Spike
Rock & Soul Archaelogist
Kath is one my favorite posters on the planet. For several days I’ve been rolling around a recent blog entry from ex kathedra in my mind in the manner of a wine snob at a tasting.
You can find it here: http://www.classicrockforums.com/forum/showthread.php?p=11390#post11390
In this gem of a post, Kath describes in her inimitable style what it means to be “derivative” and “commercial” in music. I would never be so presumptuous to assume that she had me in mind when she wrote this. But because I am certainly of the type that she so cleverly lampoons, I would like to respond. My response is of a “yea, but…” variety; I agree with almost everything she says but I feel compelled to add my two cents worth – a reflection of my inability to shuddup.
On her first point, Kath asks:
“how "derivative" is music? say, white brit guys playing ole american blues? the monkees from the beatles? the ramones from chuck berry? nsync from the monkees from the beatles from chuck berry? where did the blues come from? how derivative is a love song, a ballad...? how close is the wreck of the edmund fitzgerald to the medieval ballad of sir patrick spens, and how close is spens to some poor ancient sap going down with his trireme in the mediterranean?”
Then Kath concludes that:
“everything is derivative, in one form or another, in piece afer piece after piece, just as every human is. the problem comes, i think, when a critic uses that as an automatic put-down, as a way of writing off something outright as unoriginal. and the humor comes, i think, when said critic picks a certain spot on the human musical experience timeline as the marker for originality. ("i'm sorry, you idjuts, but the first version of 'my baby done left me' occurred in june, 1923, on a hill in arkansas.")…maybe it's just me, but none of that has anything to do with whether something's good or not.”
As someone pompous enough to label himself a “rock & soul archaelogist,” I have a keen interest in all things “derivative.” I love history and I love tradition. I revel in the fact that “The John B Sails” was a Bahamian folk song of uncertain age that made it’s way into Carl Sandburg’s “American Songbag” in 1927; that Alan Lomax produced a field recording of it in 1935; that it was rediscovered by the Weavers in 1950; who inspired the Kingston Trio to record it in 1958; a recording that came to the attention of Al Jardine of The Beach Boys in 1966; and shortly thereafter found its way to my ear through a tinny AM radio. The fact that The Beach Boys version was derived from a long line of previous versions in no way reduces my great affection for the song. And it would be absurd to claim that the original 1935 version can’t be topped because it came first.
Yea, I agree with Kath up to this point, but… here’s my extra two cents...
First, while I have no problem with modern artists redoing traditional material, I am bothered when musicians knowingly ignore history and tradition by claiming undue credit for traditional material. I’m not talking about stealing a riff – that has happened since the dawn of time. I’m talking about taking credit for a song that has a history.
Second, Kath rightly makes the point that it’s absurd to assume that the original version from 1923 is automatically superior to more recent versions. But the converse it also true. I’ve read posts on boards such as this which ascribe to an immutable law of evolution that decrees that the classic rock version is automatically superior to those that came before. To even suggest that Blind Willie Johnson was the equal of Jimmy Page on the slide guitar is met with expressions of disbelief and/or peals of laughter. The attitude is that there have been so many advances that a primitive from the 20s shouldn’t even be considered in the same breath with a modern god.
Now, on to “commercial…”
Kath observes that:
“i just luvvvvvvvvvvvvvv this one. it's obvious that most critics just don't make enough money at what they do, and they're pretty damn bitter about it. we all know the put-down. artists who make money or who become popular are sellouts, sacrificing True Art (with a capital T & A) for making mindless, mammony sheep fodder.
um, yeah. the implication? a true artist suffers in poverty for his art. if he's really great, ahem, he'll die alone and unwashed somewhere in a freezing garret with TB oozing from his fingertips and rickets reeking from his f-holes. of course, he should only become legendary after death. (lord knows he loses all credibility if he manages to taste success while he can still fucquin use it.)”
No disagreement from me on these basic questions of art and commerce. I’m not going to begrudge anyone the fruits of their labors. The notion that the starving artist is a saint and the commercially successful artist a sell-out is bullsh*t. If commerce flows from the art, let it flow. But – as always – I have to add a couple of footnotes on commercial practices that bother me.
The first example is the Monkees. I do not begrudge them their commercial success, it’s just that I cannot appreciate their art. They were designed for commercial purposes by a corporate entity. Any art that was produced was an accidental by-product of an industrial process. That makes a difference to me.
The second example is Zeppelin. Again, I’ve got no problem with their commercial success. But I personally have a problem when some folks make huge profits at the financial expense of others or by failing to give tradition its due. It conflicts with my values. Millions will defend them, as is their prerogative. But it makes a difference to me.
In theory, I agree with Kath when she says, “none of that has anything to do with whether something's good or not.”
But Kath also concludes by saying:
“what's actually good then?
...whatever *i* like. geeeeez.”
I agree. What’s good is whatever I like.
What we like – and consider “good” – is influenced by how we personally feel about some of the issues that Kath has raised.
What do you think?
Spike
You can find it here: http://www.classicrockforums.com/forum/showthread.php?p=11390#post11390
In this gem of a post, Kath describes in her inimitable style what it means to be “derivative” and “commercial” in music. I would never be so presumptuous to assume that she had me in mind when she wrote this. But because I am certainly of the type that she so cleverly lampoons, I would like to respond. My response is of a “yea, but…” variety; I agree with almost everything she says but I feel compelled to add my two cents worth – a reflection of my inability to shuddup.
On her first point, Kath asks:
“how "derivative" is music? say, white brit guys playing ole american blues? the monkees from the beatles? the ramones from chuck berry? nsync from the monkees from the beatles from chuck berry? where did the blues come from? how derivative is a love song, a ballad...? how close is the wreck of the edmund fitzgerald to the medieval ballad of sir patrick spens, and how close is spens to some poor ancient sap going down with his trireme in the mediterranean?”
Then Kath concludes that:
“everything is derivative, in one form or another, in piece afer piece after piece, just as every human is. the problem comes, i think, when a critic uses that as an automatic put-down, as a way of writing off something outright as unoriginal. and the humor comes, i think, when said critic picks a certain spot on the human musical experience timeline as the marker for originality. ("i'm sorry, you idjuts, but the first version of 'my baby done left me' occurred in june, 1923, on a hill in arkansas.")…maybe it's just me, but none of that has anything to do with whether something's good or not.”
As someone pompous enough to label himself a “rock & soul archaelogist,” I have a keen interest in all things “derivative.” I love history and I love tradition. I revel in the fact that “The John B Sails” was a Bahamian folk song of uncertain age that made it’s way into Carl Sandburg’s “American Songbag” in 1927; that Alan Lomax produced a field recording of it in 1935; that it was rediscovered by the Weavers in 1950; who inspired the Kingston Trio to record it in 1958; a recording that came to the attention of Al Jardine of The Beach Boys in 1966; and shortly thereafter found its way to my ear through a tinny AM radio. The fact that The Beach Boys version was derived from a long line of previous versions in no way reduces my great affection for the song. And it would be absurd to claim that the original 1935 version can’t be topped because it came first.
Yea, I agree with Kath up to this point, but… here’s my extra two cents...
First, while I have no problem with modern artists redoing traditional material, I am bothered when musicians knowingly ignore history and tradition by claiming undue credit for traditional material. I’m not talking about stealing a riff – that has happened since the dawn of time. I’m talking about taking credit for a song that has a history.
Second, Kath rightly makes the point that it’s absurd to assume that the original version from 1923 is automatically superior to more recent versions. But the converse it also true. I’ve read posts on boards such as this which ascribe to an immutable law of evolution that decrees that the classic rock version is automatically superior to those that came before. To even suggest that Blind Willie Johnson was the equal of Jimmy Page on the slide guitar is met with expressions of disbelief and/or peals of laughter. The attitude is that there have been so many advances that a primitive from the 20s shouldn’t even be considered in the same breath with a modern god.
Now, on to “commercial…”
Kath observes that:
“i just luvvvvvvvvvvvvvv this one. it's obvious that most critics just don't make enough money at what they do, and they're pretty damn bitter about it. we all know the put-down. artists who make money or who become popular are sellouts, sacrificing True Art (with a capital T & A) for making mindless, mammony sheep fodder.
um, yeah. the implication? a true artist suffers in poverty for his art. if he's really great, ahem, he'll die alone and unwashed somewhere in a freezing garret with TB oozing from his fingertips and rickets reeking from his f-holes. of course, he should only become legendary after death. (lord knows he loses all credibility if he manages to taste success while he can still fucquin use it.)”
No disagreement from me on these basic questions of art and commerce. I’m not going to begrudge anyone the fruits of their labors. The notion that the starving artist is a saint and the commercially successful artist a sell-out is bullsh*t. If commerce flows from the art, let it flow. But – as always – I have to add a couple of footnotes on commercial practices that bother me.
The first example is the Monkees. I do not begrudge them their commercial success, it’s just that I cannot appreciate their art. They were designed for commercial purposes by a corporate entity. Any art that was produced was an accidental by-product of an industrial process. That makes a difference to me.
The second example is Zeppelin. Again, I’ve got no problem with their commercial success. But I personally have a problem when some folks make huge profits at the financial expense of others or by failing to give tradition its due. It conflicts with my values. Millions will defend them, as is their prerogative. But it makes a difference to me.
In theory, I agree with Kath when she says, “none of that has anything to do with whether something's good or not.”
But Kath also concludes by saying:
“what's actually good then?
...whatever *i* like. geeeeez.”
I agree. What’s good is whatever I like.
What we like – and consider “good” – is influenced by how we personally feel about some of the issues that Kath has raised.
What do you think?
Spike
