Good Music/Bad Music
Masturbate…, sorry, MASS DEBATE!
Can’t beat a good one (either one will do)!
At this time of year, with the X-Factor final truly upon us, one particular debate often ensues. That of the legitimacy of such shows and the people contained therein. Are they being exploited? Are they any good? Do we really care what Cheryl’s dress is like? Could Simon Cowell appear anymore smug? Do any of us really give a flying fuck?
But amongst the world of musos, the main topic of debate when it comes to these types of shows is the quality of the music and performers, or lack thereof. And this debate has risen, yet again. But this year, I have been involved in it via Twitter rather than around the water cooler in the office. And there has been one protagonist in my selection of Twitter follows in particular. I’m not going to mention names, or give links, but suffice to say, this individual is most vocal on the subject. In fact, out of all the people I follow on Twitter, he is by far and away the biggest X Factor twitterer I know. Which is strange because he actually detests it. With a passion. With such venom and bile that Hitler’s hatred of the Jews fairly pales by comparison.
Now, let me say that I am no fan of the show either. It’s exploitative in it’s early stages. The producers deliberately pick the freakish and bizarre to satisfy the viewers lust for people who are “worse then themselves”. Then, once it gets to the “boot camp” phase, we get the heart rendering sob stories of hardship, suffering, bereavement and pain that will endear these individuals to our hearts for the next 12 weeks or so. And then ultimately, we get the finals stage, where Simon gets to be mean, Louis gets to be camp, Danni gets to be angry and Cheryl… well, Cheryl just gets to be Cheryl. And one by one, these poor modern day equivalents of circus freaks are booted off in favour of some headline grabbing loon until we are left with 3 reasonably capable singers, belting out covers in the hope to be that years Xmas No.1.
So, hopefully, dear reader, you are under no illusion that my personal opinion of the show is not entirely favourable. But do I care about it? Do I let it keep me awake at night? No. Not in the slightest. and why should I? What is there for me to be so upset about? It’s just entertainment, no?
You see, and here is where I finally get to the subject in the title of this post, my opinion of X Factor matters not one jot. Because, whilst there is an audience for it, and fuck me is there an audience for it, it is making a lot of people happy. The contestants are willing. None of them are there against their will. Everyone’s a winner, aren’t they?
Well, not according to my Twitter acquaintance. If he is to be believed, X Factor and it’s ilk are single-handedly responsible for the ruination of “proper, real music” as we know it. Such is it’s negative influence that the music industry is doomed to fuckery. It’s an apocalyptic disaster on an immense scale and purveyors of (what he calls) “good” music are suffering at Cowell’s mean and wizened old hand.
Furthermore, this member of the twitterati equally lambastes any form of art that is not in agreeance with his own taste. And it doesn’t stop there. Apparently, if you eat and enjoy brussel sprouts, you have the culinary intellect of a dung beetle.
But back to the music.
The debate on Twitter rages on, with myself and a number of others challenging this individuals oft flaunted and frequently thuggish opinions. Comparisons are drawn between X Factor finalists and a number of artists who, in this man’s humble opinion, are the pinnacle of musical creativity. And there is the point.
IN HIS OPINION.
Now, we all have music we don’t like. In our opinion, that particular music is worse than the music we do like. But it is simply OUR opinion. We are all entitled to those opinions and we are all entitled to express those opinions. And if we can back that opinion up with a reasoned, respectful and intelligent argument, even better. But it still won’t change the fact that it is just an opinion. Many might share it, with varying degrees of passion. Many will disagree, but it is of no matter. The bottom line is, we all like something different. Many of us like the same things, but we each have personal tastes. I went to college with a guy who adored Napalm Death. He would eulogise about them, explain the depth and meaning behind many of their 20 second long tracks. Such was his passion for the band that I could do nothing but admire him. But fuck me, I can’t stand Napalm Death. In my opinion, it is bereft of all the things I enjoy about music. But it doesn’t make Napalm Death or their fans any less valid, relevant and worthy of contemplation than any other musical artist out there.
For those of you with children, do you recall your child’s first exploration with music? It may have been singing, or rudimentary drumming on tubs and pots. I bought my daughter a small keyboard when she was about 3, and she would often come into my studio and play with whichever synth her little legs would elevate her up to. The cacophony that ensued was at times painful, but the sheer joy it brought to her was clear for all to see. She would play me a tune, summon me into her room and show me something she had been practising for hours. It lacked melody, chord structure, tempo and any semblance of a song, but to her it was awesome. And it was to me too. Here was a little girl making her first steps into the exploration of one of the most primitive of human instincts and that song to her and to me was a masterpiece. No one else would have liked it. But we did.
So, when my old college friend played me some Napalm Death, I sat there, gobsmacked and somewhat horrified, but he sat there, sucked in and enjoying the moment. To him, and the rest of Napalm Death’s extensive fan base, it meant something.
And Olly, Joe and Stacey all mean something to someone too. And that their performances bring joy and entertainment to those people is no less important than a bunch of music critics blowing their wad over the latest Radiohead album.
And that’s what it boils down to. Everyone is a critic. But music, and most other forms of art are unable to be properly criticised. You can rave about something or slag something off, but no matter how shit you think the latest Girls Aloud album is, there are millions of people who garner much pleasure from it. And that doesn’t make them less of a human being. They can just as easily turn around and slate you for your taste in shoe wear, or the dodgy aftershave you are wearing. Recently, a music critic wrote a less than favourable review of a Chris de Burgh show. It was a pretty scathing one too. And Mr de Burgh took umbridge. GREAT umbridge infact. So much so that he wrote a well constructed response to his attacker, pointing out that the hall had been full of fans, every one of them enjoying whatever it is CdB does on stage. One critic, sees a show, hates it, writes about it, completely unaware of the thousand or so people around him ENJOYING it!! Whilst I’m no CdB fan, he went up in my estimation a lot after that.
In my very humble opinion, there was only ever one genuine music critic. John Peel. He loved music. Not a particular type. Just music. It was his very reason for existence. And if he heard something that he thought wasn’t up to being played on his show (which was rare) he would give constructive, positive feedback to that artist. And if they tried again and succeeded, he’d give them airtime. But John’s gift was to not act as a filter. He was a facilitator and respected the listeners own judgement. It was the most incredible gift that he had, and he shared that gift and the privilege that it brought with every band whose music he played or showcased. So many owe him so much. I had the pleasure of meeting him once or twice, as he lived just up the road from me and I also went to school with his kids. He was, to the last, a music fan. Not a fan of particular artists. Just a fan of music, in all it’s wonderful glory and myriad forms. To paraphrase Luke Skywalker, if musical snobbery is the centre of the universe, John Peel was the furthest thing from it.
Artistic snobbery is a vain, vacuous, pompous form of bullying. To judge people on their artistic tastes is such a vile and shallow act that it merely confirms the lack of intelligence of the critic.
Bullies do what they do through fear. So an artistic bully is fearful of the impact of what they perceive as “lightweight, vapid” strains of their chosen art form. They fear them because they fear the attention is being drawn from themselves and so they profess to be finer than the rest. They belittle anyone outside their chosen circle of artistic peers. But they themselves are guilty of the very thing they criticise others for. They are equally infatuated and sycophantic about the artists THEY love as the others are about their preferred artist. They are equally fawning and sluttish in their pursuit of their idols. But the difference is that the “others” couldn’t give a flying fuck. They know what they like, they know why they like it and they just get on with it. No justification required. There is no evidence to support these bullies claims that shows like the X Factor and other forms of art that they would consider unworthy take anything away from other musicians or artists. In fact, the supply of new musical talent has never been so abundant. Week after week, new talent emerges, not just in the charts (which are nothing more than a guide to what pre-pubescent girls are currently spending their pocket money on) but in bars, clubs and other venues all over the UK. Commercial success comparative to those acts we see plastered all over the TV & radio is no longer important or relevant. The internet is allowing us to consume new, fresh music daily. We as consumers are now totally in control of what we are fed. If you want to listen to playlisted radio, go ahead, but services like Blip, Last.fm and Spotify are what people are flocking too now.
When panning for gold, you see it better when it is surrounded by dirt. Therefore, we need the contrast to appreciate the quality.
So, by way of conclusion, no matter what you like and what you don’t like, belittling and demeaning others for their musical tastes is a disgusting act. Subjectivity is the only true constant in musical criticism and that defeats the supposed object of the exercise of critique. When a music journalist praises or condemns a song or artist, it is nothing more than that person’s opinion. They don’t know you. They don’t know what you like. The ONLY thing a critic knows is what THEY like. And if you make your artistic consumption decisions based on a critic’s opinion, then you will never get to sample the real joys of art in all it’s forms.
Like what you like, enjoy what you enjoy and be humble, magnanimous and polite enough to respect the freedom of choice and taste of others, just like they do of you.
