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When no one knew your name and you were pompous
by anna at 07:28 AM on August 30, 2003
The following was inspired by Linz's recent link to an Onion article. LOL.
My friend Andrea tell me she brought her son to see his first concert, Kiss opening for Aerosmith. I'm like, no way. Kiss can't possibly still exist. I distinctly remember hearing about their farewell tour a few years back.
Having Kiss in the world is akin to contracting genital warts. Once it's there, it's there to stay. It may go into remission but is sure to recur. And you have to laugh when these geezers sing, "I just want to rock n' roll all night and party every day." What days, the ones in Alaska in the dead of winter? Party with what, Ensure?
She also tells me that Kiss was way better than Aerosmith. This is hardly surprising. Though kitschy in the extreme, they were always consummate showmen with their silly makeup, costumes and fire-breathing stunts. To say nothing of Gene Simmons' mile-long tongue. Michael Jordan's got nothing on him. Ladies?
What they lack is a smidgen of talent or edge. Thus, even in its 70s heyday, it was social suicide to admit being a fan. Nonetheless, they moved product like nobody's business. So did Aerosmith but not in its early days. Its first two albums tanked. Only with Toys in the Attic did the attitude-laden boys from Boston achieve some degree of success, albeit with its label poised to drop them faster than ABC did Roseanne's ill-conceived talk show.
Kiss has made a killing over the years. It's a merchandising juggernaut and it's cultivated a loyal fan base known as Kiss Army. But these legions must be total geeks, like those who still flock to Star Wars movies. And that's what I'm getting at here: tame fluff sells while rough-hewn attitude does not.
It wasn't always this way. Frank Sinatra rose to fame with his pale blue eyes and mildly suggestive posturing amid the bland likes of Perry Como. Just as Elvis's pelvic grind shtick upstaged the stodgy Bill Haley and the Comets. (Things can change. Who could ever forget a leather jacket-clad Pat Boone sneering from the cover of his heavy metal foray No More Mr. Nice Guy?)
In the 60s the big attitude band was the Rolling Stones. Their chief competitor, the Beatles, made up for what it lacked in edge with savvy marketing and studio trickery. Although the Beatles' tunes were downright smarmy by comparison, they consistently bested the Stones in the marketplace.
The Sex Pistols epitomized sneering attitude but could barely play their instruments. Both their albums sold poorly. Same goes for the Velvet Underground. Mid-sixties audiences weren't prepared for brooding tunes about heroin addiction. But they ate up the Beach Boys' sunny, optimistic ditties. In the 80s, mopy dirges by the Cure and Depeche Mode collected dust while catchy songs by Duran Duran and Wham flew off shelves. People like shit.
And this continues to this day. Nobody up in his/her world wants to admit digging Avril Lavigne, Jewel, Train, 50 Cent or Linkin Park. (Don't even get me started about Eminem. That ashen poseur has all the edge of a deflated balloon.) But looking who's selling product and laughing all the way to the ATM.
I'm sure there are a slew of edgier, more talented acts out there toiling in obscurity. (Cradle of Filth? The White Stripes?) Should they ever hit the big-time, both their fans will turn on them like dogs gone rabid. Sell-out (interesting how that's spelled just like "sellout" as in crowd) accusations will fly. Hardcore music fans are the only ones who smile upon failure and frown upon success.
Here's an eye-opener. Kenny G? Meat Loaf?
There's an analogy in the film biz. Critics love what moviegoers shun. They pan flicks we flock to, which is why their dour pronouncements are largely irrelevant in terms of box office. Just two of the top 50 grossing films of all time garnered Oscars for Best Picture. That's got to tell you something.
No offense Jean, but at least in the eyes of film backers and studio stockholders, reviewers/Academy members are dead wrong. Except, that is, when it came to Gigli. Prediction: Blockbuster will stock two copies.
Consider this: One of the best pieces of commercial literature ever written was Jack Kerouac's On the Road. When it was released, established author Norman Mailer snobbishly scoffed, "That's not writing, it's typing!"
Funny but that's what my wife says about my prose.
comments (9)
You hit the nail on the head!I mean who gives a crap about some aging musicians.Farewell tours are just another way to say;"Last chance to see us at least untill the money runs out."Garth Brooks has had at least three.Luckily Kiss and Aerosmith don't compound their greed by appearing in cola commercials.[or is it that kiss & aerosmith are aesthetically challenged?]Todays musicians,at least to me are talentless monkeys.Well if that is all that is being played on the radio you either accept it or put a cd player in your car.
by Windex at August 30, 2003 10:48 AM
Thanx, Windex. If you followed the link, you might have noticed that Brooks had two records in the top 50, while the Stones only had one and that was a greatest hits compilation.
I remember that silly Dr. Pepper commercial. They had three actresses swaying and pretending to enjoy the asinine country song he was singing. One of them was a sister and I swear she looked as if there no place on Earth she'd less rather be. O well, at least she got paid.
I've got tapes of both the Eagles' and Fleetwood Mac's "farewell concerts." They always try to slip in some new material and it invariably sucks.
by anna at August 30, 2003 11:39 AM
Not to hog up all the comment space...but it seems to me that talent is taking a back seat to sex in the music industry.I mean I'm all for sexy scantilly clad femmes.These days however its shock value. Madonna and Britney in an open mouth kiss on stage at that awards ceremony,then Madonna kisses Christina in similar fashion. There is a god!!!When do you think Britney and Christina are going to appear in Playboy anyway?Madonna and Tiffany have graced their pages.It's only a matter of time...or money offered.
by Windex at August 30, 2003 12:21 PM
Well, I saw that too. Somehow what should have been sexy just looked all rehearsed and ho-hum. And I sure wouldn't want to see that hag Madonna in Playboy nowadays.
Win, there's infinite comment space. Hog it all you want.
by anna at August 30, 2003 1:18 PM
To me, it seems like literature is the only bastion of postiive selling correlation to quality, and that seems to get worse and worse too. I would have to see, the larger the human population gets, this correlation eventually erodes and becomes negative and that's simply because we're getting dumber each generation. I am a case in point.
by LOCKHEED at August 30, 2003 4:06 PM
Ah Lockheed, you and your self-deprecating humor are a good thing for the human race, I assure you.
No offense taken, Anna. If a person couldn't see that XXX, Fast and Furious, Freddy v. Jason, etc. would make money hand-over-fist, then they should get out of the "business" biz. Making money and satisfying the consumer is one thing. Making an artistic statement is another.
And critics! They're just as bad. Some are snooty, some worship the studio PR departments (PR girls, and they are always girls, are all pretty and always sexily clad. Wonder why?), some are rankly unqualified and hired just because they have wild-eyed opinions that create controversy and attract attention for their employers (*cough* Manohla Dargis *cough*). Yeah, even with critics you have to pick and choose.
by jean at August 31, 2003 2:12 AM
Cool to hear the inside scoop, Jean. As I've mentioned, I'm obsessed with the blurbs in movie ads even though I never go to the theater ("This film sucked ass!!! I fell asleep during the opening credits!!!) I've noticed that the worst stinkers often have ones from the LA Times, prompting me to believe that it's basically a shill for the film industry.
by anna at August 31, 2003 7:42 AM
Heheh, that may be so, although I haven't specifically heard it... yet. I'll ask my friends that are still in the biz and see if I can get the scoop. :) I don't like any of the L.A. Times's reviewers, either. Kenneth Turan is the least-worst one to me, but I think he's too easily impressed by big-budget special effects.
by jean at September 3, 2003 2:11 AM
Well, I'm not. I'd rather watch Andy Warhol's Sleep, which is 11 hours of a chick tossing and turning.
by anna at September 3, 2003 6:46 AM