Unexploded Thoughts
"This one's for all the dead rock stars."
I don't number any of The Ramones amongst my personal heroes. But when you talk about punk rock - and that's at least a part of what I'm going to do here - you can't help but mention them. They weren't the absolute pioneers, that was the domain of The Stooges and Television and MC5, but they were there when it mattered. Without The Ramones, there would have been no Sex Pistols and no Clash. Those bands would still have existed, but they wouldn't have had the influence and the exposure that the Ramones gave them. Maybe the media-savvy Malcolm McClaren would still have found a way to make Johnny Rotten and the boys the juggernaut they became for a short while regardless. But somehow, I doubt it. That whole movement was always more influential here in the UK, but it started in the US, and it was The Ramones who were its chief ambassadors.
Punk is dead. I don't mean the music and I don't mean the attitude. There are plenty of records you can go out and buy by bands that will dispute that until their dying breath, but the fact remains that it's a long way from the cultural influence it once was. Why? Because of the way the world has changed since the late seventies. In previous screeds about politics, I've mentioned how it's my belief that traditional political labels like right and left are a thing of the past, leaving this generation to exist in something of a vacuum as far as democracy is concerned. Our voting power is stronger than it has ever been, but there is nothing to vote for and nothing to vote against. Punk was and is about rebellion, about being yourself and doing whatever it is that you want to do, regardless of what the rest of the world might think about it. While that ethos is alive and kicking, its meaning is gone.
To get it out of the way, I wouldn't have voted for John Kerry. I didn't vote for Charles Kennedy. I wouldn't call myself a Socialist because to do so in England in the year 2005 essentially means agreeing with people who can put up sensationalist posters blaming the Tsunami on Capitalism. I think those people are fucking idiots, and I believe Karl Marx would be spinning in his grave if he were aware of the feeble-minded bullshit being perpetrated in his name. I've got a little anarchy in me, but I'm not an Anarchist. I have too many beliefs to be a Nihilist. And as for the stuff on the other side of the spectrum, well, I don't give it too much thought. I think believing in God exists on the same level as believing in fairies. And to vaguely paraphrase Bill Hicks (who is one of my heroes), I think anybody who honestly claims to be right wing probably has some serious personal issues they need to deal with. In short, I don't agree with anybody that's alive and in a position to put their viewpoint across at this point in the evolution of the human race. I think every last one of them is so full of shit that they squelch when they walk. I hope that clarifies my position some.
But let's get back to the point, which is an argument that went unfinished when I did a few reviews of movies I liked and got criticised (by my own elder sibling) for not giving enough credit to hip-hop as a force for social change and a cultural backdrop to the movie La Haine. According to Catherine, that review came off as 'uncomfortable', especially when compared to the others in the same post. Now, she and I continued that argument in private both over the internet and on the phone, but we never really came to a point of compromise or agreement. That sat just fine with me. Catherine's musical poison happens to be in one area, while mine happens to be in another. But there are some correlations there that I feel cannot and should not be ignored.
You see, the thing that irks me is when my sister (and it isn't just her. Ray made a similar comment in my direction one night in a Newcastle bar a couple of years back whilst disputing my jukebox choices) refers to my taste in music as 'kiddie rock'. This because I like my music stripped down, simple, and to the point. In short, I like what tends to be referred to these days as 'punk', though a lot of it really isn't. According to these nay-sayers, the music I listen to - because it relies on simple melodies and few chords and is largely driven by emotion rather than musicianship - is for kids. Unlike hip-hop, my sister (though not Ray, I hasten to add, before he comes knocking on my door) argues, which has its roots in inner city alienation and is therefore valid and 'real' where the records I buy are but the whining of middle class, middle American males whose parents didn't buy them that pony when they were thirteen.
Clearly, there is a huge amount of generalising going on here from people who simply aren't familiar with the scene I'm into and prefer to make their judgements on the basis of one or two songs from the 'punk' bands they hear on the radio. Meanwhile, of course, they're happy to think of The Clash and The Sex Pistols as 'proper' music deserving of their attention. That's fascinating to me, because what separates The Clash from, say, Rancid is neither their musicianship nor the quality of their songwriting. It's time. The Clash were a self-confessed garage band. They were at their peak when they wrote three-chord classics like White Riot. They were a product of an era that celebrated the kind of music they were making, and when they stopped making that kind of music and fell into experimentation, they fell apart. Their time had passed, and they couldn't metamorphose into whatever they needed to be to survive. When people refer to London Calling as a classic record, they're largely referring to the fact that it came out at a time when that image and that sound were destined to be iconic. The Sex Pistols were a similar beast, except for the fact that they were, at best, a manufactured product. It isn't the Pistols that should be celebrated for their genius, it's Malcolm McClaren, a man who understood and captured a zeitgeist and made both a lot of money and cultural history. To my mind, the only difference between the Pistols and the pop acts so prevalent today is that the Pistols had an immediacy, relevance, and originality that was still new back then. In the end, though, they were still an act that was thrown together with the central idea being profit. Which isn't really very punk rock, is it?
My point is that the idea of punk rock is very much tied into those bands that had crossover appeal back in the late seventies. When that appeal was essentially decimated by the arrival of Reagan and Thatcher and the ushering in of a whole new era of politics dominated by a healthy economy that brought about a new hegemony based very much around the free market, punk went back to the underground from whence it came. Of course, if you were paying attention, you'd have noticed that the genre was alive and kicking right through the eighties and nineties, spawning bands like Reagan Youth and the Dead Kennedys, and keeping the New York and California scenes very much alive. But because it was no longer new and shocking and relevant to the mainstream, it pretty much disappeared from the radar.
I'd argue that the legacy of punk rock continues to taint the mainstream today, even if the bands that are referred to as 'punk' no longer have the same meaning and relevance as their predecessors. It only takes one listen to the artists (The Strokes, The White Stripes, The Killers, The Delays, etc.) leading the whole back-to-basics charge that's dominating today's rock scene to hear the very, very strong influence of bands like The Ramones, The Stooges, and The New York Dolls. In fact, that sound is as prevalent today as it was back then. What's different is the environment.
Which brings me to hip-hop. You see, I don't deny that hip-hop is the sound of the inner city and suburban kids of this generation. Its influence reaches much further than punk ever did, and its artists are far bigger stars. But a force for social change on a par with the punk movement? Not anymore. Hip-hop was a force for social change when it was political, when the likes of Public Enemy and NWA crossed over into the mainstream and scared the shit out of the establishment in much the same manner as The Sex Pistols did a generation before. Instead of being about class, though, this was a rift based on race, and its heroes were the likes or Huey Newton and Malcolm X and even Louis Farrakhan. This period in the late eighties and early nineties is where a comparison can be drawn with what happened a decade earlier, when punk became politicised and so was drawn into mainstream culture. Of course, hip-hop was a massive social force both before and after this time, but I'd argue that rather than being radical, it was far more supportive of the status quo.
These days, hip-hop artists are entrepreneurs almost by default. Hip-hop is political only in the sense that it inspires a generation to rise up not as revolutionaries, but as Capitalists. It celebrates the trappings of wealth and holds lifestyles based around cars, jewellery, and beautiful woman up as examples of success. The genre has been so effectively absorbed, even assimilated, by the dominant hegemony, that it's really no longer about race or about fighting The Man. It's about becoming The Man. While those in power may still mount the occasional crusade about lyrics that demean women or glamourise the 'Gangsta' lifestyle, their own ideology - when you take away the slang and the MTV style - is essentially the same. It's The American Dream gone insane. The haves live the life of kings while the have nots dream not of deposing them, but of joining them. It comes from the inner cities and it comes from the streets, but it isn't the sigh of the oppressed creature so much as it's the war cry of the envious. It isn't about equality, it's about Number One. It isn't about helping your fellow man (and it IS man), it's about treading on him on your way to the top. It's business, baby. It's Capitalism. It's money. In political terms, it's so fucking retro that it'll probably never die.
So yeah, if you ask this boy, punk and hip-hop have a lot in common, and chief amongst those similarities is the fact that - in terms of how they might, as movements, have changed the world - they're both dead. In the end, those of us who grew up even vaguely radicalised by either genre have no real right to criticise the other. For while each still has those who seek to keep the voice alive, they've both been lost as legitimate agents for political change. And that, not the arguments about which is more influential or musically valid, is the real tragedy.
I don't number any of The Ramones amongst my personal heroes. But when you talk about punk rock - and that's at least a part of what I'm going to do here - you can't help but mention them. They weren't the absolute pioneers, that was the domain of The Stooges and Television and MC5, but they were there when it mattered. Without The Ramones, there would have been no Sex Pistols and no Clash. Those bands would still have existed, but they wouldn't have had the influence and the exposure that the Ramones gave them. Maybe the media-savvy Malcolm McClaren would still have found a way to make Johnny Rotten and the boys the juggernaut they became for a short while regardless. But somehow, I doubt it. That whole movement was always more influential here in the UK, but it started in the US, and it was The Ramones who were its chief ambassadors.
Punk is dead. I don't mean the music and I don't mean the attitude. There are plenty of records you can go out and buy by bands that will dispute that until their dying breath, but the fact remains that it's a long way from the cultural influence it once was. Why? Because of the way the world has changed since the late seventies. In previous screeds about politics, I've mentioned how it's my belief that traditional political labels like right and left are a thing of the past, leaving this generation to exist in something of a vacuum as far as democracy is concerned. Our voting power is stronger than it has ever been, but there is nothing to vote for and nothing to vote against. Punk was and is about rebellion, about being yourself and doing whatever it is that you want to do, regardless of what the rest of the world might think about it. While that ethos is alive and kicking, its meaning is gone.
To get it out of the way, I wouldn't have voted for John Kerry. I didn't vote for Charles Kennedy. I wouldn't call myself a Socialist because to do so in England in the year 2005 essentially means agreeing with people who can put up sensationalist posters blaming the Tsunami on Capitalism. I think those people are fucking idiots, and I believe Karl Marx would be spinning in his grave if he were aware of the feeble-minded bullshit being perpetrated in his name. I've got a little anarchy in me, but I'm not an Anarchist. I have too many beliefs to be a Nihilist. And as for the stuff on the other side of the spectrum, well, I don't give it too much thought. I think believing in God exists on the same level as believing in fairies. And to vaguely paraphrase Bill Hicks (who is one of my heroes), I think anybody who honestly claims to be right wing probably has some serious personal issues they need to deal with. In short, I don't agree with anybody that's alive and in a position to put their viewpoint across at this point in the evolution of the human race. I think every last one of them is so full of shit that they squelch when they walk. I hope that clarifies my position some.
But let's get back to the point, which is an argument that went unfinished when I did a few reviews of movies I liked and got criticised (by my own elder sibling) for not giving enough credit to hip-hop as a force for social change and a cultural backdrop to the movie La Haine. According to Catherine, that review came off as 'uncomfortable', especially when compared to the others in the same post. Now, she and I continued that argument in private both over the internet and on the phone, but we never really came to a point of compromise or agreement. That sat just fine with me. Catherine's musical poison happens to be in one area, while mine happens to be in another. But there are some correlations there that I feel cannot and should not be ignored.
You see, the thing that irks me is when my sister (and it isn't just her. Ray made a similar comment in my direction one night in a Newcastle bar a couple of years back whilst disputing my jukebox choices) refers to my taste in music as 'kiddie rock'. This because I like my music stripped down, simple, and to the point. In short, I like what tends to be referred to these days as 'punk', though a lot of it really isn't. According to these nay-sayers, the music I listen to - because it relies on simple melodies and few chords and is largely driven by emotion rather than musicianship - is for kids. Unlike hip-hop, my sister (though not Ray, I hasten to add, before he comes knocking on my door) argues, which has its roots in inner city alienation and is therefore valid and 'real' where the records I buy are but the whining of middle class, middle American males whose parents didn't buy them that pony when they were thirteen.
Clearly, there is a huge amount of generalising going on here from people who simply aren't familiar with the scene I'm into and prefer to make their judgements on the basis of one or two songs from the 'punk' bands they hear on the radio. Meanwhile, of course, they're happy to think of The Clash and The Sex Pistols as 'proper' music deserving of their attention. That's fascinating to me, because what separates The Clash from, say, Rancid is neither their musicianship nor the quality of their songwriting. It's time. The Clash were a self-confessed garage band. They were at their peak when they wrote three-chord classics like White Riot. They were a product of an era that celebrated the kind of music they were making, and when they stopped making that kind of music and fell into experimentation, they fell apart. Their time had passed, and they couldn't metamorphose into whatever they needed to be to survive. When people refer to London Calling as a classic record, they're largely referring to the fact that it came out at a time when that image and that sound were destined to be iconic. The Sex Pistols were a similar beast, except for the fact that they were, at best, a manufactured product. It isn't the Pistols that should be celebrated for their genius, it's Malcolm McClaren, a man who understood and captured a zeitgeist and made both a lot of money and cultural history. To my mind, the only difference between the Pistols and the pop acts so prevalent today is that the Pistols had an immediacy, relevance, and originality that was still new back then. In the end, though, they were still an act that was thrown together with the central idea being profit. Which isn't really very punk rock, is it?
My point is that the idea of punk rock is very much tied into those bands that had crossover appeal back in the late seventies. When that appeal was essentially decimated by the arrival of Reagan and Thatcher and the ushering in of a whole new era of politics dominated by a healthy economy that brought about a new hegemony based very much around the free market, punk went back to the underground from whence it came. Of course, if you were paying attention, you'd have noticed that the genre was alive and kicking right through the eighties and nineties, spawning bands like Reagan Youth and the Dead Kennedys, and keeping the New York and California scenes very much alive. But because it was no longer new and shocking and relevant to the mainstream, it pretty much disappeared from the radar.
I'd argue that the legacy of punk rock continues to taint the mainstream today, even if the bands that are referred to as 'punk' no longer have the same meaning and relevance as their predecessors. It only takes one listen to the artists (The Strokes, The White Stripes, The Killers, The Delays, etc.) leading the whole back-to-basics charge that's dominating today's rock scene to hear the very, very strong influence of bands like The Ramones, The Stooges, and The New York Dolls. In fact, that sound is as prevalent today as it was back then. What's different is the environment.
Which brings me to hip-hop. You see, I don't deny that hip-hop is the sound of the inner city and suburban kids of this generation. Its influence reaches much further than punk ever did, and its artists are far bigger stars. But a force for social change on a par with the punk movement? Not anymore. Hip-hop was a force for social change when it was political, when the likes of Public Enemy and NWA crossed over into the mainstream and scared the shit out of the establishment in much the same manner as The Sex Pistols did a generation before. Instead of being about class, though, this was a rift based on race, and its heroes were the likes or Huey Newton and Malcolm X and even Louis Farrakhan. This period in the late eighties and early nineties is where a comparison can be drawn with what happened a decade earlier, when punk became politicised and so was drawn into mainstream culture. Of course, hip-hop was a massive social force both before and after this time, but I'd argue that rather than being radical, it was far more supportive of the status quo.
These days, hip-hop artists are entrepreneurs almost by default. Hip-hop is political only in the sense that it inspires a generation to rise up not as revolutionaries, but as Capitalists. It celebrates the trappings of wealth and holds lifestyles based around cars, jewellery, and beautiful woman up as examples of success. The genre has been so effectively absorbed, even assimilated, by the dominant hegemony, that it's really no longer about race or about fighting The Man. It's about becoming The Man. While those in power may still mount the occasional crusade about lyrics that demean women or glamourise the 'Gangsta' lifestyle, their own ideology - when you take away the slang and the MTV style - is essentially the same. It's The American Dream gone insane. The haves live the life of kings while the have nots dream not of deposing them, but of joining them. It comes from the inner cities and it comes from the streets, but it isn't the sigh of the oppressed creature so much as it's the war cry of the envious. It isn't about equality, it's about Number One. It isn't about helping your fellow man (and it IS man), it's about treading on him on your way to the top. It's business, baby. It's Capitalism. It's money. In political terms, it's so fucking retro that it'll probably never die.
So yeah, if you ask this boy, punk and hip-hop have a lot in common, and chief amongst those similarities is the fact that - in terms of how they might, as movements, have changed the world - they're both dead. In the end, those of us who grew up even vaguely radicalised by either genre have no real right to criticise the other. For while each still has those who seek to keep the voice alive, they've both been lost as legitimate agents for political change. And that, not the arguments about which is more influential or musically valid, is the real tragedy.
posted by Michael at 2:25 PM
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