CHRIS C: We have been doing this long enough that you would think I should have run out of literary ways of expounding on the fragility of time, and how our thinking shouldn't be changed by whether we're looking forward or backward, yet it is. You would think I've written enough words about just about everything.... and you'd probably be right, but I'm still hanging in there and doing my thing. It can be a bit awkward to be dividing up art by a solar cycle, but it does make our job easier sometimes (although I seem to be one of the few people who never remembers what year a song or album came out), and it gives us something to talk about. Is the curse of the writer not having anything to say, or never running out of words?
Regardless, this trip around the sun has been an interesting one, partly because of how uninteresting it was. You and I mentioned to each other throughout the year that this was shaping up to be a weaker year, as well as one without a dominant theme or trend that at least stood out as something worth noting. That did mostly hold true. The biggest thing I can take from 2019 is that there wasn't much to take away from it. There were enough good records I'm not going to say I was unhappy, but I didn't hear much I expect to stick with me for years to come, and there wasn't any new idea out there that I can say is going to be a keystone moment for where we are headed. The year was just a year. It was also the first time I've started to feel the apathy of age and attrition, which we can get into if you want. That was exacerbated by the odd quirks of scheduling, where everything I liked came in rushes as the beginning and end of the year, and the middle was a long slog through the wastelands.
Well, that's not entirely true, but the highlight of my musical year was only tangentially related to music, and had more to do with what this job has brought into my life. Whether anyone reads my words, or respects my opinions, writing about music has brought me something I wouldn't have had otherwise, and am beyond lucky and thankful for. We can talk about that later, though.
I want to start out by asking you a question I thought about through most of the summer; am I the only one for whom this was the worst year ever for the 'big names'? Slipknot, Tool, Opeth, Blind Guardian, etc. I can keep going, but there wasn't a single 'big name' record I thought was worthy of that kind of status this year. People ask often who is going to be the next wave of headliners, and this year's entries tell me the answer is, "No one".
So where do you want to start?
D.M: Let me start here - I distinctly remember saying at the six-month mark that I didn't want to talk too much about my leading album contenders, because I liked them, but hoped they'd be overtaken by other albums in the second half of the year. Well, they weren't. So, shit. And I say all that to say that I agree with you that from a musical standpoint, 2019 was nothing particularly impressive. As I blast through the piles of promos we get each year, the ones that merit listening to in completion (for there are scads that don't,) get divided into three basic categories: 'Of Interest,' 'Fine, But Not Great,' and 'Nope.' And I readily admit that the latter two lists seemed to grow in leaps and bounds this year in relation to the former. I am nearly caught up in my listening, and as we start to assemble our final top ten lists for the year, I find I only have sixteen contenders for the top ten, which feels light. I'm also not sure what to make of the fact that of the sixteen, only five are from artists I wasn't familiar with before. That seems like a small number, but I suppose out of a limited number of contenders, it's a decent percentage.
You're right in that it wasn't a good year for the big names. Even among the medium names, in which most heavy music tends to live, the batting average wasn't great. Lacuna Coil's album was firmly ensconced in the 'Fine, But Not Great' category, and there were equally shrug-worthy efforts from Airbourne (I will always have a soft spot for Airbourne, but they may have shown us all they have,) Kobra & The Lotus and Jinjer. A couple caveats: you liked the new Dragonforce, and while it certainly has some bright spots, it didn't totally resonate for me. I wasn't a fan of the new As I Lay Dying, though I suspect it may be one of those albums that people will love and simply wasn't for me. And then there was Tengger Cavalry, who released what was for me this year's greatest letdown. They have almost entirely left behind the unique and colloquial elements that made them such a banner headline in exchange for a straight-ahead metal approach. The fact that Nature Ganganbaigal is now using his throat singing solely to belt out a death metal vocal styling is disappointing beyond measure.
I also found that on a macro level, I think I wanted heavy music to have something more to say. The heyday of the genre was in some part a product of the Cold War, and so in many ways, metal was actually a spiritual successor to folk music - a protest wrapped in song. Given the current divisiveness, I had hoped for something akin to a new and poignant Rage Against the Machine or Bad Brains or even Megadeth (back when Dave had semi-intelligent things to say.) Instead, it seems metal has opted to either comment in the most heavy-handed, unambiguous way, lacking completely in subtlety or craft, or chooses not to comment at all. Thematically, we've turned inward - much of the genre is now concerned with the struggle within. There's merit in that, especially in a time when there are those who wish to dictate to others how individuality can be defined (which is ingloriously stupid and on the wrong side of history,) and perhaps that's where we're at a society; the struggle to understand ourselves has become paramount. Still, I hoped for something a little broader reaching. Tangentially, The Economist recently ran a long analysis of the musical tastes of different voting groups, and noticed in many cases that swing voters tend to favor heavy metal, which is compelling reading, although it did little to address my original socio-economic concern, which remains 'why does metal fandom seem to propagate in the lower-middle and lower class?'
I'd also like to briefly address "Old Town Road," which according to Billboard is now the longest-running #1 single in chart history. There are two places in which I openly and gleefully root for chaos and disorder. The first is college football, because one of these days Wofford is going to beat Clemson, and I hope I'm alive to see it, and any good upset or top team taking an L makes for an interesting narrative as we hurtle toward the College Football Playoff. The second is in the terminally over-wrought and self-aggrandizing world of musical genre classifications. As a musical culture, we've become so certain of our definitions of music that they are definitions unto themselves, i.e, 'metal' is 'metal,' 'blues' is 'blues,' etc. We've then taken those and broken them down into constituent elements and only occasionally bothered to combine the resulting atomic particles, which has led to ridiculous hyper-genrification, a term you and I have coined. So when "Old Town Road" comes along, and there is immediate rancor surrounding what it even is and how it should be narrowly defined, I am joyful. Country and rap and pop all seem to have entrenched themselves in their fortresses and are pulling hard on the rope to call the song their own, while failing to realize that it actually is the synthesis of all three. In this way, while you can make the case that the song is little more than a two-minute demo, it is a genius composition that has risen to improbable fame by attracting multiple audiences in an era where that's not supposed to be possible. Our musical attention spans are short; good for this 'country rap' single to break those barriers and transcend. (And good for Billy Ray Cyrus to add something to his legacy beyond 'the "Achy Breaky Heart," guy and "father of that miscreant.") I thoroughly enjoy "Old Town Road" turning people in knots. It's the most fun I've had with a similar occurrence since everyone 'knew' that Tim Tebow was not a good NFL quarterback, but had to grudgingly cope with the fact that he kept winning games.
Go!
CHRIS C: Oh yes, there are scads of albums we get send that I never so much as read beyond the title of. I have a couple of house rules for my own listening and sorting. 1) No more black metal. I tried a few over the years, but it's not worth the aggravation. 2) No death metal unless I already know the band/members. I like so little of it that unless there is some reason for me to think it will buck the trend, I'm not bothering. 3) If anything in the title, genre, or cover actively annoys me, it's a hard pass. So no bodily functions in names. Nope. Once we get through that process, the listening does fall into your three categories. There are the obviously great and the obviously bad, and also a huge selection of records that are good, and enjoyable, that I will never remember if I don't see a prompt putting it back into my head. I talked about it on my podcast, but I'll reiterate it here; there isn't enough time in the day to keep going back to and trying to absorb albums that don't give me an immediate reason to. And I say that as someone with far less a social life than you. (Side note: Talking about years, am I the only one who really doesn't remember what year every song and album came out in? I hear people rattling off dates, or rattling off albums for a year, and it never seemed like important information to memorize.)
Oh, you brought up something I wasn't planning to, but that I have very strong feelings about. As I Lay Dying. Where to even start? I will admit that I did give the record one listen, and it was fine for what it was. I thought for metalcore Killswitch Engage was much better, but that's not my issue. I'm truly struggling with questions about the very nature of that band. I know the members have forgiven Tim Lambesis, and it seems a lot of fans have as well, but I can't do it. Not that I was ever a fan, or ever thought about him for even a second before, but I find the band's comeback to be completely distasteful. Very little has been done to show us that he is a changed man, but even if he puts on a regretful act, I'm still left with serious existential questions. Can people truly change? Obviously, they can to a degree, but I am skeptical that someone who tried to orchestrate a murder can ever redeem himself. No matter how much his behavior changes, he is still the person capable of sitting down and plotting a murder. Not an in-the-moment mistake, but a long gestating plan with countless opportunities to make the right decision. Perhaps I would feel better if the reactivated band was making some sort of apology, but they seem to be taking the attitude that they are entitled to continued support, and entitled to forgiveness for Tim. I don't buy it. They can certainly get back together, and they can certainly continue their careers, but I don't have to sit back and pretend it's not morally objectionable. There is a point where the artist can't be separated from the art, and the music of bad people becomes unlistenable, isn't there?
I do understand why bands are avoiding a lot of overtly political commentary. The world is so fractured now that saying anything has a very strong likelihood of alienating half of your fans in a way that leads them not to show up to concerts. Plus, give how many of the bands we cover are more popular in Europe, I'm not sure a heavy dose of American politics is going to work. We all need breaks from politics, not even more of it. But let's be honest here; metal lyrics have been disappointing for a very long time. I have grown incredibly tired of the usual tropes that exude the machismo of metal. I'm not Nordic, so Viking themes aren't working on me. I'm not a fantasy fan, so all the music about dragons and swords is boring. And there's always the old stand-by of drinking. I wrote in one review this year I was worried about a band's health, since they had multiple songs about drinking on their album. Not exactly deep stuff.
This also brings to mind how I heard a YouTube music critic making the argument that Warrant's "Cherry Pie" is actually a song about menstruation, given the ways you can describe a cherry pie. That made me wonder if "Pour Some Sugar On Me" is about another liquidy fetish. Now I have even more of an excuse to avoid that song like the plague. God, I hate Def Leppard. Nine arms and sucks, indeed.
I saw that same study, and I'm not surprised by it. It seems obvious that country fans would already be Republicans, and hip-hop fans mostly Democrats, so that would leave the swing votes down to rock, pop, and jazz. Jazz fans could fall into the category of 'elites', so they're out. That leaves rock and pop, where the lack of diversity is apparent. It does strike us as being slightly counter-intuitive, though, that rock and metal are actually conservative genres, given what you mentioned about the Cold War roots of it. Kid Rock got more popular when he transitioned from being a pimp to a cowboy. Maybe we should have taken note of that. As for your theory, it requires far more thought and explanation than I can give it here, but my basic supposition is that rock and metal best embody the anger and frustration of the lower classes, especially of the suburban variety that resents the 'big city'. I live in an area that has considerable animosity for New York City, so I sort of see how it happens. Maybe there's some of that old Kids In The Hall sketch in here, with the "men were men and women were women..." commentary, minus the irony.
Allow me to claim some ignorance here. I have not yet heard "Old Town Road" in full, nor do I particularly want to. I was rather shocked that its reign lasted as long as it did, though. Not so much for the song, but that anything can endure that long with so many songs being released all the time. It does appear to be a sign that the key to success is reaching across the aisles, although I hesitate to say that, because I also don't want to have more rock bands adding in hip-hop verses for that purpose. I suppose I am one of those people in a bit of a silo, wanting to hear what I want to hear. But I will say this; I like "Wrecking Ball" more than "Achy Breaky Heart". Miley has one on the tally board, Billy Ray has zero.
Ok, more unlikely comeback this year; Billy Ray Cyrus being on another #1 song, or Hootie & The Blowfish making a new record?
D.M: I hate to be the one to say this, you may be the only person who's not good with musical dates and times. I should perhaps say this instead - speaking for myself, that's sort of my bread and butter. I think it has something to do with the possessiveness of one's own musical taste. Particularly in the more obscure genres, we begin to tie our burgeoning fandom into the finer details of ourselves. Of all the arts, music is the one with the closest ties to emotion, and not just in relation to specific incidents. Many people (not typically me, but we'll talk about that later,) tie music into their emotional state - they have music that makes them happy, music that helps them when they're sad, etc. To have such a close tie to those states, it becomes normal to obsess over the details of it. In my particular case, because I am largely the only person in my social circle who readily listens to aggressive music, I feel therefore honor bound to swamp people with the details when they show even the barest hint of interest (my enthusiasm for the information probably drives them away, I need to work on that.)
Let me add a criteria to your list - definitely no bands with bodily functions in the title, and any band with an intentionally unintelligible logo I automatically greet with a healthy skepticism. It's not grounds for an automatic dismissal, but I don't know that I've yet fallen in love with any band who employs the tactic.
It's hard not to be cynical about As I Lay Dying, because it's difficult to judge what their intentions are. Forgiveness is among the most important Christian traits, so I get that the band can forgive Lambesis his transgressions and try to move forward in their relationship. Nothing untoward there. As you say though, Lambesis hasn't really shown anything approaching true remorse, and indeed, his first interview from prison however may years ago was practically a display of defiance. Hard to root for that guy. And clearly, we're not making Christian metal anymore, which is also fine, that's the band's prerogative. All of these things taken in sum however, makes it difficult to know what to do with the band. It would be less suspicious if Wovenwar had been topping the charts in the sales, but even though they were every bit as talented as their forerunner, the prestige just didn't follow. So now, we have a reunited band led by a person of a questionable motivations that has sacrificed their previous mantra for the sake of this comeback. I truly hope this is building toward something other than a second crack at commercial success, but my gut just won't let that idea go.
As to your second question about the music of horrible people being unlistenable....well, I still cringe when I hear people talk about the accomplishments of Burzum, so there you go. He's got to be the poster child of reprehensible human beings making commercially successful music, doesn't he?
I'm not Norse, either, but I think metal is a little like St. Partrick's Day, when we're all a little Irish; it makes you a little Norse. I mean, hell, I've read The Prose Edda. Anyway, I'm going to tie together a couple of points and try to speak way above my pay grade. You brought up something interesting about the suburban mentality, the working classes and the degradation of metal lyrics. Maybe it's all related. Metal came to fame in the Cold War, and once that ended, perhaps the generation that came up with it didn't want that kind of struggle in their music anymore. I briefly referenced folk music in the late sixties - similar to how that trend faded somewhat in the aftermath of the Vietnam Conflict, maybe the impetus to continue the march didn't exist for metal anymore. Carrying that forward, metal is a lot of things to a lot of people, but much like hockey, metal is guilty of one major failing, which is that it is a genre overly dedicated to the images and presentation of its past. And so the genre it still beholden to the generation that came before, and now those same Cold War kids are suburban parents, who likely still feel like they won the greatest battle of their social lives, and their focus has shifted to their day to day concerns. And of top of that, perhaps I'm prescribing to metal causes that it is not necessarily as much a fan of in full-throat. It certainly seems to me that a genre of outcasts and working classes would be in favor of inclusion for all and closure of the income gap, but maybe not. Those things aren't as glaringly unifying or immediate as the cause of "please don't nuke everything." Perhaps I am both overestimating the ease of writing compelling music about the nuanced current state of affairs and underestimating the fear of Mutually Assured Destruction.
I'm gonna still lean toward Billy Ray being a larger surprise, only because he seemed relegated to the pit of despair that's reserved for anyone who's a one-hit wonder based on a choreographed dance. I was ready to lump him in with Lou Bega, Los Del Rio, Cupid and Mr. C the Slide Man. The Hootie and the Blowfish album was, to me, slightly more believable only because the Blowfish hadn't really been up to anything of note, and I'm sure the chance to make some real money again came as a welcome surprise.
Any other surprises for you this year?
CHRIS C: You don't have to say it regretfully. Remembering dates isn't my forte. I know it isn't. I simply never cared years ago to remember if *generic pop song #478* came out in 1993 or 1994. At the time, when I could have been training myself to remember such things, it didn't seem important. Little did I know I would wind up spending so much time talking about music!
You're right that music is far more personal than other forms of art, and we do hold them closer. Granted, I don't travel in art circles, but I've never heard many people talk about paintings the way they do albums, looking at them repeatedly for feelings and inspirations. I'm sure it happens, but it's a much smaller phenomenon. I've had a print of "The Scream" hanging on my wall for probably twenty years, and I've never given any thought to what it means to me. Albums, though, often get that kind of thought. However, I would certainly separate albums into two piles; those that are meaningful, and those that are disposable. In a given year, there are only a small handful of records (usually smaller than my top ten) that have such an impact on me as a person. There are records I really like that have no reflection on my personality, but then there are the ones in which I can find myself.
You brought it up, and we have talked about it privately, but you and I are on opposite ends of this conversation. I think I used the terms 'internalist' and 'externalist' to describe us, and how we relate to music. Some people use music to change their mood, others to amplify it. There are certainly albums I won't listen to if I'm not in the right state of mind for them. This happens, I believe, because music is the most human form of art. Hearing a voice, and all the nuance it carries from millions of years of evolution, is entirely different than trying to decipher a few strokes of a brush, or a chiseled out form. There is simply more emotional information carried in a deep song than we can get from any other art. I wish I could explain why certain voices and performances have the effect they do, but I have yet to figure out the words for that task.
Regarding the bands with unintelligible logos; it's just stupid, isn't it? If someone sees it on a t-shirt or an album cover and they can't tell what it is, how does that generate interest? A logo you can't identity isn't a logo; it's a mistake.
As I have spent more time lately scouring the music news for material to comment on, I have become rather depressed by the business, and how much of the seedy stuff now gets out to the public. In some ways, it was better when we didn't know the inner workings of bands and labels, or the personal lives of the musicians. We would have known about Lambesis the criminal, but there are so many others who have moral failings I didn't have to know about, and whose existence does impact how I feel about their music, or at least how willing I am to give them a chance the next time around. Forgiveness is important, but the first step in that process is for the person needing to be forgiven making accepting their actions and wanting to make amends. But since we now live in a culture where the leadership tells us apologizing for anything is weakness, even when you know you're wrong, I don't think we're going to get much in the way of contrition.
Varg is up there, and I don't want to get into trying to evaluate which actions are worse, but Michael Jackson's success has him at the top of my list. Varg isn't big enough for me to get as upset, deplorable waste of life though he may be.
Once the Cold War was over, metal was left in a tough position. It was a genre of anger and rebellion, but when we are now told the world is at peace, and Reaganomics was coming to and end, what was there left to rail against? I don't think it's a coincidence that the next time we got a truly momentous piece of social work was when we became entangled in war again (like it or not, "American Idiot" did have an impact on the anti-war effort). The 90s were a tough time to be angry. The economy was going well, the world was peaceful, so the only thing to point your frustration towards was yourself (or your parents, as the trope goes). We got emo and nu-metal out of that lack of a unifying force to fight. Anger as a youth is apparently natural, and without something external to justify it, we instead got a generation of 'woe-is-me' music.
Yes, you would think the misfits of metal would be more for inclusion, but that's where we get to an uncomfortable conversation; metal has always been alarmingly white. It's getting better now, for sure, but those formative years were white guy after white guy defining what the genre was, and what it stood for. And we know that many of them will tend to get more conservative over the years, as the world changes and they don't like it. That's amplified even more by the isolation of many of these musicians, living life on the road, surrounded mostly by themselves and faceless blurs of crowds. I've theorized that the divide between urban and rural that is so apparent in politics is largely due to the number of people you encounter in day-to-day life. The more people, the more diversity you're likely to see, and the more you'll care that they are doing well also. Isolation is dangerous, and musicians lead very isolated lives. It doesn't surprise me that they would be inclined to take on a mentality of prioritizing themselves at the expense of everyone else. A genre that gets mad when someone cuts their hair in the wrong style doesn't scream of tolerance.
The biggest surprise for me this year was seeing just how huge the hype for Tool's album was. I knew it was going to be big, but not like that. I felt a bit like Martin Luther nailing his theses to the wall when I didn't buy in. I hope they don't set an example where others feel that taking even more time off is a viable strategy for building your audience. Do you realize the entirety of The Beatles' or Led Zeppelin's careers could fit in the gap between Tool's two most recent albums? That is insane.
And sad.
Maybe that's the most fitting way for this decade to be wrapping up, given its trajectory. What say you?
D.M: Addressing your points backward - I sometimes wonder about the longevity of careers and albums. I know that we live in a time in popular culture where there are too many options and not enough attention span, but I can't help but believe that popular culture has a longer shelf life than it used to because of the nature of technology. Back in the day of the Beatles and Zeppelin, music was certainly available in the home, but it wasn't digitally pressed and wasn't portable, like it is now. The increase in fidelity over the years gives records (and movies, and television series,) greater lifespan because it is exactly the way we remember it - so it doesn't seem as pressing for Tool to put out another album, because their fans still have such ease of access to their entire recording lifetime.
Secondarily, I think you can afford a larger gap in album cycles these days because 1) strange though it seems to say, musicians are just plain living longer, and 2) most of your revenue isn't coming from record sales these days. You can tour three times on a single record and make just as much money as you could touring three times on three records. Fair or foul, that's the reality of the music market, and so if you're faced with the choice, why not do one-third as much work?
And now, I'm going to make an incredible logical leap, and combine everything we're talking about from unintelligible logos on down into a single, hopefully cogent argument.
Metal, much as I love it (and I do,) suffers from the problem of exclusivity. It is a genre that simultaneously wants to be noticed, shuns the attention, encourages self-expression and punishes it for falling outside the proscribed bounds.
So, the bands with scrawled, thorny logos don't want to be accessible, and don't pine for mainstream success. This is the same argument no doubt used by bands who have bodily functions in their name. There's an inherent conundrum there - how do you make money and continue being able to afford making music if you eschew the most common form of success, but that's a whole different phenomenon that we're not here to discuss. These are artists who aren't looking for eyes to be upon them and would mock those that were.
The same principle applies to metal's exclusionary nature and the issue with hair-cutting. Metal wants people to be part of the community, but only if they're part of the exact same community and social constructs. In this way, metal in particular is somewhat like a cult, and even has factions within the cult that war against each other (not literally, of course, though I'm sure there's some fan-fic out there...)
None of this is revolutionary - you and I have discussed it more times than I care to remember. The part that's most alarming is that metal can't see itself from a wide enough angle to recognize its own fallacy. It trumpets itself as the genre of the downtrodden and fallen, but is so wrapped up in a pathological need to belong to belong to something greater that it ostracizes those who don't belong. It is ironic in many ways - metal and rap have been, could be and perhaps should be, bedfellows. Strange bedfellows, certainly, but bedfellows nonetheless. The two espouse many of the same ideals and embrace those who are overlooked. Yet when Zack de la Rocha belts out "spit for the hated / the reviled / the unrefined / the no ones / the nobodies / the last in line" during the chorus of Saul Williams' "Act III, Scene 2 (Shakespeare,)" many whom the message should have reached in the metal community never heard it; it wasn't in their idiom.
On a brighter note - a big surprise for me this year, since you brought up the emotion of music. I am not, and have never been, an overly emotional music listener. I don't have attachments to events in my life to particular songs, and I'm not moved by lyrics. I can be impressed by them, and often am, but they don't alter how I'm thinking or feeling; music just doesn't speak to me in that way. My brain seeks and deciphers rhythm and beat and melody before it recognizes that words are being said, and I am often more absorbed by the tone of a voice than the verses it is speaking.
Except this once, this year. Destrage (and now I surely sound like a broken record, for I have heaped praise upon them over the years,) wrote a song on this year's "The Chosen One," entitled "Rage, My Alibi." Full disclosure as I hide behind the anonymity of a pseudonym on the internet - I have, in the last couple years, been diagnosed with and worked my way through some issues with anxiety. I've probably been battling it for years prior to that and never noticed. The lyrics of that song perfectly describe what an anxiety experience (I hesitate to use the word 'attack' for that kind of abrupt episode has never happened to me,) is like for me. Absolutely and without peer. I appreciate that not only did it hit the nail perfectly, but it did without metal's penchant for fantastic allegory and ridiculous phrasing. The song, in plain language, describes the dull paralysis that can happen. And so the first time, I am moved.
What do you want to see for next year?
CHRIS C: That's an interesting thought about technology, but I see it from a slightly different angle. We're old enough that the first albums I ever got were on cassette, so I think I'm speaking from experience here. Back in those days, not only did we have fewer albums to choose from, but the nature of the format meant we more often listened to very second of the albums. Since we had a limited supply, and playing the tapes (or vinyl if you're even older) did degrade the fidelity over time, we kept needing new music from the artists to keep ourselves interested, and keep ourselves from having to re-purchase our favorites because we wore them out. Economically, we would either spend the money on a new record from our favorites, or we would try to hold out on buying a second copy of a worn-out older one. That feeling went away once CDs took over, but streaming has made any thinking of physical product, and money in general, a relic for those few of us who still like to have our favorites in a more tangible form.
The more pressing effect of streaming is the proliferation of bands who either put out solely EPs (I don't find them nearly as satisfying), or only singles (I don't see the point at all - how does a new band with only two songs either play live shows, or establish fans? I can't pledge allegiance to what could be a fluke. Not to mention it being easy for a single song to slip through the cracks of my memory.). The very nature of the relationship between fan and artist has changed, especially for those who have Patreon accounts. Paying a set amount of money to an artist per month/year, without knowing if you're getting new music, or how much, is completely different than how we grew up. And being that I'm fickle when it comes to liking everything someone puts out, I find it dangerous.
Metal's mantra is essentially, "Don't look at me, but don't ignore me either." The most annoying thing I've ever heard, and I've heard it too many times, is when someone says, "you're not a real metal fan," as though there are rules for such things. It's foolish when you think about it. One of the dominant uniforms for metal are leather and studs, usually while riding a motorcycle, which was created by a gay man, and also happens to represent S&M culture. And yet, metal has often taken up the mantle of neanderthal 'me-want woman' attitudes. Or how the other defining trait for the genre's popularity heyday was long hair (and sometimes makeup), where they took on affectations of women, often while degrading any women who appeared in their songs. And no one seemed to ever see the irony.
I sort of understand it, though. No one wants to be completely alone, but you also don't necessarily want the people you want nothing to do with honing in on your territory. There's a fine line where we want to be accepted, but we don't want to be one of the masses. More than political terminology, metal is conservative in the personal meaning of the word. Liking metal isn't a risk, because we are often left alone because of it. It's riskier to like popular music, because that invites more people into our social circles, and they can challenge our thinking. Metal is more of a hive mind, because we share the same 'holier-than-thou' attitude. At least that's the feeling I get from certain types of discussion, like when metal fans brag about how technical a band's music is, or how Tool fans go on and on about the mathematical concepts in the songs. It's a form of snobbery, and it distracts us from having to think about the human connections we have to music, and the people who share our tastes.
I find lyrics fascinating, but that's probably just because of my dabbling in songwriting/poetry. I know something about what it takes to write beautiful or meaningful words, and I have a much harder time putting up with half-assed writing because of it. That's one of the main reasons I so hate songs about rock or metal. It's just so damn lazy to say, "yeah, metal rocks!" Not every song needs to be about deep emotions, but there should be some evidence that at least the author tried to make the words sound good. I don't know if I ever explicitly said this, but the lyrics are a main reason why The Wallflowers have been on every iteration of my top albums list. The words on "(Breach)", specifically on "I've Been Delivered", are something I often aimed to achieve myself.
I think that's my long way of getting around to saying that I may take more emotional support from songs, because as a wordsmith I'm able to find little nuggets that mirror thoughts I've already had. I'm an anxious person too, though I have worked on it entirely on my own, and I somehow didn't display much of it during the time we were in the same place. The fact we label it a problem, or a condition, isn't helpful. I've always thought it's perfectly normal to be uncomfortable with certain experiences. I'm more worried about the people who have no fear, or no shame. We've known a few, and they're the ones who didn't seem normal. Music can help, and it's one of the reasons I keep doing this. I continue to hold out hope that I will find something else that speaks to me, that can show me a light I wouldn't otherwise see.
What do I want to see next year? Musically, I'm certainly looking forward to the return of Creeper, and I'm expecting to hear more from Pale Waves, but there isn't a lot yet announced I'm aware of. There is, though, the confirmed news that new Tonic songs have been written, so now I have given up giving up on waiting for a new record. Personally, though, I'm looking forward to trying to slow down a touch. This year finally started to get to me, burning me out on records that were fine, but didn't give me much to say. I'm hoping that I can cut a few of them out, and segue into a bit more commentary. If I can give a little bit more time to the good records, without having to concern myself with thinking so much about the rest, I hope I will be the better for it.
What about you?
D.M: A quick comment on something you mentioned in passing about money in general becoming a relic of a bygone era; I was in Sweden this summer (regrettably, the week AFTER Gothenburg's music festival,) and encountered a whole slew of businesses, in particular grocery stores, who would not accept cash. That really took me aback, and was both literally and figuratively foreign to me. We're getting closer and closer to just having 'credits.'
Second quick comment on something you mentioned in passing about Tool; I'm still working this through the focus groups to see if it'll stick, but a friend at work and I were having a conversation about Tool and their legions (and their usurpation of Taylor Swift, however temporary,) and suddenly the planets aligned in my head: Tool is the metal Radiohead. The more I think through all the levels and ramifications of that, the more it feels right.
In the general sense for 2020, I want to see a number of things - I want to see Ruth Bader Ginsburg live through the election, because regardless of political party, the Supreme Court should never be 6-3 in EITHER direction (and if the president wins re-election, then oh well, I guess we're taking our chances with her health.) I'd like to see the Mets live up to their potential, I'd like to see Ed Orgeron win a national title (which if it happens will technically be in 2020,) and I'd like to see Anthony Joshua finally fight Deontay Wilder (though I don't know that would ever happen at this juncture.)
Musically, I still want to see Blackguard release "Storm." It's been on this list for years, and I thought we were gonna get there this year! They released a single and everything! But still no full album. Not quite there. I would like to a thrash revival - Power Trip was the last band who really understood what that meant, and everyone surrounding them seems to be confusing either black metal or metalcore for thrash. I know it's an old genre, and I know there's probably not a lot of new territory there, but it's too proud and too important in metal's history to let it wither.
And of course, I'd like to see some new material from Turisas. Six years and nothing! Six!
I'll let you get out of here on this - you mentioned at the head of this thing that we would 'talk later' about the highlight of your musical year, and how it was only tangentially related to music. I'll let you expand on that.
CHRIS C: I am intentionally detached from certain aspects of technology, so what you're describing depresses me. I don't want to plug in more than I already am, especially not to do things that can easily be done without doing so. Boo!
Tool and Radiohead are both pretentious, their fans are devoted to an unhealthy degree, and they both require listeners to be tolerant of much ambient time-wasting. Yeah, I can see it. At one point, Radiohead could have been described as a band for people who think technology is music, and Tool falls into that category I coined this year about bands who think math is music. Maybe this explains why I hated "Fear Inoculum" so much. Actually, that's easy. What I need to do is figure out why I actually like "Lateralus"...
Good choices, and it brings up a point I talked about somewhere else, that I might get around to turning into an essay; after so long without new material, I'm not sure I want new music from even my favorite band. We have changed, they have changed, and each year the chances of our roads diverging grow stronger. Maybe it's for the best to leave us with good memories. It's a thought I've had.
Yes, the highlight of my musical year. I have been reflective in the past about the good fortune I have had in establishing enough of a relationship that I was exchanging a few emails with a couple musicians I am a fan of. This year, that got turned on its head, as I somehow was graced with the development of a real friendship not just with one of them, but with the most important of them all. You know all about this, but it has been a complete mind-fuck to have them as a real part of my life. I haven't yet figured out exactly how this happened, but for someone who doesn't have, or make, many deep connections with people, it has been eye-opening. It has also completely paid-off all the time I've ever spent as a critic. You joked about it for years, and it turns out you were closer to being right than you ever thought. Crazy.
I think we're getting to the end, so you can take us home. Onward, 2020!
D.M: It's interesting you mention not wanting more music from our favorite artists. I read an editorial a long time ago, and we may have even discussed it before, which dared to venture into the taboo and ask the question "how many more albums did Nirvana have in them, anyway?" The end conclusion, just so I don't leave it hanging open, was one, maybe one a half, but this was one of those rare occasions when the question was more important than the answer. It was an existential reflection on creativity, particularly as it relates to music. How much passion and creativity is contained in a single person or group of people? And how long can they keep it up? For the truly transcendent ones, it can go on for decades - Metallica still has something to say, so does Lacuna Coil and AC/DC, for all they are and aren't, had a hell of a run before it became time to stop. Much more common is the artist (in any medium,) who proves the adage from the old Rush lyric, "that we're only immortal / for a limited time." (Good lord, I just quoted Rush. I must be losing my edge.) With all that said, I still pine for a new Turisas album, but I know that the peak may already be behind us. And the third side for consideration is the least common, but the most curious - the legacy that was cut short. Al Hendrix has been publishing his son's scattered loose ends for years, and while opinions vary of whether he should be or not, the one unquestioned good thing that comes out of it is that we see just the smallest glimpse of where Jimi wanted to explore with his music. Jimi Hendrix remains one of the three great 'what-ifs?' in popular culture, along with Bruce Lee and Bo Jackson. The question behind the question is this: is it better to leave a greater legacy over the course of a shorter impactful period, or to carve your legacy by working to extend that creative period for years on?
And so, in consideration of that question, I leave with this. I apologize for grandstanding a little bit, and also perhaps for not answering the unanswerable question, but here it is. I was reflecting the other day that in a few short weeks, February 13th, 2020, for precision's sake, Black Sabbath's debut album will turn fifty years old. That's staggering to think about for a lot of reasons, but the largest among them for me is the notion that the name Black Sabbath carries just as much vitality and weight as it did then, maybe more. It is not entirely rare to see a band crest fifty and remain relevant - The Beatles, Led Zeppelin and the Rolling Stones, maybe the holy trinity of rock music, have all surpassed the mark, and many more have done the same. Yet Sabbath didn't then, and doesn't now, live in their strata. Perhaps it is because the band produced what so many saw as 'low' or 'subversive' music, but whatever the case, Black Sabbath invented something, and the genre they created would be markedly different without their having done so. They remain current in a way that their contemporaries, even the luminaries we already mentioned, do not, and that deserves celebration.
Anyway, that's all I got. May everyone be blessed with either peace or endurance in 2020 - whichever you feel you need more.
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