Pop-ularity

From the sit-down-for-this-one department:

I was listening to some TV On The Radio tracks I downloaded. They were from the band's material on the Touch N' Go label, and I could tell that they were good. Previously I had heard their last major label album (Return to Cookie Mountain), which featured a successful single ("Wolf Like Me") which didn't sound like the rest of the album. However, their sound tends to be that: Not all the tracks sound the same. That isn't a bad thing from an artistic standpoint.

Their tracks aren't generally "catchy" so they do take some time to grow on one (or at least on me); overall I was not inspired to listen to the Cookie Mountain disc after we got it more than once. It was not bad, by any means; it simply didn't strike that chord with me right off like some songs do--songs which are almost certainly of a lesser artistic quality.

However, it is very easy for me to listen to the TV On The Radio tracks and detect that there is talent behind them. I hope they come up in random playlists for a long time.

[This post on Aquarium Drunkard has some live TOTR tracks that are quite good.]

What intrigues me is that in their fall music preview*, Entertainment Weekly did mention TOTR's latest album, Dear Science. While I accept that in the early 21st century here that such bands are not relegated to underground publications, and that such a situation hasn't been the case in nearly two decades. Still, EW has such a mainstream, populist association for me (not that what they cover is necessarily restricted to that, I know consciously, but that doesn't change the connotation in my mind) that seeing a band that I'd consider as non-mainstream as TOTR to be something outside of what EW should spotlight. That's probably more reflective of the better marketing that such artists can get these days than anything.

So, in short, it's a different world than this probably fictitious one that is the basis for my associations. I fully admit that I tend to think that to be immensely popular is to be egregiously mediocre. (And that's not knocking egregious mediocrity; I happen to like a lot of songs which are that. I'm just identifying the relative artistic quality.) Thus, there's a certain level of difficulty for me to reconcile the non-mainstream and artistically worthwhile with being discussed in the same way as the mainstream and less artistic work that tends to be popular.

That's kind of stupid, I concede. I should be pleased that what is more worthwhile is getting its due, rather than the same ol' drivel being crammed down the throats of the masses. However, I came from a situation where there was that distinction, and it became something of a badge of honor. I can remember going to concerts in the late '80s and early '90s (my heyday for that) with my friends and looking around at the others in the crowd and thinking, Look at these poseurs. You can tell by the way they're dressed that they're not as into this band as we are. Clearly they're just here because the band happened to get a fluke hit on the radio. They probably can't even name a song off the band's last album.

The thing was: Those same people were probably looking at my friends and me and thinking the same thing about us.

It was very much a matter of being able to identify who was sincere in their appreciation of that which we took very seriously as opposed to who was merely jumping on a trend (and who undoubtedly would be jumping off as soon as that novelty wore off). When the "quality" artists were not household names, not being mentioned on TV, not something that the average person would hear about, knowing about those bands carried a tacit fraternity. Those people knew the secret handshake in a manner of speaking. Popularity was what the unworthy achieved, by allowing themselves to be sold to everybody.

That's not how it really was, of course. That was the bitter grapes attitude we unconsciously adopted to make up for not being in the mainstream. Everyone probably starts out wanting to be popular; smart people eventually figure out that being popular is as much of a curse (if not more) than a blessing.

I imagine that's what was too much for Kurt Cobain to reconcile. (Note: I was merely a Nirvana fan, not a Nirvana fanatic, so please don't jump down my throat for not having read every book about him—or, to be honest, any book about him—in the wake of him shooting himself.) I get the impression that Kurt came from that same mindset, and that's what made it particularly difficult for him, given that he more or less single-handedly (well, with the help of Krist and Dave and Butch Vig) and quite unintentionally played the key role in changing the way the situation was between what the mainstream media covered regarding the world of music. He should never have become that popular; that wasn't the way these things worked out, and that was how everyone had been comfortable with previously.

Yes, it is entirely convenient to attribute the shift to the public reaction to Nevermind (and in particular to "Smells Like Teen Spirit"), but I was 23 in 1991, and remember quite well how I perceived the distinction of what was covered by non-music magazines (representing the mainstream here) before Nirvana's major label debut came out and what is covered by them now, and I know it's what everyone (whoever that is, yes) says made the difference. I agree, based not on hearing it over and over in rock documentaries but on my personal experience. It could be completely wrong, but I don't think there's any actual "right" or "wrong" in this scenario; it is whatever one perceives it to be.

I digress, of a sort.

Anyway, I alluded to how it was likely that everyone aspired to popularity initially, but that some eventually gave up, either because they accepted it wasn't going to happen or because they saw through it and realized it wasn't all it was cracked up to be. However, there was another way that could go: They could actively sabotage the likelihood of gaining mainstream popularity.

Behold the Replacements, the patron saints of underachievement. Leader Paul Westerberg wrote some phenomenally good songs, and a watered-down version of their sound was taken to the mainstream by the Goo Goo Dolls (who were admitted 'Mats devotees), so the possibility of them getting more popular with the non-college rock crowd clearly could have happened, were it not for one thing: they stuck a metaphorical middle finger toward that.

By the very late '80s their label was trying to get them exposure by having them open for Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers on a nationwide tour. It's a difficult position for any band to fill that opening slot and try to win over another artist's fans, but Paul and the guys would come out on stage drunk (and sometimes in drag) and actively insult the crowd between songs--when they actually finished their songs.

And apparently that doesn't tend to make people want to buy your albums or request your songs on the radio. Funny that.

Sure, they recorded some songs that seemed pretty clearly intended to be radio-friendly (not that their better songs were radio-unfriendly, by any means), perhaps seeming a good idea while in the studio or to appease the label who was paying for the recording, but in the end they went out of their way to shoot down mainstream success.

I have long held the opinion that those of us who are big fans kind of like that fact. It may be on a subconscious level, but we appreciate that when we allude to the Replacements that we never have to make the follow-up statement about liking them before they got big; they never got beyond the realm of being relatively well-known in the world of those who aren't that well-known. Those 8 albums of theirs remain perfect because if you own them, you probably still listen to them; you didn't buy them because they were "hot" at one time (because they never were). They weren't spotlighted in EW or such magazines as something to look forward to.

Thank goodness.

I sincerely believe that would have kind of ruined it.

I have to imagine that had the 'Mats gotten as big as, say, R.E.M. (with videos in heavy rotation on MTV rather than just on 120 Minutes, playing amphitheaters rather than just concert halls, being a band whose name virtually everyone at least recognized, etc.)—and Paul Westerberg is a better songwriter than Michael Stipe, so it wouldn't be out of the question—then instead of just putting out a couple raw early albums, four really good albums, and two more that were Paul sliding into a solo career before officially breaking up and cementing their rock legacy as a tremendously influential band who never sold out (not that their label wouldn't have loved that), they would have transformed into something that all of the diehard fans would have stopped liking.

We were all underachieving as well, and on an unconscious level we almost certainly felt represented by them.

That's not suggesting they were shooting their prospects for big-time success in the foot just to keep from losing their audience; they simply weren't any more comfortable with being that successful as their fans were.

Of course, that's just my take on it; I could be wrong. And I'm sure I'll be told that I am. (That's why there's a Thoughts on This link below.)

* Yes, the EW issue in question came out weeks ago. I put this post on hold until after the election stuff subsided.