Madonna. Are millennials capable of staring down a social problem and turning it into a hit song like their parents were? The Industry's not going to take a chance on finding out. Where's the top forty hit about Trayvon Martin?

I don't want to live in a world where the Like a Prayer video gets pulled in favour of this inane Pepsi ad, but that seems to be the direction we're heading in.

Alas, you get what you pay for.

*And seriously guys, get hip to the Archandroid already!

The trouble with #YOLO

Whether you know it or not, you've been listening the most depressing party jams in history. I was born in 1989. I'm old enough to remember when 90210 was edgy and forbidden, and yet I can still call myself one of the YOLO generation, for which Miley Cyrus has been twerking nine to five.

For anyone not in the know, Grady Smith of Entertainment Weekly wrote this excellent piece about how agressively in-the-moment today's pop music is:

"These days, pop stars don’t just sing about throwing a great party. They sing about throwing a great party because it’s their time to do so. There’s a weirdly reverent sense of duty wrapped up in the whole affair — as if stars must pay homage to the #YOLO (You Only Live Once) mentality that’s so often cited by young people in moments of indulgence or reckless adventure. This is our moment to claim, say pop stars. This is our moment to be crazy. We’re entitled to it because we’re young. "

The think about #YOLO, or "you only live once" to the older set, is that it ought to be read in the opposite direction--if you only live once, it follows that we should all be extra careful about our decision making, eat healthy and plan for the future, because  you have to live with your decisions for a very long time.

So what happened? How is an entire generation simultaneously missing the point? I think we're scared. To think that "You only live once" means "do whatever you want," you have to have no hope for the future.  Our formative years were clouded by the horror of September 11th, the looming threat of "An Unconvenient Truth" all fed by the twenty four hour news cycle and the ever proliferating internet.

 Of course, our parents had The Bomb to worry about. Maybe the hedonistic pop stars of today are the natural successors to the hippies. I hope not...for two reasons. (1) The 60s counterculture were too stoned to accomplish much--at best they ended up conforming to the man, at worst they overdosed. And (2) \the music was better.

And by "better" I don't necessarily mean "classic" (although, yeah, clearly), I mean hopeful: "We Can Work it Out", "All you need is love", dig the words to revolution:

"Don't you know its gonna be all right?"

Somehow in the last fifty years, that notion has slipped away. Now, "let's make the most of the night like we're gonna die young"

From Ke$ha to Miley and on, these are the most depressing party songs in history.

Ali Listens: Unorthodox Jukebox

 

I love this album. I appreciated “The Lion The Beast theBeat” and “Boys & Girls”. I have mad respect for “The Archandroid.” But I love Unorthodox Jukebox. Like, I can picture myself ten years from now unearthing this CD, putting it in the player (we’ll still have those in ten years, right?) and being transported right back to this moment in time, with total recall of what it felt like to be twenty three and really messed up.

 

It reminds me of “Little Red Corvette” by Prince. You know the song that starts out sexy, gets dancey, then with one line—“You’re gonna run your body right into the ground!”—injects a hint of melancholy that sticks with us all through the epic play-out.“Unorthodox Jukebox” is a combination of songs that celebrate a good time, and songs that regret what those good times have cost you.  It may take Mars & Co. a whole album to do what Prince accomplished in one track, but still some major credit is due. This interpretation may be a result of my present emotional state—Certainly the years I spent idly doing fuck-all seem less fun now that I’m an (almost) twenty-four year old temp who dearly wishes she never stopped practicing the violin.

Anyway, to business...

1.  Young Girls

 

 

The first ten seconds sound like sunrise after a sleepless night. It conjures up the bleary, “oh my god is it really that time?” feeling. Or maybe it's the "sun-is-rising-and-I-have-no-idea-where-I-am" syndrome, which I personally have never experienced, but for whatever reason I am now picturing Mars waking up on a rooftop like that poor bastard in The Hangover .

The producers hit a bull’s-eye on those opening ten seconds,‘cos sure enough when the lyrics start, our hero is at the start of a new day and the end of a long night:

“I spent all my money/ bought a big ole fancy car / for these bright eyed honeys/ Oh yeah you know who you are / Keep me up ‘til the sun is high / ‘til the birds start calling my name / I’m addicted and I don’t know why / Guess I’ve always been this way / All these roads steer me wrong / But I still drive them all night long.”

He can’t control himself. There’s a sense that in a few years he’ll regret all this, but for now he’s at a loss for what to do instead.  There are certain trappings of success that (I’m guessing) it's hard to say no to. After working his whole life to get to this point, this character has trained himself that this is what he wants, so it’s hard to say no to all the sex, drugs, and parties that are supposedly the reward for all that hard work.

There’s a palpable sadness and weariness in every note of this song. It sounds like a Ronettes classic, slowed down for maximum introspection. All four writers deserve gold stars, while Mars’ voice, with its unbearably adorable little-boy-lost quality to it, sells this shit for maximum emotional devastation.  

 

*If I may veer into the personal one more time, my early life was dominated by endless work that stifled my desire to do anything I didn’t absolutely have to do. Whenever I wasn’t at school or work, I wanted nothing more than to turn up the music and just do nothing. For ten whole years. And while other people went to dances and got boyfriends or jobs or hilarious anecdotes to relate at a later time, I got an uninterrupted evening to myself, which I stupidly believed was all I ever wanted out of life.

There was always a sense that I was missing out on something, but to get it would mean sacrificing the thing that I lived for—a place away from feeling insecure about all the things I was doing wrong, or would do wrong if I tried them. It’s weird, and weirdly comforting to think that someone so far at the other end of the spectrum would grapple with the same feelings—in short, the “what I wanted might not be the best thing for me, but I don’t know how to want anything else,” dilemma.

I would also like to add, that should Bruno Mars die young, we all know this will be released as a single and designated the mass-mourning song. Every artist should have one in their catalogue just in case.

 

2. Locked out of Heaven

 

This song has already been (rightly) praised to death. The four-on-the-floor chorus, the beat-box that actually sounds like a musical instrument and not a sound effect, the lyrics...it’s all perfection. But what takes it over the top is how it all builds to that fabulous musical orgasm at the 2:42 mark, followed by the laid back (post-coital?) repeat of the chorus (3:10), which, for whatever reason, makes me think of Fred and Ginger dancing off the screen in one of their classic movies.

There are but a few perfect moments in cinema history, and Fred and Ginger own at least five of them.

 

3. Gorilla

 

And now it’s time to check in with those Young Wild Girls and just what they’re doing to our poor, set-upon young lover  who has decided that he would rather be Prince than Sting, thank-you-very-much. This is the one point on the album where Mars’ adorable (I swear I don’t mean to be condescending when I use that word) vocals fail him. He can’t quite sell the “body full of liquor with a cocaine ticker” line, even though we all know he’s been arrested for cocaine possession and some youtube commenter informs me he pissed on a stranger who told him he was too drunk (I didn’t look into it because knowing shit like that about a complete stranger never did anybody any good). But I digress. The production is smooth and decadent so that Gorilla sounds like a great song, even though the image of primates humping is, alas, not as arousing as Bruno Mars seems to think it is.

This song also has a dorky wish-fulfillment vibe, with its, “30 feet tall” and “I bet you never ever felt so good,” lines. It’s embarrassing when a man so obviously wants to be assured that he’s THE BEST EVER, but this song is already so weird it’s kind of endearing.  And if Mars’ vocals don’t quite live up to the lyrics he can take solace in the fact that his “OOoohs”  and “Yeah!”s  in the last  minute and a half are perfection. He sounds more dangerous and alluring than Prince or Michael Jackson...though admittedly, the bar for that one was only set about waist high.

 

4. Treasure

 

First off, I love that the official video isn't available in HD, and defaults to 360p. That's comittment.

 

This song sounds like it was assembled from spare parts of Prince's Shallow as it is on its own, “Treasure” is a necessary palette cleanser between “Gorilla” and “Moonshine”.  The “Baby Squirrel” line is a nice wink at the audience, though it makes me feel like there’s a joke I’m not in on, that may be kind of sexist. But whatever. This one’s forgettable.

ONE MORE THING: What is Bruno Mars’s obsession with insecure women? The heroine of “Just the Way You Are” was some a nervous wreck who couldn’t take a compliment and hated her own laugh. This chick “don’t know it but [she’s] fine so fine.” Is this guy seriously that attracted to insecurity or is he just catering to a hell of a lucrative demographic?

 

5. Moonshine

 

Okay, back to the good stuff. How can a song actually sound drugged out? The hazy paranoia of the first twenty seconds of “Moonshine” conjure up the feeling of someone in desperate need of a fix. Twenty seconds! “Evocative” is the word you’re searching for, ladies and gentlemen.

The beat proper doesn’t come in until after our hero has connected with his quarry and they drive off into the night. I don’t know if this is sex as a metaphor for drugs, or drugs as a metaphor for sex. It might be an amalgam of all that hedonistic swill, but boy does it sound great. Evocative.

It might be an even darker track than “Gorilla”, but in this case Mars’ high voice serves him better. He doesn’t have to sound aggressive this time, just equal parts lecherous and lost.

 

6. When I Was Your Man

 

Oh look, another #1 hit. I like to think that means I don’t have to write anything about this one. It’s a song so direct that it’s almost pandering: “I should have bought you flowers / And held your hand / Should have gave you all my hours / When I had the chance.” Congratulations Bruno Mars, you just sang what every scorned woman in the history of Planet Earth has ever wanted to hear, and I hope you enjoy the financial windfall it brings your way. 

This single actually sounds better in the context of the whole album. “Moonshine” answers the question of just what he did wrong when he was her man, and it’s dangerous enough to balance out this tracks gooey sincerity.

 

7. Natalie

 

Let me begin by saying that this song is everything Madonna’s “Gang Bang” wishes it could be. The antithesis to “Grenade,” it’s nasty and cruel but oddly fun to sing along with.

Misogynistic is a strong word, and I’ll entertain the debate over whether this song deserves to be painted with that brush. After all, he’s “digging a ditch for that gold digging bitch.” This allmusic review has very strong feelings about that one. I prefer to hear thsi song as jokey melodrama, the antithesis to the equally over the top “Grenade”.

The biggest strike against Bruno Mars is that on (almost) every other song this guy’s ideal woman is weak and insecure. Ahem, “You walk around here like you wanna be someone else ...you don’t know it but you’re fine so fine”, “Her laugh she hates but I think it’s so sexy,” “They might say ‘hi’/ I might say ‘hey’ but you shouldn’t worry / about what they say.” It says something that the only assertive female in his repertoire is marked for death (working with Chris Brown in any capacity will not get you in with the feminists either).

Two things save this song: One, Natalie isn’t actually the only assertive female in his repertoire—we can’t forget the “Good strong woman” who dumped his ass for not taking her to enough parties. And two—Bruno Mars does not have the voice of a killer.

That’s one sentence  I never thought I’d have cause to type, but there you have it. I know next to nothing about Bruno the man, but the voice that couldn’t sell the line about a “cocaine ticker” sure as hell can’t make this revenge fantasy sound like anything to get too upset about. I have a feeling that when he catches her they’re’ll be less murder and more Gorilla sex. 

 

8. Show Me

Meh,

 

9.  Money Make Her Smile

 

Wow, is this post already 2,000 words? I really do love this album, guys. The best part of this song is its opening “All you get back / coming to the stage is a girl who’s new in town”—ah , the corruption of innocence. Beyond that, the song on its own is only so-so, with overreliance on electronic sound effects rather than real instruments. It sounds just as knocked-off as “Treasure” but even more shallow. But the inhuman chant of “Give ‘em what you got” and even the obnoxious electro sound effects build on the atmosphere of excess that the album has built up so well. The smooth elegance of a song like “Gorilla” is replaced by a manic, insane, obnoxious, electro swell. With its inhuman chant of “Give ‘em what you got! Got! Got!” this is the audio equivalent of the moment when all the excess and filth that was alluded to on previous tracks spills over into something ugly and alienating (Speaking of which,  this song was co-written by Chris Brown).  Which brings us to...

 

10. If I knew

 

Ouch. The last track is the realization of all the creeping doubts raised in “Young Girls.”  “I was a city (silly?) boy / Riding to dangers where I’d always run / A boy who had his fun/ But I wouldn’t have done / All the things that I have done / If I knew one day you’d come.”

This silly boy is damaged goods. The woman he loves can’t deal with his past and he wants a do-over. I can think of a dozen different reasons why this song is so affecting, but what it all comes down to is that everyone has something in their lives that they regret. That feeling creeps up on us in between the good times until one day it overwhelms them.

“I wish we were seventeen / So I could give you all the innocence / That you gave to me.”

He’s actually slut-shaming himself. That gender reversal alone would make this song interesting even if it wasn’t so emotionally devastating. And of course the last song feeds perfectly into the first if you’re player plays in a loop. It makes for a perfect circle, and a vicious cycle.

 ***

 

I’ve done a bit with my life. I survived a tough high school program, got a scholarship to Canada’s top university, graduated with honours and wrote about four novels. They’ll never be published but on optimistic days I like to think that practise will come in handy when I get my big idea. But at seventeen I felt like I was already old and played out, so I stopped trying at anything that wasn’t school. School was the only thing I was ever praised for as child, so I gave up on (or flat out rejected) any feelings that I was attractive or the idea that my own creativity could lead somewhere better. I dug myself into a deep miserable hole from which I’m only starting to escape, all the while (still) worrying that it’s too late, like I’ve missed something crucial you can only learn once.

There is nothing at all like my life on “Unorthodox Jukebox,” and that’s for the best. Reliving a great party will always be more fun than reliving a long study session. But the hangover is the same. “I wish I was seventeen so I could give you all the innocence that you gave to me”. I never ever looked at anything with even a grain of innocence, or optimism. Fatalism is my middle name and has been since I was a teenager. But how I dearly wish it wasn’t. That’s why I respond to this album so strongly, because in between sexy pop songs, it’s all about getting lost and wanting a do-over.