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The
Sad Decline of Good Music
‘Hole
should go on tour with the Offspring. They could be called,
‘The
Almighty Crap Tour…’
Henry
Rollins-from the book, ‘Smile, You’re Traveling’
Something had been troubling me for some time, but I just
couldn’t put
my finger on it. I knew I spent much more time listening to old AC/DC,
Black Sabbath and Slayer than I did to the radio, but I didn’t
understand
why. There was nothing new to listen to in my car. Then one day, it
came
to me like the angel of death. Hold on tight, wee ones. I’m going
to tell
you the tale of when I realized we are all in great jeopardy of seeing
the end of good music as we know it.
I sat reading my book under the dreadful florescent lights of the
parking
garage, curled up in my car, away from noise, suits, squids and
irritations
of the office I was working in. I had an hour to eat and get some
reading
in before back to the grind and I’m going to spend it with Henry
Rollins.
Rollins, former lead singer of punk band, Black Flag, has very firm
beliefs
on the state of the music industry today and those who inhabit
it.
Nose deep in the pages of my autographed copy and gleefully sucking up
the grains of wisdom; it was here that I came across a point that
summed
up the past decade in music.
The music of this generation is weak, there’s no better way of
putting
it. With the rare exception, I haven’t heard a song that tore
into my gut
and enveloped my spirit for a very long time. What am I saying? Am I
just
getting old, the twenty-something old soul that passes judgment upon a
whole generation? Take it whatever way you want, but the nauseating,
miss-notes,
the lack of grit, the pathetic need for brainless bands to the word
F**K
like it was a vowel in Wheel Of Fortune? The creepy crossbreeding of
metal
and rap? The endless amount of symphony collaborations? Get me a
bucket;
I think I’m going to toss.
The Rollins quote floored me. After reading one line of text, the whole
mess became clear. The angels sang and the gates opened up, I had found
my answer. I sat with a look of pure satisfaction that must have
resembled
a freshman after bagging the head cheerleader. Here was finally
someone
that agreed with my views of the sad decline of our generation’s
interpretation
of popular music. Explain to me how Hole’s ‘Doll
Parts’ gained mega-rotation?
Can Courtney Love really sing? Could she put on lipstick before
becoming
a Hollywood starlet? Did anyone even know who she was before her
husband,
basket case visionary, Kurt Cobain, blew his brains out? I don’t
think
so. And don’t even get me started on the Offspring. As much as I
appreciate
the way they treat their fans, their position on the Napster/MP3 issue,
etc, their talent is non-existent. C’mon, even after the copious
amount
of post production that goes into an album expected to sell a couple of
million copies, they still couldn’t cover all the hell that is
Dexter’s
voice. Don’t throw the punk defense in this argument,
because Johnny
Rotten had a better vocal ability. The Offspring live is something I
want
to experience again as much as I would having a hook jammed up my nose
to puncture my brain. It is actually painful to sit through.
(before you say, ‘but you bought the ticket!” get real. I
only sat through
a Much Music Live and Interactive with The Offspring. The bizarre
fascination
that is caused was much like rubbernecking at a car accident. A
friend
actually called to see if we were watching the mess so we collectively
laugh at them).
Even
the newborns
on the scene like Papa Roach and Linken Park make me wretch.
Then lo and behold, Poison goes on your with Slaughter, Dokken and
Cinderella.
Now every eighties glam-metal band is back, recording an album of dead
horse-beating garbage, that will get sympathy play on radio for a
couple
of weeks and remain forgettable. I am always impressed to see them get
back up, short hair and a pack of mini-CC’s watching dad
masturbate with
his BC Rich, but have some dignity. If they actually
grew
up and put
something out that wasn’t regurgitated, kudos to you all. If you
stop treading
water, you’re going to sink. Instead of getting CPR, just lie at
the bottom
of the pool. I saw a clip of Tesla playing their first show together in
something like ten years. That band kicked serious ass years ago, but
Jeff
Keith sounded like hell and Tommy Skeoch looked like he’d rather
be fishing
dead goldfish out of pet shop aquariums than playing with these guys
again.
It seems that the only ones to get it right are the ones who have done
it right all along. Iron Maiden put out a truly exceptional album with
Brave New World. Pantera will never accompany a symphony for a new
market.
Motorhead can play until they are in need of Depends and never suck.
Black
Sabbath will be thankfully back, rumoured to be headlining the Ozzfest
tour this year, and what metalhead wouldn’t give his first born
to have
one of those tickets in their ‘I’ve been waiting my entire
existence for
these’ hands. AC/DC will never slow down and bless them for it. I
would
watch Angus play guitar from his wheelchair at the ACC thirty years
from
now and he will stick rock it out better than any of the bands today.
With
the same stuff they’ve been doing since the dawn of time, it
still kicks
ass and everyone knows it and loves it and will pay for it. Even front
man, Brian Johnson, made mention that he has been depressed with the
quality
bands hitting the air today.
But that’s exactly it. We have been relying on the resurrection
(no pun
intended, Mr. Halford) of the grandfathers of metal and rock for the
past
decade. The dyed black hair and blood sucking antics of today’s
bands are
growing stale. The shock conquest of Marilyn Manson has become
‘dried up,
tied and dead to the world’, apparent by lacked sales of
Holywood. The
juvenile, pubescent trash talk of bands like Limp Bizkit is just that,
juvenile, and they thankfully have said that when people start to lose
interest they will wrap it up (if there is a god….)
Another
frightening
fact is that record companies are signing less talent these days
because
they say they are losing money. Losing money! Since Napster’s
creation,
the shipping of compact disks went through the roof! There are
genuinely
talented bands out there waiting to be signed and these companies are
not
signing bands because there are losing money??? I have an ingenious
idea
Mr. Geffen, Mr. Warner, Mr. Sony. Let’s try paying attention to
the sites
on the Internet that are actually putting talent on an alter for you to
see with your bloody eyes???? There is not only The Pit making this
attempt.
In fact, many bands, even bigger names already signed to labels, are
depending
on the faithfulness of fans to endorse them via street teams, online
publications
and message boards rather then depending on the weak promotional
practices
of record labels. It’s at crisis stage, people, so support
the bands
and sites that are working to get original material out there instead
of
re-worked Korn.
And
if you think
I’m wrong that all has gone astray, then find me some futures
classics
in the top ten….
As
always, the pleasure is all mine.
Pandora
Henry
Rollins
Toronto, Ontario
Mar. 16, 2001
Author:
Pandora
Who:
Henry Rollins----Rollins in the Wry
Where:
Convocation Hall U of T, Toronto
Review:
I
Can
honestly say that there is not much more I would enjoy more on a crisp,
Canadian March night than spend it with Henry Rollins and a couple of
hundred
of his adoring fans. This was a show that I had anxiously awaited since
I selfishly bought tickets as a birthday gift to myself a few weeks
earlier.
My admiration for Rollins is well documented now in the pages of The
Pit,
as is my frustration with a general lack of spirit and intelligence in
this industry. You see this is where the former singer of
Black
Flag and matriarch of The Rollins Band comes in. The valiant, literary
knight of the industry who pleads for intelligence, but rarely finds
it,
expresses much the same opinion and makes it loud and clear. And here
he
was cloaked in his no-bullshit armour of black t-shirt and pants,
telling
it like it is and giving us his soul when we’re so used to
dishonesty and
greed. We were ushered into the great Convocation Hall at the
University
of Toronto, an old domed hall used for law and medical school lectures,
by the creamy voice of Frank Sinatra, one of whom Rollins is a great
fan.
The place reeked with intellect (although the crowd would make you
wonder).
If I weren’t here, I would be in a sweaty rock club, full of
half-witted
throwbacks from 1987, not exactly somewhere you can expect intriguing
conversation.
Instead, I sit, bottled water, pen and notebook in hand, tattooed with
a crooked smile on my face awaiting bliss.
Hank’s
simple entrance is welcomed by an appreciative applause and rant begins
on a personal note. Rollins turned 40 this past February 13th, and it
seems
the old boy is feeling it set in. He’s no longer getting porn ads
in his
inbox anymore; it’s Viagra ads (for some reason, I’m not
guessing they
are needed). The man is looking slick for 40, a little gray in the hair
sure, but the muscles are tight and Iggy Pop he is not. Soon the topic
turns to U.S politics, a favourite, and we Canadians eat this up since
we probably know more about their politicians that they do. It seems
Hank
is not too impressed with George W. and has a dream scenario
of running the country. A James Brown-type backing band of Secret
Service
would usher him wherever he went to support his
‘Fuck Freedom’ platform. The topic of his travels (served
with a bit of
encouragement to do the same) was amazing, giving those in the audience
without any aspirations of seeing the world a boot
in the ass to do so.
But one of the best discussions of the night came from a night with
Kiss
in San Bernardino, CA. A show where, to his amazement, his record
company
scored 12 tickets and passes for (it was his intention to forego the
festivities
and just let his die-hard Kiss fan guitarist, Jason and the rest of the
boys to check it. But the boys talked him out of a night of sitting at
home in his underwear, bidding on Ebay to join them). I was laughing so
hard at this point, the tears streamed down my face. The
thing is, Rollins
has the incredible ability that most people in this industry lack: to
come
down to our level and draw upon experience that everyone can identify
with.
I have sat 10 row center at a Kiss show and almost had my eyebrows
singed
off, I’ve held my fist in the air in a sign of love for the
oldest band
in the metal world in the world, even when I didn’t want to.
You’ve sat
at home on a Saturday night organizing your CDs and signing
incomprehensively
at lyrics you only half know. At the end of the night after an intense
standing ovation for someone we all feel is a buddy we’ve known
for years,
everyone walked out with a look of complete satisfaction and a great
dose
of inspiration, something that often eludes too many in this day and
age.
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