That ’70s Song. [78]

It’s not an uncommon feeling for many of us to wonder if we’ve actually been born in the correct era. Perhaps century or age, but even decades can make a difference when it comes down to it. Of course, philosophically one could argue that there’s never a “right time” to be born, just as there is never a “right time” to die; convenience and practicality don’t always correspond with “right,” after all. Nonetheless, it’s difficult to restrain those modes of thought when learning about the ups and down (focusing on the ups) of other times, times other than your own, and how life could have been different. Would have been different.

I’m a subscriber to Bob Lefsetz‘s blog, the Lefsetz Letter. He’s a music industry commentator and analyst, with frequent blog posts exploring any and all matters music-industry. On a blog post earlier this week, Lefsetz tips his proverbial hat towards the late Ronnie Hammond, the former lead singer for the Atlanta Rhythm Section, who passed away on Monday. During his fond recollections of a time when music was less about making a chart-topper and more about “locking into a groove,” Lefsetz mentions something that makes me sad; not crestfallen, for it’s something I’ve already known and accepted as fact, but it’s just a gloomy reminder of what my band, as musicians set on defying the status quo, are up against.

“Today they want the songs shorter, to appeal in call-out research.  You’ve got to have a bite-sized hook.  But the tracks we liked best in the seventies were mind-benders that started one place and took us to quite another.”

There’s much to be said in the realm of negatives in regards to being a young adult in the ’70s.  Shag carpeting and polyester double-knit aside, there was quite a bit of bedlam in that decade none of us would want to have to deal with. But knowing that songs like “Free Bird” and “Stairway to Heaven,” where progression and expression and artistry thrive, were the ideal? The jealousy does begin to pique a bit.

The bite-sized hook and easy feed-ability of pop music is precisely what I deplore about most of what comes on the radio today. It’s a hop, skip and a jump away from being written by robots; utterly uncreative in the sense that it follows a strict verse/chorus/bridge formula with conventional chord changes that have already been done a million times before and topped with impotent lyrics with an often reactionary message that hardly bares repeating. I’m not the first one to notice this sort of thing (far from it), but it’s particularly frustrating to know that this is the muck that is preferred these days; this is the archetype that pop (and a growing number of rock) producers go for. Marketability. Antiseptic drivel. Spam for your ears. And THAT… that’s what makes me sad.

Of course, there’s a fine line between creating something unique which pushes progressive boundaries, and creating an clusterf**k of sound with no innate appeal and nothing anyone can grab on to. And while I’ll be the first to admit mastering that sort of thing will take time, I’m cast with a warm glow knowing that at least we’re trying. In a world where bite-sized is the ideal, we’re jet set on giving you the whole pie.