Eliot Sherman: Fighting through the dark age of music

Here's the problem with music today: it sucks. No really, think about it. When was the last time you heard something really innovative? When was the last time you flipped on the radio and thought, "Wow, I couldn't do that." What concerns me most about today's music is the death of the album. There have always been one-hit records, albums with only one or two songs that sell it, but they have never dominated the music scene like they do now. I read somewhere that Jennifer Lopez, she of the insured buttocks, required 11 people to write her new hit about how she's still from the block (not, of course, to be confused with her last hit about how she's still real. My one semester of psych tells me she might be overcompensating for something...). Keep in mind that this tune had about seven different words in it, and they all rhyme with block. We must also not confuse this with another successful female musician, Avril Lavigne (careful -- she's Canadian), who is being hailed nationwide by grateful mothers as the anti-Britney because she has the decency to only show off half of her stomach in public. What's that I hear? Could it be generations of real musicians rolling in their graves? And even some of the ones who are still rocking are questionable -- Pete Townshend was recently arrested in connection with child pornography. He says he was doing "research." I will never listen to "The Kids Are Alright" the same way again. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. It is unsurprising that this current standard whereby multiple writers, producers, engineers, mixers and backup musicians collaborate on every CD seems to garner overproduced garbage. Gone are the days when Black Sabbath walked (or more likely, staggered) into a Birmingham recording studio to lay down its self-titled debut in 12 hours for $800. Even the underground, anti-mainstream movements are weak. Instead of looking for creativity, fans derive legitimacy by classifying everything further and further into more vague subgenres. This leads to all sorts of interesting things, like fights about whether or not Jimmy Eat World can still be emo if it's on Top 40 radio. But then again, if I were really an emo kid, I wouldn't fight about it so much as mumble my opinion and then cry when someone disagreed with me. Even the venerable hip-hop industry has been corporatized. The last time I heard something "fresh," I had to go find Massive Attack's remix of Mos Def from his Urban Thermodynamics days. Whatever happened to the idea of music with a social conscience? Early rock and roll may have been dominated by fast cars and surfboards, but it evolved, musically and lyrically. When do we get past the "I'm more fly/hard/legit/rich than you are" stage? Of course, in every dark age, there are exceptions. U2 got me through the '80s, because while everyone was grooving on trash-synth, it was putting out real albums. So was Metallica. The opening chords of "Smells Like Teen Spirit" are widely thought to have heralded the end of hair rock, which people seem strangely nostalgic for. Britpop came and went ever so briefly, and then hip-hop and the subsequent God-awful rock/rap hybrid acts afforded white kids in the suburbs less guilt over tuning in. While I find most of what passes for hip-hop these days pretty weak, the Roots are always a cut above the rest. Common's pretty good. But barring a musical rejuvenation, there aren't enough quality acts to truly allow hip-hop to define the next decade. So what does the future hold? As much as I hate the idea, it could be this "trance" music. I know about its existence because it happens to be an obsession of every roommate I've ever had. For those of you unaware, trance is a type of techno, a series of interminable computer-generated noises that continue for un-Godly lengths of time. This whirling nightmare of pretention is appreciated by the "rave" culture, so I guess if I went out and consumed massive amounts of Ecstasy and Red Bull and stayed awake for three days, I might appreciate it more. But I refuse to let this revolution happen. And if you feel the same way, I implore you -- buy a second-hand guitar; chances are, you'll go far. Start a band. It's fun. The opposite sex will like you better. And believe me, it's not as hard as you think it is. Also, watch High Fidelity over and over again. Do it for your sake or do it for mine. Because if I have to endure another J-Lo tune about maintaining street credibility throughout a series of celebrity boyfriends, expensive cars and a $20-million ass, I may just lose my mind for real this time. Eliot Sherman is a sophomore from Philadelphia, Pa.

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