H. L. Mencken once wrote (yes, this is the most pretentious way imaginable to start an essay, but whatever), in an article dismissing jazz music, that he found the music to be a series of unpleasant sounds loosely strung together. I felt what he must have felt when I listen to some of these new-ish college rock bands. Overly literate lyrics coupled with suspect melodies and exotic (read unpleasant to listen to) instrumentation combine together for one ultimate explosion of suckiness. Were he still around, Mencken would certainly disapprove.
I suppose that I just don't care too much about the lyrics of a song, compared to some far more important elements--like, you know, the sound! I don't apologize for liking music that appeals to me sonically and for disliking that music which does not stroke me on that level. This is not some aberration--it is actually quite normal and evolutionary. You see, music is primarily a sonic medium, not a written medium, and the appeal of music is derived not from the words, which are at best not mind-numbing, but rather from the sound itself. Take that old chestnut, early rock 'n roll. In retrospect, Elvis and The Beatles were hardly revolutionary--in fact, their message was downright conservative, when you take it at face value. But the sound, that was something different, something enticing to young people, something unfamiliar and scary to authority figures everywhere. The pattern has considered apace since then, as every generation has looked for the new sound, the new rebellion. This took on even greater currency in the Soviet bloc during the Cold War--rock and roll was forbidden, a sign of vitality and excitement in cultures that were steeped in tepidity. The words mattered not at all--just the energy and excitement generated by underground broadcasts of rock and jazz music was enough to cut through the propaganda transmitted by the communists and give many behind the Iron Curtain a more favorable sense of America. It was the sound that mattered, not the words, which these people couldn't understand anyway. And if anyone thinks I'm overestimating the influence of rock on the fall of the Soviet Union, think again--it has always been that bold, exciting new sound that has brought about new rebellion. Of course, rebellion is now used to sell soft drinks, so one really wonders how much currency it still really has.
The idea I find most objectionable--essentially, that it's a group's songwriting that matters rather than, you know, all that music and whatnot--is based on a false dichotomy. There is a notion that valuing sound over lyrics is like valuing style over substance. The error here is to assume that style and substance are distinct--indeed, as Flaubert (the Madame Bovary dude) wrote, style itself can be an absolute way of viewing the world, too. The idea that an idea or emotion can only be conveyed through words is a puzzling one, considering that popular music for several centuries came largely without words. Nobody asked Mozart, "Hey, love that 40th Symphony. Can you come up with some lyrics for that?" In fact, being able to convey emotions without words is probably more impressive than doing so with words--with words it's too easy. With music, real virtuosity is required.
All of this is not to slag off the written word, and I'm not saying that all music ought to be instrumental from this day forward. I don't believe these things and I'm not advocating them. However, it seems peculiar to me that songwriting is seen as so important when the truth is that the vast majority of it is terrible when considered as prose. Every once in a while a musician will be able to transcend the popular music format and create some truly important art--Bob Dylan is one such artist, although inconsistent and often overrated--but compared to, say, wordsmiths like Dryden, Wordsworth, and Coleridge, there is not a single current "artist" who makes the grade. Songwriting is low-rent poetry, hack prose that is generally meant to explore some emotion (predominantly love) with great shallowness. Those who realize this tend to be successful at the game. It is all just a function of the limitations of the form, which have actually gotten worse over the past decade--the album has essentially departed, and it's all about singles now. Being able to express a compelling idea or emotion in three to four minutes is really difficult, and the rate that music professionals have to pump out albums makes that sort of sophistication and thoughtfulness difficult to find.
It might be easy to just shrug off modern music altogether, but there is something powerful to it. My theory is that it is evolutionary--we're just wired to be attracted to enthralling rhythms and melodies. Why else do primitive tribes develop musical instruments before a written language? A captivating song does not really work along an intellectual level, but rather on a deeper, primordial level, one that existed before language and conscious thought. That's its power, but also its weakness. That is why I tend to be suspicious of "great songwriters." Sting is, after all, a terrific songwriter, perhaps one of the best. He has no small amount of musical talent, either--The Police are one of the greatest bands in history, after all. I will concede that an evocative lyric here or there certainly improves music, and really stupid lyrics can hinder its enjoyment. However, Sting has rather become the apotheosis of my argument--he seems to care only about being a capital-A artist with Something To Say, and it has made the man intolerable. Great songwriters almost always tend to forget what it is that makes a great song, and it is never the writing--something that sounds like shit but has amazing lyrics is simply not going to fly. We're back to the false dichotomy again.
All in all, expecting a song to actually, you know, sound good is not a bad thing, and an individual should not be punished for expecting such a thing. Such is my thesis. Good day.
