Another week, another set of scandalous people doing scandalous things in the name of simple, primal greed. But we won’t mention that…
This week, Pieces has been thinking. Again. We’re getting closer to the end of the first decade of the twenty-first century, and it’s at these kinds of avenues that sad people like me start thinking about what identifies the times we live in. In previous posts I’ve talked about certain musicians and artists who some might say have passed their creative peak (mostly in jest, sometimes with crushing sincerity). One of the things that troubles me about the century so far is that there are very few creative people who have managed to carve an identity as strong as even the worst offenders in my previous posts. And then the next step beyond that depressing thought is to look back and see how effortlessly people can construct names for movements or collectives that cropped up in every previous century. It’s pointless to be too optimistic about this – it’s very unlikely, for example, that a new century would have thrown up anything equivalent to the birth of Rock n Roll or the impressionists. But looking back on the last 9 years doesn’t exactly fill you with hope for the future: where are the seeds of the next big ‘happening’? have we just become a species content to be fed what comes up without hoping for something new? For whom art is no longer a force for change but a tool that follows outside events?
Obviously, every event and/or movement that ever changes things is usually only noticed in hindsight, unless it’s really explosive – people still disagree about which was the first real Rock n Roll record, but it’s pretty undeniable that the October Revolution (confusingly) took place on 7th November 1917. But even five years after Rock Around The Clock (definitely not the first Rock n Roll record, but certainly one of the first to sell squillions of copies) people were aware that something had happened that had changed the world, that had caused nearly every business on the planet to realise that there was a new billion-strong marketplace for them to pitch to, and pitch they did.
Now, nearly every major album review refers to the musician’s comments on the world of today, as if it’s assumed that artists have become commentators and journalists rather than visionaries. No reviewer really wants to hear imagination any more, just a ‘creative’ way of rephrasing things that have already happened. If this doesn’t happen, the record gets slaughtered for not being ‘relevant’. If it does, the record runs the risk of dating incredibly badly, or at best just not meaning anything anymore (even the greatest are not immune – just listen to Taxman by the Beatles. Only those who have more than a passing acquaintance with British politics of the 1960s will get anything out of those cute ‘ah ah, Mr Wilson’ backing vocals, even though they’re a crucial part of the song’s ‘meaning’).
Reaction is traditionally the spur for action in art, not its content. The best way to illustrate the difference is this: listen to Masters of War (Bob Dylan, not Pearl Jam), and sit in awe at the way the reaction to atrocities is used to create something vicious and powerful in its own right, that would eat at the soul of any perpetrator who heard it. Then listen to the new Green Day record – ‘silence is the enemy so gimme gimme revolution’. The reaction to…well, whatever it was, was obviously along the lines of ‘hey, this is really bad, let’s write a song about how it’s really bad’. So they did. And it’s a song about something really bad. Great.
Maybe I’m wrong, maybe our music has always just reflected the way we all feel, and that’s what people have always loved about it. But I can’t help but feel that something has been missed somewhere. I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor lets you know on no uncertain terms you’re listening to the story of one man’s (very contemporary version of a) crush on a girl. Listening to Diana Ross sing You Can’t Hurry Love makes you feel like you’re falling in love for the first time, even though it was sung 40 years ago. That doesn’t mean it’s better, but there’s definitely a difference. And don’t let Phil Collins tell you otherwise.
Thanks, kudos, love and magic to everyone who came along to Pieces’ gig on Saturday. It was a really great night and we raised tons of money for the church, so give yourselves a little round of applause before clicking below to load this week’s Piecesounds…
1. The Sugarhill Gang/West Street Mob – Sing A Simple Song
2. Gnarls Barkley – Who’s Gonna Save My Soul?
3. The Pop Group – We Are Time
4. Wildlife – Let’s Talk It Over
5. Kate Bush – Delius (Song Of Summer)
6. Brian Eno – Here Come The Warm Jets
7. The Monkees – Zilch
8. Pulp – This Is Hardcore
9. Isaac Hayes – When I Fall In Love
10. Chick Corea/Bobby McFerrin – Song For Amadeus (Mozart Sonata No. 2 in F Major)
11. Young Marble Giants – N.I.T.A.
12. Tower Of Power – Down To The Nightclub
13. LCD Soundsystem – Sound Of Silver
14. Joy Division – These Days
http://open.spotify.com/user/blownawish/playlist/0HM1YHI6QVFA1x1x0uOLmS
(if you haven’t got a Spotify account, then do something about it. Either get someone you know to invite you, or if none of your friends have an account you can email contactpieces@gmail.com and we’ll sort you out. We can’t have people going without music – that’d be like asking people to live without air. Or the colour green. It just wouldn’t be right.)
See you next week for further developments.
Pieces x
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