"Selling Out" Claims Are Out of Bounds

As a music fan, I'm heard the phrase "selling out" more times than I can count. For many music geeks, whenever their favorite underground/indie artist decides to sign to a major label, tops the Billboard 200 (as Modest Mouse's We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank did this year), lends their song to a car commercial or *gasps* releases an album at Starbucks (which Sonic Youth will be doing when their Hits Are for Squares comp is released later this year), it's essentially a sign of the apocalypse. In their minds, they are throwing their credibility out the window to join forces with the Dark Side. And I can never understand why.

Seriously, why must people hate and even loathe a band once they leave the underground and enter the mainstream? It's like they honestly think that, once a band hits the big time, they suddenly make music to fill their wallets, sell their souls to the corporate world and appeal to the masses, rather than for the art of music itself. But isn't the point of making music to make something that is relevant, appealing, and connects with people? And isn't that exactly what most "mainstream" bands have done? True, there are bands and artists out there who do make music just so people will buy their records and line their pockets (*cough* Fall Out Boy *cough*), but a great deal of bands out there are like Radiohead, Pearl Jam, The White Stripes, etc; they make the kind of music they want to make without compromising their musical integrity and vision, and it just so happens that their music connects with a lot of people and sells a lot of records as a result.

Last year I self-released an album with my band, Lifeless Riot, and one of these days (when time allows it), I'd love to start a promotional push and get my songs noticed by the music community. Will I try to get my music played on local radio stations and noticed by labels and A&R people in order for this to happen? Of course, because I want my music to be heard and have it connect to people, just like my favorite artists' music (like Neil Young, Pearl Jam, The Beatles) has connected with me. And in order to do that, bands have to get radio play, conduct interviews and appear on television shows in order to get exposure and get their music heard. It's a necessary evil. Now if a band continues to do the same old song and dance in order to guarantee that they will continue to sell records, or their intentionally experiment because they feel as if they have to by the press, then that's another matter. Otherwise most bands just want to make the kind of music that they want to make, and hopefully others out there will connect with it. I know I don't want to play dive-bars and clubs, sell 500 copies of an album and barely afford to eat and keep a roof over my head just to establish indie cred and develop some rabid cult following, and I'm sure that's the case with most artists, as well.

And really, trying to appease these music nerds and the music press is a lose-lose situation that isn't even worst dealing with. From what I've observed, if a band or artists makes a string of albums that sound anything alike (whether the quality is consistent or not), then these people will accuse them of repeating themselves, treading water stylistically, and running out of ideas or anything new to say. But then if an artist decides to experiment with their music, and their efforts fail in the eyes of these beholders, then they will lambaste them, claiming that they've fallen victim to self-indulgence and pretension, and that it pails in comparison to their best work (i.e. the album(s) that got them famous in the first place). Believe me, for every "Yankee Hotel Foxtrot" and "Kid A," there's thousands of 'Metal Machine Music"s and "Music for the Elder"s. So it's best that artists just forget about pleasing anybody and just make their own music, and hope that someone out there will hear it.

And really, that's all that fans are; the people that hear the music. Artists, for the most part, don't use music like bait to intentionally find a fan base; fans are people who are attracted to the music that they hear. If an artist develops a following of people that latch onto their music and can connect with it, then that's great. But they don't owe you anything. They don't have to stay on an indie label, remain under the radar, or avoid the charts like the plague in order to keep people happy. In the end, it’s their music, and as long as they have good intentions, then no one can tell them what to do.

— Jason Shoff

What happens when bands go broke? Reunion!

Whether we like it or not, most of our favorite bands seldom achieve Rolling Stones-esque longevity, touring and recording music until the only rocking they're doing is in a chair. Whether it's due to wanting to go out on top, egos ballooning to the point where band members loathe each others' guts, or the infamous "creative differences," most bands come to an end at some point. This leaves music labels to milk the cash cow by releasing countless compilations, and history to decide the bands’ ultimate fate and relevance in music history. But on occasion — whether it be solo careers not going as planned, money running out of bank accounts, or public outcry — bands will occasionally reunite to perform at a concert, go on tour to reload their wallets, or even attempt to record new material and become a full-fledged band again. However, in these past couple of years — especially this past summer — more bands than ever have been putting aside their creative personal differences and have been hitting the road, performing their greatest hits to an audience clamoring to hear them in person. And in the end, it's all about the moolah.

Now I know most of them will try and tell you differently. They'll say that they're putting old grudges aside to add proper endings to their histories — to give their fans proper curtain calls before they wrap things up for good. Or that they feel like the time is just right to bring their old songs back from the dead and give them new life. Or that they want to go back into the studios again to see if they can still make music together and if that chemistry is still there. But more often than not, most of these reunions smack of greed, especially at a time when the music industry is struggling to make money in a peer-to-peer world. And a reunion tour is one of the few certain things in today's music world.

Take, for instance, the reunion of legendary (and infamously volatile) classic-rock group Cream. It was no secret that bassist Jack Bruce and drummer Ginger Baker were struggling — achieving nowhere near the success that guitarist Eric Clapton had. But once their subsequent reunion shows in London and New York City were announced, a tremendous amount of hype built up in the press, and people paid top dollar to see these shows, and then bought the subsequent DVD and CD releases of the shows afterward. And all three were rewarded for putting their differences aside with big ego boosts and fuller pocketbooks. The same can be said for The Who and the Eagles; once the well started to run dry, and the offers were too good to refuse, these bands hit the road as an instant and surefire way to replenish their bank accounts. In fact, both bands have even recorded new albums as a way to make more money off of fans and have another reason to tour.

And the irony of it all is that the alternative rock community — a community that once prided itself in being anti-establishment and D.I.Y. — seems to be hit the hardest by the reunion bug. In the band’s day, the Pixies were an underground band with a cult-following, but thanks to the band’s legacy since it split, the members have since been able to sell out theaters across the country on the last reunion tour. And Dinosaur Jr. — whose bassist, Lou Barlow, has recently stated that all communication between him and guitarist J. Mascis has to go through Mascis' manager — have put their grudges aside long enough to play several highly-acclaimed tours and record an album that features some of their best music yet. Other bands don't even let a crucial member's absence get in the way. The remaining members of influential rock act The Jam have gone out on tour, despite the glaring absence of songwriter/guitarist/signer Paul Weller. Alice in Chains have also reunited for several tours, despite the fact that lead singer Layne Stayley died of a heroin overdose five years ago, and Blind Melon (of "No Rain" fame) have also announced a tour despite the death of singer Shannon Hoon. INXS went so far as to let an American TV audience decide who their replacement for singer Michael Hutchence would be.

Even though reunions can make big bucks for a band, it can have a devastating effect on their legacy. Take The Stooges, who reunited and have played shows that many have said recreate the sound of the band’s classic proto-punk albums. But this past spring the band released an album that, for many critics (and myself), is one of the worst of the year. Really, Iggy Pop was never a poet laureate, but when a band’s lyrics now involve hanging around an ATM and your dick turning into a tree, it should be a clear signal that it's time to hang things up.

Yet, from the many major reunion tours that are taking place this year, many bands fail to let a good thing die. Take the Smashing Pumpkins, for example. After the Pumpkins-on-Prozac sounds of Zwan and a solo album that sounded like second-rate Depeche Mode, Billy Corgan was inching close to Creed-like levels of irrelevancy. So what did he do? He took out a full-page ad to declare his intent to "get his band back," recorded an album with Jimmy Chamberlin that sounds like classic Pumpkins circa Mellon Collie, released four different versions of it (each with an "exclusive promo track" you can only get at said store), and booked a tour with James Iha and D'Arcy look alikes. And what happens? The album places No. 2 on the Billboard album chart, and the tour is a sell-out across the country.

Zach de la Rocha was also fading into obscurity just as fast, with a solo career that resulted in 0 albums after 7 years, making Axl Rose seem like metal's Ryan Adams by comparison. The rest of his old band, however, was having chart-topping success, with Chris Cornell in the band Audioslave (though rifts were starting to show during the release of their last album, Revelations). Suddenly, once that band met its demise, Rage announced their reunion show at Coachella, saying that their music was more relevant than ever with the Bush administration's Iraq fiasco, and that their reunion would deliver a "knock-out punch." They have since played a select number of shows, and though I'd like to believe that politics is the sole reason for their reunion, time will tell.

Less likely I believe, however, is David Lee Roth. During the press conference for Van Halen's reunion tour, Roth stated that this reincarnation is not a reunion, but a "whole new band that will continue to grow and evolve." But only a year ago, Roth was calling Eddie Van Halen "Eddie Van Heineken," and Van Halen was threatening to kick Roth's ass the next time he saw him. I guess that's what happens when your solo, radio, and paramedic careers sink like the Titanic.

Out of all the reunions, the biggest by far is that of The Police. So far, this is the only one I've attended so far, mostly because this is one of the few tours that transcends mere "concert" status and becomes an "event." In all honestly, The Police were one of my favorite rock bands growing up, and the fact that they were reuniting to perform some of my favorite songs in concert was a once in a lifetime event that I couldn't refuse. They put on a great show; they sounded great; Sting was in fine voice; and the band actually looked like they were having a good time onstage. But after paying $55 for a ticket, $35 for a T-shirt and $25 for a program (not to mention $6.50 for a hamburger and soda), I left with the feeling that there was more to it than just tying up loose ends, and that, if Sting's solo career was at the same level it was in the ’80s, this wouldn't have even happened.

So in the end, very few reunion tours feel genuine, as the Pink Floyd reunion at Live 8 did. Here, they would only play once to support a noble cause. There usually always seems to be some sort of ulterior motive that bands never let the public in on, but it hardly matters, as the public bites anyway. And yet as I'm typing this last paragraph, I read that the holy grail of band reunions, Led Zeppelin, has scheduled a press conference, supposedly to announce a one-off reunion gig in London in honor of late Atlantic Records founder Ahmet Ertegun. Now this is definitely an admirable gig, paying tribute to the man who made Led Zeppelin Led Zeppelin. But a part of me feels that, if this show goes well enough and there's an offer on the table, a bank account-filling tour will soon follow.

— Jason Shoff

A new no-talent Internet star is born

There's no better time to be an average Joe than today.

Seriously, if you are an average American who is obsessed with fame and achieving it to some degree, this is the perfect era in which to live. If you want to show the world how stupid you are by actually thinking you could have pulled off that rail, all you need to do is post a video on YouTube.com, and it will be viewed by millions. If you’ve always wanted to eat dead insects, live in a house with total strangers in some random locale, fill your car with all kinds of superfluous gadgets, or have the whole world know that you have a giant clock fetish, then the reality show is the way to go. Or if you want to become a pop superstar — the next Britney Spears with your hair still intact — all you need is a guitar, a song and a dream (talent isn’t required in the slightest), and you can post your music on sites like Myspace.com and YouTube.com for all the world to listen to. This is exactly what Adam ‘Tay Zonday’ Bahner did with his song “Chocolate Rain,” and he in turn has created a national phenomenon that no one can escape.

With a synth riff that only a child of the 80s could love (and hasn’t been heard in the mainstream since Soft Cell ruled the airwaves) and a voice that sounds like James Earl Jones before hitting puberty, Bahner has managed to create a pop phenomenon that makes one long for the days when “No Strings Attached” was No. 1 on the charts. On top an old-school arrangement that screams for a Michael Ian Black quip, Baher himself sounds like a broken record, singing lyrics that try their damnedest to sound substantial, but come off as a slight commentary on today’s society. Take, for instance, the very first line:

“Chocolate rain / some stay dry and others feel the pain.”

Seriously, it would be impossible for one to feel pain from chocolate rain. Why? Because it’s chocolate rain. If I found out it were raining chocolate rain, I would be standing in it, trying to drink as much of it as possible. Unless Baher is talking about after the fact, once everyone gains 50 pounds from drinking all the chocolate rain. Or he’s trying to see this through the eye of a diabetic, in which case it would seem like the end of the world (the “achocolypse,” if you will). Or how about this golden refrain:

“Chocolate rain / history quickly crashing through your veins.”

I’m sorry, but nothing, not even chocolate rain, could make history crash through my veins. If anything, all of my history classes have the same effects as a good tranquilizer; once it’s in your system, you’re pretty much out like a light for the next 40 minutes.

(I move away from my computer to catch some air before finishing my post.)

So in the end, what we have is a noble attempt at a song that, before the age of the World Wide Web, wouldn’t have found a place on any TV show, let alone Best Week Ever. And yet thanks to the glory of YouTube.com, millions have watched it, everyone from John Mayer to Tre Cool has covered it, and Baher even performed it on “Jimmy Kimmel Live” (to the bewilderment of many in the audience). Chalk it up to being a case of the William Hung Effect: guy posts song on Web, people think it’s funny, they send it to their friends going “check this out. This dude is making a total ass out of himself!” and it spreads like wildfire. There might be some sympathy to it, but overall it’s a case of people taking pleasure out of one’s lack of talent. Now I have to give the guy an A for effort; he has created a song that has become an inescapable pop culture phenomenon, and he does seem to be rather humbled by the song’s success. Let’s just hope there’s someone telling him, “Don’t quit your day job. Oh, and they’re laughing at you, not with you.”

— Jason Shoff