Popular Music and Survival of the Fittest

Long before I ever became an academician I loved rock n’ roll-from the crunch and sizzle of Jimmy Page guitar riff to the soul-soothing wail of Aretha Franklin.  But most of all, I loved the songs themselves, from love ballads to R&B grooves to punk rock political anthems.  And I’ve spent decades building my music catalogue, both to enjoy the music and to get a better grasp on the evolution of this art form.

It wasn’t long ago that to call rock music an “art form” was a howler.  And it has only been very recently that study of the popular arts generally has become a legitimate field of scholarly inquiry.  Happily, today there are several academic journals devoted entirely to the subject, and even the most prestigious aesthetics journals routinely feature treatments of rock music.  Finally scholars have realized what should have been obvious all along.  The study of popular culture is important because it provides us with insights in a wide range of subjects: art, anthropology, psychology, sociology, cultural studies, and philosophy, to name a few.  And study of the history of popular culture is significant for the same reason that any historical inquiry is significant.  It provides us with a better understanding of human nature and society.

Perhaps the reason some have doubted the significance of rock music as an art form is that, frankly, much of it is bad.  And, indeed, radio stations play mostly tripe all day long.  They always have, even in rock’s “golden age.”  But something like this has been true of all art in every age.  Much of the music made in the 17th, 18th or 19th centuries was no doubt very bad, but that music has been deservedly lost to time while the best has survived-as it always has, standing the test of time precisely because it is the best.  What we call “classical” music is simply the best music of bygone eras.  And, yes, some music from our era will survive for centuries as well.  They are not royal courtiers anymore, but include film soundtrack composers (e.g. John Williams and Danny Elfman), singer-songwriters (e.g. Bob Dylan and Morrissey), and rock bands (e.g., the Beatles and Radiohead).

Students of popular music face a challenge that students of classical music do not.  History has yet to weed out the weak specimens among the songs of our time, so we must do the extra work to discern which songs will likely stand the test of time because of their merits.  As in the biological world, it comes down to survival of the fittest.  And contemporary music critics are sometimes no more able to predict which songs will last than a biologist is able to predict the future evolutionary path of organisms.  As Bob Dylan has said, “You have to stand on your tiptoes to see the future.”

But the sheer difficulty of the task should not discourage us.  There are, after all, some basic aesthetic standards when it comes to assessing rock music, just as there are for any art genre.  And we have already seen some “natural selection” of rock songs already, if we go back to the 1950s, 60s, and even the 70s.  There are songs that we already call “classics,” from Chuck Berry’s “Roll Over Beethoven” to Led Zeppelin’s “Stairway to Heaven.”

In future posts, I will discuss a variety of popular musical artists and songs, some of which have risen to the level of “classic” and some which I suspect will do so in time.  I will also offer some of my own “best of” lists.  The first of these will be the twenty best albums of the rock era, which I will post in just a few days.  So stay tuned, rock fans.

Reflections on the Price of Gas

I would have never thought that the experience of pumping gas would be an occasion for deep personal reflection.  But as the weeks of high gas prices have dragged on, the Spiegel grocery cart has been “freed” of more and more luxury items.  (My friends Ben and Jerry feel quite abandoned and the kids have noticed that their cereal now comes in “dog food bags” rather than the more traditional and chic toy filled box.)  I have been surprised to see how something so seemingly mundane can reveal a great deal about myself and the way I see the world.  As a political science grad and concerned citizen, I have pondered the various theories for relief.  I don’t want to reveal my ignorance by putting forth any concrete solutions to this eco-political quandary.  At times, it has made me feel so small and helpless I have been tempted to humbly kneel down before the almighty gas station and admit defeat.  On other occasions, I feel disposed to raise my fist in defiance, pack up the van and move to the country, build a windmill and thumb my nose at society in general.  (These moods could be brought on by watching too much of “The Wilderness Family” with my kids.)

What I have noticed most, though, is my own sense of entitlement and my frustration at having limits placed on my freedoms.  Jim and I certainly have never been wealthy and have gone through seasons of lean and leaner, but recently, with each new trip to the pump, I find that portion of our budget dedicated to gas growing resentfully larger.  As a matter of logic, that portion of our budget dedicated to other things grows smaller.  (Again my friends Ben and Jerry come to mind-after all, they have bills to pay as well).  We aren’t what you would call big spenders but as trips out to dinner and babysitting fall to the wayside, I have been shocked by the depth of my bitterness.

When I finally stopped to analyze the true source of my grumbling, I realized I was squirming under this new limitation of movement, desperate to go wherever the heck I pleased.  In this country we are simply not accustomed to limiting our mobility.  Miles of interstate, relatively well-maintained, beckon us to new and exciting destinations.  There are times when I am so weary of this house that a trip to the pet store seems like a vacation.  There is an upside to being forced to retrench (a word I have always wanted to use, thank you Jane Austen and Persuasion).  It has given me an opportunity to test my ingenuity.  Need new sleeveless shirts for watching the kids in the yard?  Just cut off the sleeves of your stretched out old ones.  Nothing to eat for dinner?  Make breakfast-pancakes taste good any time of day.  But if prices continue to rise and you happen upon an abandoned house where the Spiegels used to live, just head for the open country and look for the windmill.