Has anyone but me noticed that the singer for Creed, the multi-platinum selling post-Alice In Chains post-Pearl Jam post-Grunge popular rock band, has the voice of Cher, just an octave or two lower? Really, give it a listen. Match any Creed song up to the likes of “Take Me Home” or even that hideous comeback hit “Believe” and you’ll hear all of the same weird inflections, miniature growls and yelps that have characterized Cher’s entire musical career and unusual singing style. It’s worked for her for decades but I certainly hope it doesn’t fare as well for Creed, the band that must have been listening when Beavis said to Butthead, “Hey, wouldn’t it be cool if like all bands sounded more like Alice In Chains?” and took it to heart. There are so many multi-platinum selling bands that just totally suck and I can never understand why they’re so popular, what is it that propells a band up into that echelon of million sellers? Why are we subject to the mediocrity of bands like Creed, Staind, Slipknot, Blink 182, Linkin Park, Sugar Ray, Puddle of Mudd, No Doubt, Godsmack, and more while so many other bands seem so much more worthy of acclaim and massive popularity? Is it still all about that lucky break, that pivotal appearance, that video going into rotation just before spring break, the selling of souls to Satan or Sony, word of mouth, or simply just a song with a good hook? What sends the kids out to their local Tower or Virgin outlets to make concerted enough purchases to push folks like Eminem or Limp Bizkit into the consciousness of the masses? Why is it that many new bands seem to skip the humble beginnings stage of a career in rock music and immediately take on the limousine driven gold-plated sheen of corporate industry mega-properties, staying at the Four Seasons Hotel downtown like they were Dianna Ross as opposed to The Phoenix Hotel where it seems all the cool bands used to stay comfortably on a mindful budget with no massage therapists on duty? I think it’s pretty obvious that bands are definitely buying into the corporate sponsorship deals a lot more readily and frequently now than they used to, lending their endorsements and representation to certain products all the time for major amounts of money. Rock stardom has moved further and further away from the D.I.Y. ethics of punk rock’s origin, the bond of a band being just like the people who come to see them and support them, the like-minded community from whence they came. Today I don’t think bands play to people like themselves. You could take a band member off the stage and place them in the crowd at their own show and they quite possibly wouldn’t feel any sense of comraderie or community with their audience but rather a disdain, like “Who are these people? Don’t touch me…security, where’s security!” Success currently in rock music could essentially be more within the grasp of a band featuring a vocalist who looks like Matt Dillon as opposed to a masterful guitarist with an other-worldly ability like Jimmy Page or a brilliant lyricist like Elvis Costello, or a singer who could actually really sing as well as pose and mug for a soft drink commercial. The criterion for being a rockstar has definitely become convoluted with demands that go above and beyond just being in a band, developing your artistry and showing creative growth and expertise and pleasing and broadening your fan base. Now it requires image consultants, personal trainers, jumping through every concievable flaming hoop of promotional activity your record label suggests, hiding or fabricating elements of your “bio”, and basically restricting yourself. Gone are the days of rebelious hellcats bucking standards, setting trends in fashion without the aid of a big designer, trashing hotel rooms and cutting a hedonistic trail around the world of sexual exploits, excessive drug and alcohol abuse, and the adulation that allows and antics that fuel the creation of rock and roll legend. No, there will be none of that for todays rockers, they’re to busy preparing for the day when they get to meet the Pope, just like Bono. I bet the reportedly devoted spiritually deep bible-studying leather-clad pretty boy singer for Creed is cueing up for his turn to meet Pope Jon Paul, or as I refer to him after his tour de force Easter appearance in Italy, Monsignor drool-bucket. If he wants to meet him I’d say time is of the essence, we’re gonna be seeing color-coded smoke signals coming from the vatican sometime soon. He couldn’t even wash a single foot or carry the cross of forgiveness around the grounds where so many christians were slain, let alone take part in the easter egghunt in the altar boys quarters after dark. Hell, the few words he muttered were unintelligible. If he dies will Bono be the next Pope?
On that note The British Royal family I’m sad to say, has lost a member that no one could ever replace with the passing of the Queen Mother at the astonishing age of 101 years old, a good twenty years older than the pope. In her long life you never once saw her being trotted out in the public eye without her faculties about her, easter bonnet or not. She managed to carry on through life with her dignity intact, looking neat as a pin and frequently surprising and delighting her adoring public with an occasional disco dance or an outrageous hat or her enduring strength in the face of several tragedies over the last few years. The Royal Family is now dwindling in numbers with the devestating loss of Princess Diana, the more recent death of Princess Margaret and now the peaceful passing of the oldest and likely most beloved member. If it weren’t for Prince Harry’s widely publicized recent indescrepency involving the use of marijuana, I’d be hardpressed to choose a new favorite royal. Harry should learn that what they say is true, marijuana does indeed lead to the use of harder drugs…thank God. William might be first heir to the throne, but Harry is the true Royal Without a Cause and my new favorite.
Speaking of families, I’ve become completely enamored with a new television family, new to me that is, as I don’t have cable and until now had only heard about the hit HBO series The Sopranos. I’ve been renting and viewing the series on DVD and it’s pretty amazing. When it comes to these new and bizzarre programs produced by HBO like The Sopranos, OZ, and Six Feet Under and Sex In The City the fact that they don’t have to adhere to the guidelines and standards of normal broadcast television makes these shows sort of like a thrill ride. I’m continually shocked by the the amount of times I’m hearing the word fuck coming come out of the mouths of virtually every Soprano’s character in the cast, the ambient sort of non-stop nudity of the tittie-dancers at the strip club where they meet and conduct business, the sexual content, and the rampant and extremely graphic acts of violence. All of these staples of a New Jersey Mafia saga are oddly juxtaposed by the portrayal of a family just trying to get through day to day life providing a nurturing healthy environment and sense of proper family values and the ability to deal with lifes ups and downs and always having some leftover pasta to heat up for anyone who stops by. The character development is so well paced and the actors are turning out such brilliant performances you begin to care about people you really shouldn’t, as they are criminal—theiving, extorting cold blooded murderers, yet you understand their plights and choices and identify. The inherent danger of creating a show like this kind of became clear to me when I was out seeing a live show at the eagle last week.
Having witnessed so many pistol whippings, execution style murders, stranglings, brutal beatings etc. on the show, this violence has permeated my consciousness in a way that really makes me feel more prone to committ such acts, or think about it at least. I was up near the front of the bar by the stage watching an amazing set by local group Erase Errata an all female four piece with a kinetic, charged and rhythmic style and a great sense of angular terse post-punk influences and deconstructive redefinition of form.
The band is growing in popularity so the area I stood in was quite crowded and predominantly female. The crowd was dancing and jerking about in a way that was comfortable, people recognizing each others personal space, etc. when I overheard this long haired guy behind me who had earlier pushed me forward like it was the thing to do say, “I’m gonna cause some trouble,” and laughed like a moron as he threw himself into the crowd trying to start a mosh pit like we were seeing Limp Bizkit in a huge auditorium or something. He caused everyone around him discomfort and people were getting pissed, spilling drinks, getting knocked down and he just continued. Eventually more nitwits started in like that until the band actually said something about it. The whole time I just wanted to grab him by the hair, break my bottle on his face and repeatedly punch his head till he couldn’t stand up. I had my bottle ready and I assumed most everyone would like to see this happen as well. It would be so satisfying.
I of course didn’t do it, knowing I’d probably end up with assault charges and jail time but I really wanted to and feel more likely to do something like that than I ever have before. And the band came to a close on one of my favorite songs by them, the last line being, “I can’t tell myself from a TV.”