I’ve been going through all of my old music over the past few days. Most of Liz Phair’s work has really held up over time. (As has Jen Trynin’s, which surprised me.) Fiona Apple’s, on the other hand, has not. Or maybe it was never very good in the first place. I was young back then. So who can tell?
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The Edge of the American West 
74 comments
February 20, 2009 at 12:29 pm
ben
This post is classified correctly.
February 20, 2009 at 12:31 pm
acdeeker
Only problem with going back and listening to Liz Phair is that one of her songs inevitably gets stuck in my head for DAYS. “Uncle Alvarez” is the worst offender.
February 20, 2009 at 12:42 pm
touhy
I recently listened to REM’s Automatic for the People and thought: “my, this is a very repetitive album.” Your mileage may differ, however.
February 20, 2009 at 1:03 pm
Kevin
Ah, Liz Phair. I knew there was a reason we got along. Diminishing returns after the first two albums, but those ones were gold.
February 20, 2009 at 1:08 pm
eric
Old song lyrics most likely to pop into my head for no evident reason: almost anything from Joe’s Garage.
February 20, 2009 at 1:11 pm
ari
“Uncle Alvarez” is almost impossibly catchy. And I agree that the first two albums are the best, though I’m also fond of Whitechocolatespacegg (oddly, google’s spellcheck is not fond of that word).
February 20, 2009 at 1:45 pm
Jason B.
I’m repeatedly in awe of how well the Refreshments album Fizzy Fuzzy Big and Buzzy holds up. Phenomenal album–especially “Banditos” and “Mekong” and “Down Together.”
I need to listen to that right now.
February 20, 2009 at 2:10 pm
ben
Old song lyrics most likely to pop into my head for no evident reason: almost anything from Joe’s Garage.
This surprises me.
February 20, 2009 at 2:14 pm
Sybil Vane
I think you are being too hard on Fiona here.
February 20, 2009 at 2:23 pm
ari
Really? Well, okay. At least I was rooting for the Steelers, right?
February 20, 2009 at 2:52 pm
Anderson
Fiona’s videos have faded in your memory, is what happened.
February 20, 2009 at 2:54 pm
Sybil Vane
All that matters, ari, all that really matters.
February 20, 2009 at 4:50 pm
eric
This surprises me.
Why? They’re almost all insanely catchy. But esp. the title track, “Central Scrutinizer”, “Why Does it Hurt”, “Catholic Girls”, and “Little Green Rosetta”.
February 20, 2009 at 5:06 pm
Josh
Whoa, someone else who’s actually heard of Jen Trynin. Have you read her book?
February 20, 2009 at 5:07 pm
Josh
And yeah, Fiona was never very good to begin with.
February 20, 2009 at 5:11 pm
ari
I haven’t read the book, Josh. Should I?
February 20, 2009 at 5:15 pm
Josh
It’s not deep reading, but she’s a good writer and it gives a nice view into just what a nightmare the music industry is (and why she gave up recording after her second album). I have a copy you’re more than welcome to borrow if you want.
February 20, 2009 at 5:17 pm
Josh
And this post has inspired me to put Cockamamie on. Ah, memories.
February 20, 2009 at 5:22 pm
ari
She made great pop music, right? Gun Shy, Trigger Happy‘s also good stuff. Anyway, I’d love to borrow the book.
February 20, 2009 at 5:28 pm
Josh
Yeah, I found a copy of Gun Shy, Trigger Happy at Amoeba a few years ago and was baffled as to why it hadn’t done better. The book helps explain that.
February 20, 2009 at 9:37 pm
Robert Zimmerman
I picked up whitechoclatespaceegg within a year or so of its release after I heard Uncle A on the radio. To the extent that I’d thought of her at all before that time, it was because of the annoying (to me) writeups she got in the Chicago Reader in the early 90s. It’s an album that I keep coming back to with pleasure. There are two things I really admire about her songwriting. One is the wide range of characters she’s been able to inhabit, often quite vividly. The other is the verse/chorus relationships, which are not only catchy but rich, both musically and lyrically. Sometimes there’s a great twist, like the bridge in Uncle A (“Well it’s a long ways down…”).
February 20, 2009 at 10:18 pm
ben
Why? They’re almost all insanely catchy.
I’ve never heard the album. I just wouldn’t have figured you for a Zappa fan.
February 20, 2009 at 10:28 pm
rootlesscosmo
Listen to “Winterreise” and “Lieder eines fahrendes Gesellen” and we’ll talk.
February 20, 2009 at 10:42 pm
ben
Ok, I’ve listened to “Die Winterreise”. Now what?
February 20, 2009 at 11:52 pm
Robert Zimmerman
Now what?
That’s my question, too. Schubert’s fabulous, and Mahler’s great if you like that kind of thing, and what does that have to do with anything?
February 21, 2009 at 12:48 am
Vance
I think rootless was beginning an argument of the form, “If you don’t know Music X then you’re in no position to judge Music Y.”
February 21, 2009 at 10:01 am
rootlesscosmo
Not quite. My implied argument is that if the question is “What music doesn’t grow stale?” you should include some that’s been around longer than 10 or 20 years for comparison.
February 21, 2009 at 10:10 am
ari
rootless, was your comment directed at me, ben, or someone else?
February 21, 2009 at 10:26 am
Charlieford
“What music doesn’t grow stale?” THE BASEMENT TAPES.
February 21, 2009 at 10:28 am
rootlesscosmo
You, Ari, I guess. You wrote of going through “all my old music” yet the scope of comparison struck me as narrow. As a non-rock musician, I get depressed when I read discussions in which “music” and “rock” are treated as co-extensive domains.
February 21, 2009 at 10:45 am
Robert Zimmerman
How about that Hildegard, then? She totally, um… chants!
February 21, 2009 at 10:49 am
ari
Oh, fair enough, rootless. Anyway, I was putting stuff on my iPod, and I hadn’t yet arrived at my classical and jazz. I suppose it also seemed clear to me that Mozart’s work has held up through the years. Same for Mingus. As it happened, I was considering a post about why I think some pop endures and others doesn’t. But then I quickly realized I had no idea what I was talking about. I know, I know, that’s never stopped me before.
February 21, 2009 at 10:59 am
saintneko
Meh, Fiona Apple has always sucked – she appealed to young girls because the wanted to be her, and young guys because they wanted to wear her like a scarf. At least subconsciously.
February 21, 2009 at 11:04 am
ari
Dylan’s another one, Charlie, about whom I felt silly saying: “His music doesn’t get stale.” Same with the Stones and Beatles.
February 21, 2009 at 11:05 am
ari
But I am comfortable saying that Dylan totally pwns that Mozart dude.
February 21, 2009 at 11:26 am
saintneko
As to the question of why some pop music endures and others don’t, I think it has a lot to do with the rhythms of the music, and whether or not it was music-by-committee as most pop music tends to be.
If you look at Phair’s early releases, the list of personnel working on the production is extraordinarily tiny. Not so for Apple, and it gets worse as she goes on. To be fair, Phair’s later work has a lot of personnel working on it, which is maybe why people appreciate her earlier works more than her later works. In fact, on Apple’s last release before the “iTunes Originals” she doesn’t even play piano on all tracks, the one instrument she’s credited with… and since there was a huge amount of studio musicians playing for the tracks, I’m guessing to do the same thing live required everything-but-the-lipsynch recording or a bunch of hired musicians. Phair’s later work suffers the same treatments, and of course all those layers of abstraction separate the passion of the soul of (later) Phair or Apple from the music we actually hear.
February 21, 2009 at 11:51 am
JPool
Apple’s first album was pleasant enough, in a backgroundy sort of way, but it wasn’t that interesting musically (or at least was significantly less interesting than other music of that time, such as Gun Shy Trigger Happy). Extraordinary Machine, though, has more substantial charms.
February 21, 2009 at 11:54 am
rootlesscosmo
In my experience, music in just about any genre can grow stale, and not only through over-familiarity. Or if not stale, then at least it can come to seem less involving, while other music, even by the same composer, can reveal previously unseen depths. I used to be able to get completely lost in “Jazz at Massey Hall,” or “Bird with Strings;” I learned bebop by the Lennie Tristano method of memorizing Parker solos note for note (and scat-singing them in the approved Lennie falsetto that was a marker of in-group membership, or aspiration.) I still admire Bird as a pioneer and a dazzling technician, with the best ears in human history, but the bebop idiom, maybe because it had its corners rubbed off by two generations of epigoni (like me), has lost its power to surprise me; even a newly-unearthed wire recording of Bird playing “Cherokee” in a chili joint on 139th St. may pique my interest but won’t light up my brain the way it once might have. Slow movement of the Mozart E flat String Quintet, on the other hand–though it’s an old friend–stops me in my tracks, raises my heart rate, moistens my eyes. The music stays the same; we change.
February 21, 2009 at 12:11 pm
ari
The music stays the same; we change.
This seems right. But some music seems to endure for a cross section of changing people. That said, my biggest complaint is that music no longer elicits a visceral response in me. I used to turn up the volume on X’s Los Angeles, or The Replacements’ Let it Be and feel my stomach churn. No longer, though. And the change is clearly within me, not the result of any flattening in the music, which has endured (based on whatever squishy definition of “endure” I’m using here).
Also, speaking of The Replacements, is there some critical cultural moment that we identify as when irony went mainstream? The cover of Kiss’s “Black Diamond” on Let it Be remains wonderful, mostly because “Black Diamond” is a great song, but it has lost its edge, because irony is everywhere now. When did that happen?
February 21, 2009 at 12:12 pm
ari
Shorter Ari: someone should do a cultural history of irony.
February 21, 2009 at 12:16 pm
Walt
I had a (guy) friend who was fairly homophobic, and had the tendency to absent-mindedly sing the chorus from songs he liked. These two tendencies interacted badly for him when I introduced him to the Liz Phair song with the chorus “I want a boyfriend…”
February 21, 2009 at 12:18 pm
rootlesscosmo
Try Jacqueline DuPre and Daniel Barenboim’s 1971 recording of the Franck A major Sonata (originally for violin, transcribed for cello.) It’s one of the last recordings she made before MS ended her career (and, years later, her life); I don’t know if she knew, or suspected, she was leaving a final legacy, but the intensity of the playing–and I’m not even a big César Franck fan–is extraordinary and I hope it may re-awaken the visceral response you regret having lost.
February 21, 2009 at 12:18 pm
Kevin
The cover of Kiss’s “Black Diamond” on Let it Be remains wonderful, mostly because “Black Diamond” is a great song, but it has lost its edge, because irony is everywhere now. When did that happen?
Excellent point (and an excellent cover, especially when rendered live).
I think the point at which irony turned on itself came somewhere in the early ’90s, as marked by three moments.
First and foremost, when William Shatner started making fun of William Shatner. As soon as he started winking at us, it was all over. His “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds” is only hysterical if he’s not in on the joke.
Second, this was the exact same time that Alanis Morrisette’s “Isn’t It Ironic” — a song with lots of examples of things that are anything but ironic — officially destroyed any meaning the term might have once had.
Third, the murder-suicide of irony and sarcasm was, as with all things, crystallized in a classic Simpsons episode.
Teen1: Oh, here comes that cannonball guy. He’s cool.
Teen2: Are you being sarcastic, dude?
Teen1 [sadly, with a sigh]: I don’t even know anymore.
February 21, 2009 at 12:24 pm
ari
I’m posting something about this, Kevin. But I think you’ve nailed it. Maybe the book should be an article. Or, because of the topic, a blog post. Nope, probably just a twitter.
February 21, 2009 at 12:51 pm
Oh, the irony. « The Edge of the American West
[…] posting about | by ari I’m still fiddling with iTunes, which means that my well-documented stroll down memory lane continues apace. And while ambling through The Replacements’ still-excellent Let it Be last […]
February 21, 2009 at 12:56 pm
Charlieford
The Basement Tapes, of course, aren’t exactly pop–or much of it isn’t, though Dylan himself can be considered a “pop” artist. That might be part of its endurance. “Pop,” it seems to me, when it’s really peaking, is a mysterious combination of the familiar and the unexpected. It takes themes and tropes and chords and notes that are out there in the pop cosmos at any particular moment, and combines them with some innovations or twists that makes the whole thing both accessible but just-new-enough to be exciting because it’s never exactly been heard before. It’s attraction, its deep emotional power, comes not merely from the music itself, but from the excitement it creates among those who are into it about their mutual newness (the music, its fans). I think (stress “think,” as in hypothesize) Ari, that’s why that visceral excitement isn’t there anymore. There’s something very subtle going on, psychological, social, political, and artistic all at once, about being an adolescent or a young adult engaging these new musics that is utterly unique, and can’t ever be captured again. I go back and listen to old Bruce Springsteen, eg, and marvel that it ever excited me: not only can I now hear the artifice in its composure, but its twist–the common man, existentialist, Motown combo–that made it so exciting in the ’70s now seems not stale, exactly, but a little silly. For many people, that sense of the new, of belonging to a cohort bound to this music that demarcates you from other cohorts, is all that attracts them to music, and once they’ve worked thru it and found their nitch, they stop listening to new music, and just periodically revisit the old stuff to relive their youth now and again. For the rest of us, we need to find “music for adults,” as Linda Ronstadt calls it. (I will tell you I still get a bit of that visceral response from Buddy Holly. Don’t know why. Maybe because it’s just so good.)
February 21, 2009 at 1:29 pm
ari
old Bruce Springsteen…now seems not stale, exactly, but a little silly
Don’t you blaspheme in here! Otherwise, though, I think you’re right, particularly about using music to define myself and my friends against other groups of people. Great, it turns out that I was even more trite and predictable than I thought at the time.
February 21, 2009 at 2:13 pm
Charlieford
Aren’t we all?
February 21, 2009 at 3:04 pm
Charlieford
In addition, has anyone had the odd, deflating feeling that comes from trying to give the music your students are excited about a chance, and finding it just won’t work? A few years ago I caught a review of Arcade fire, just before they became a minor phenom. So I asked my students if they knew about them, and they were really excited, and very impressed with how hip I was. Someone lent me their EP, which was all they had out, and I listened and tried to like it. Then their cd came out, and I bought it, and tried, really tried, to get into it. but I was like my father when he was criticizing my music: these people can barely play their instuments, the music is repetitive and uninspired, they can’t sing, the lyrics are inane, etc. It was then that I decided there’s a kind of mysterious alchemy to pop: joining certain elements that are sort of “in the air” and capturing a mood that’s out there that the people don’t even know they’re feeling, and you give it a sound and a face. But whatever the mood is, I didn’t have it, naturally. I’m in a much different place than they, and the music wasn’t made for me anyway. I tried to sell the cd to them, and they were like, “Uh, no one listens to cds anymore.”
February 21, 2009 at 3:16 pm
Urk
Charlieford: agreed on the basement tapes, but The Arcade Fire is one of the newer bands that I don’t feel that about, tho I know that feeling.
I also don’t think you can boil it down to “music by committee” or “passion of the soul” not the least because it depends on the committee. if a songwriter writes interesting, lasting, engaging songs it doesn’t matter how much of what instrument she plays on the record necessarily, right? Liz Phair is better songwriter than Fiona Apple.
February 21, 2009 at 5:11 pm
Charlieford
Urk, well, I don’t believe it’s just, or even mainly, about identity for all people. I think art is art, and it has a certain power that can be–though statistically isn’t–appreciated by people across cohort lines. But, on AF, I’ll guess maybe you’re a bit younger than I? Let’s not do birthdates, just first concerts. Mine was the Band at Trenton (NJ) State Fairgrounds, August 1970 (or was it ’71?).
February 21, 2009 at 8:42 pm
ben
I listened to King Crimson’s “Fracture” again recently and was pleased to see that I still find it exciting.
February 21, 2009 at 8:45 pm
ari
Charlieford is old. No offense, grandpa.
February 21, 2009 at 8:46 pm
ari
Also: my first concert, without adults chaperoning, was the Police with the GoGos opening. That was probably in 1983. Or maybe 1982.
February 21, 2009 at 10:09 pm
JPool
My first concert with peers was tvbc at the 7th St Entry, ca. 1988.
February 21, 2009 at 10:37 pm
Jason B.
I was true to my era–my first concert was in 1986–Ratt, with Cheap Trick opening. Even then, that pairing bent my mind.
February 22, 2009 at 4:12 am
Michael Turner
I’m sure don’t remember my first concert, because it was the 70s, in the San Francisco Bay Area, and there was this unavoidable substance floating around called cannabis indica sinsemilla. I can only tell you about the first concert I actually recall: Talking Heads, playing free, lower Sproull Plaza, U.C. Berkeley (which led to the first concert ticket I ever bought, a few days later. OK, OK: the first concert ticket I can remember buying.)
I got a late start, perhaps, but eventually became an insufferable bore about New Wave bands. These days, however, much of this stuff is embarrassing, even unlistenable, for me. Maybe I’m not as ancient and creaky as Charlieford, but I have to agree with him about what he calls “mysterious alchemy”, in which youth is a major ingredient. This sort of thrill may be mostly un-relivable.
Now, I find, I’d rather crank up Al Green starting out trying to wearily mail in what might have been his 200th rendition of Take Me to the River, but finally succumbing to enthusiasm by way of infection from his audience, than to get myself through live concert footage of David Byrne attempting to reinject some of the original energy into that song, which he’d very cleverly borrowed once, but never quite stole. (No, I won’t link the latter. Believe me, I’m sparing you.) Sometimes raggedly earnest authenticity wins out in the long run over even the most brilliantly incisive irony, and sometimes it should. Energy is eternal delight, irony is under no such temporal constraint.
February 22, 2009 at 8:18 am
jeffbowers
Funny. I was just having a memory moment with friends over this song.
February 22, 2009 at 9:35 am
Julian
Michael Turner:
It looks like there’s footage of the first concert you attended on Youtube, in case you didn’t know and wanted to indulge in a little nostalgia…
I would embed the link if I knew how. I found the clips by searching “Talking Heads” and “Berkeley”.
February 22, 2009 at 9:48 am
kid bitzer
okay, who else here saw springsteen shows pre born-to-run era?
must a been ’73 or ’74. one guy kept yelling for ‘rosalita’, which was their biggest hit to date.
February 22, 2009 at 9:50 am
kid bitzer
also: we hadn’t discovered photosynthesis yet. most of us just derived energy from ox-redux reactions around sulfur-rich mid-ocean geothermal vents.
February 22, 2009 at 6:35 pm
Carl
When you’ve been around long enough you build up an archive of references and comparisons. This knocks out the ‘it’s like, totally new man’ kind of excitement. And then you’ve woken up on other people’s floors smelling other people’s puke often enough, eaten enough fatty brunches and had enough inane conversations about the meaning of it all as symbolized by Keith Moon’s drinking habits that the raw joy of shared enthusiasm has been gradually replaced by the ptsd of n+1 backaches, sour stomachs and dawning realization that the one really cool thing this or that friend said very early on has either not been repeated or has been, over and over without variation, so many times that you can not only say it with them, but anticipate the cue that will elicit it. Which may be a nice little life.
February 22, 2009 at 6:54 pm
Sir Charles
ari,
I believe that it was in the early Nineties that irony became the shackles of youth. I think there is probably some Marcusian analysis that can be applied here — but I’m watching the Oscars, I’m drunk and I have two loads of laundry to fold.
I saw Liz do her 15th anniversary tour of “Exile” this summer — quite cool. I also loved that the night I saw her she made a point of wanting to get the show done in time to watch Obama’s acceptance speech at the Convention. (I actually think whitechocolatespacegg is neary as good as Exile by the way — not as audacious, but some really great songs.)
I saw the Replacements on the “Tim” tour in 1985 when I was in my last year of law school. They were drunk beyond belief. And played a couple of Kiss covers. (I remember with great bitteness some undergrad saying of a couple of my 26 or 27-year old friends — look here comes the Woodstock generation.”)
February 22, 2009 at 7:04 pm
ari
I remember with great bitteness some undergrad saying of a couple of my 26 or 27-year old friends — look here comes the Woodstock generation.”
I don’t want to tread on your professional toes, but I’m pretty sure no court in the country would hand down a murder conviction under such circumstances.
February 22, 2009 at 7:18 pm
Sir Charles
ari,
Ha! He’s lucky he didn’t say that now that I’m older, bigger, meaner, and bitterer. It would have been an ugly Joe Pesci like scene. Then I could just laugh.
February 22, 2009 at 9:24 pm
Michael Turner
It looks like there’s footage of the first concert you attended on Youtube
If you look carefully, you’ll spot me: I’m the one who’s not pogoing, not pumping his fist in the air, and not blowing soap bubbles. But probably only because I was too stoned. (The first two require energy; the last, planning.)
What can I say? Yes, we were confused then, but a steady diet of bong hits and Jefferson Starship can do that to a lower life-form. As kb points out, we hadn’t even evolved photosynthesis at that point, let alone eye-hand coordination.
February 22, 2009 at 11:52 pm
Urk
Lesee, my first concert was Head East, with the Cate Brothers opening up, 1978 or 79. This was the playing-smaller-and-smaller-venues-a-few-years-after-the hit stage for Head East. Supposedly the keyboard player smoked a joint onstage, or so I was told later, I didn’t notice. Anyway, that was typical of what we got at the only big venue in town then, the basketball arena on campus:REO Speedwagon, Chicago, etc. Cheap Trick was easily the coolest band to play there the entire 80s.
Weirdly enough Charlieford, the Cate Brothers, (who were local but had albums on Asylum and Atlantic & a top 20 song in 1975) joined the Band when they first reformed without Robertson in 1983.
February 23, 2009 at 12:10 am
Vance
If I don’t count classical music (or avant-garde “new music”), my first concert was Bill Frisell, with Motian and Lovano, at the Knitting Factory, late ’80s. And if we’re not counting jazz, the first was probably Lyle Lovett, in the early ’90s. I missed out on the “alchemy” of being in tune with my peers’ taste. I did enjoy the Talking Heads, but slightly too late — it didn’t occur to me to go try to hear them play.
February 23, 2009 at 6:03 am
Charlieford
I remember Levon discussing the Cate Bros. in TWOF. From Arkansas, right?
February 23, 2009 at 8:24 am
Urk
Yeah, from Fayetteville, my hometown, where Ronnie Hawkins owned a nightclub from the late 50s to the late 60s. They began playing in the very early 60s, played alot of Ray Charles and Bobby “Blue” Bland & wrote their own material too. Levon played with them for awhile after he quit the Dylan tour in ’65 & then his nephew Terry Cagle took over for him. They made their major label move (including albums produced by Steve Cropper and Tom Dowd) between ’75-’79 & then went back to regional touring and kept playing locally until they officially retired in 2006. Their one hit, “union Man” expresses ambivalent but i think in the end pretty good politics. I used to think it was an anti-union song (no surprise from a Southern band, esp. of their generation) but now I think the lyrics support the idea that it’s a conversion narrative. Earl, the guitar playing harmony singing twin is a genius of the telecaster guitar. I could go on for a long time (talk about memory lane!) since they actually figure into my dissertation, but I’ll stop now.
February 23, 2009 at 1:47 pm
Carl
Marketing announcement: looks like it’s time for a “Return of the Secaucus 7” / “Big Chill” bittersweet nostalgia-fest for the ’70s generation.
Btw my first concert was Jeff Beck, “There and Back” tour. He was the rebel choice among suburban white boy guitar heroes, defaults being Page or Clapton. But I mostly used my limited money to buy vinyl, which now clutters a closet upstairs.
February 23, 2009 at 5:25 pm
va
Holy crap, Jen Trynin is married to my cousin! That is all.
February 23, 2009 at 5:37 pm
ari
So you’re saying I don’t have shot? Alas, another shattered dream.
February 23, 2009 at 5:40 pm
ari
Seriously, tell her that her loyal fans remain loyal.