Behind Nirvana’s Rise: Hip Hop’s Rise and Rock’s Fall

This might seem an unusual topic but it does have a tangential relevance to Nirvana. Essentially music is motivated not just by twists in the tide of taste, nor only by specific outpourings of creativity, but by shifts in technology and economics. Examining music one hundred and fifty years ago, reproduction was purely via live performance meaning monetisation of music was channelled via the same route though printed scores and sheet music indeed turned a profit. The introduction of the means of recording and playing back music ushered in the modern age in two ways; firstly, the advance in technology created a different (and desirable) experience, secondly, it made music a different (and even more desirable) business opportunity. Instead of being bound by the limited capacity of a venue and by often, and where, an artist was willing to perform, the duplication and subsequent sale of a performance was a product limited by availability of raw materials, the outlets through which the product could be sold and the willingness of the public to pay. The move to digital in recent years has reduced (not eliminated) the importance of raw materials while expanding the accessibility of retail outlets, but also reduced the willingness of the public to pay — paying for a performance or paying for the recording medium possessed a tangible value beyond the music that digital reproduction doesn’t match.

Reproduction of classical performances, the sophisticated music of the elites, disguised and obscured the importance of self-taught musicians, amateur home performance or semi-professional/professional public performers in dancehalls, drinking establishments, street corners…Heck, Louis Armstrong started out in a brothel. Over the past hundred years the cost of recording music and reproducing it has declined significantly; its required significantly less complex equipment and manufacturing capacity; think of the shift from wax cylinder, to shellac, to vinyl, to eight tracks, cassettes and CDs — eight tracks were potentially a superior medium to cassettes in terms of lifespan and sound quality but they cost more and were less adaptable; eight tracks died, same as mini-discs which offered just as few advantages over a CD. This push has allowed more and more recordings of more and more artists, a vast democratisation. The simultaneous development allowing the capturing of performances in ever higher quality using ever less bulky and expensive equipment has run alongside the change in the recording medium.

Anyways, the previous paragraphs are almost a side-issue. At the core, music relies on the deliberate performance and labelling of sound. Two developments have taken place, one fairly linear, the other non-linear. Starting with the former, the cost of instruments declined as enterprising individuals found ways to manufacturer more of them at less cost. Trumpets, saxophones, drums, double-bass — these were dominant instruments for 30-40 years, essentially the jazz era’s peak was as long as that of rock and roll. The drive was still toward more, cheaper, easier; the guitar won out. In essence a guitar is a fairly simple instrument to get a tune from, to manipulate, easily electrified, readily replaceable, robust.

The other development has been generally a move toward smaller groupings of musicians. Remember the giant orchestras being the most respected form in classical music, then moving down to the big band era of swing jazz, then the standard guitar-led unit generally of three to five individuals. Solo artists have, of course, been woven in and out of that pattern.

Here’s the dilemma. Even in a stripped down format like a three piece rock band, there are still costs imposed by the format. These costs range from the transportation of equipment — the drum kit was possibly the most stable element of line-ups across the past hundred years — to the transportation of musicians, to the delays caused by health and personal matters increasing simply by the reality of dealing with three instead of one; it all adds up. When it comes to music as a business, the desire is to sell product; a group scenario requires the inspiration of three people to come together in a social musical setting — it doesn’t always happen and it does take time to create good group music, each element has to gel and there’s deeper criticism and disagreement with the positives and negatives that brings.

Hip hop was the obvious successor to rock because it chimed most fundamentally with the technological and the business trends of the past one hundred years. At its origins it featured the most simplistic instrumental set-up available; a record deck, drum machine and vocal. The equipment is low maintenance so long as it’s looked after, there’s no lengthy training required to create at least a basic arrangement. While synthesisers created new sounds, they also tried to mimic and reproduce old ones; drum machines developed similarly — in each case the desire with the technology was to package, as simply as possible, as many sounds and instruments and capabilities as possible. Suddenly the instrumental set-up didn’t rely on multiple people or coordination; the equipment existed to create without others. The guitar was already a compact robust instrument, the only place to go next was to merge many instruments into a single unit — a convergence made possible via technology. The move to computers has pushed this even further, ever more convenience at lowest cost required to produce the broadest range of sounds alongside other functions. For a commercial business this is a boon; ever more people able to do ever more things without being reliant on other people doing things — more product, more product.

Guitar music had already been following similar trajectories in terms of sound; the percussive qualities of the guitar won out over the variety offered by wind instruments, electrification deepened the sound that could be created, rhythm became the dominant element within music — guitar music moved ever more in tune with dance music. Hip hop took the trend to its logical conclusion but it wasn’t a vast step in terms of emphasis. The vocal performance mimicked that motion too; while usually far more densely worded, hip hop has a highly simplified mode of expression — this isn’t a criticism — far closer to spoken word, far more within the reach of the masses, reliant simply on a basic grasp of rhythm. Again, more people can master it, quicker, meaning there’s a deeper pool of talent from which to select — it’s a perfect commercial move.

The same motion occurred in terms of content too. Hip hop devolved into hash-tag rap in which entire songs are made up of thoughts lasting no longer than a line, an entire verse, let alone an entire song on a single theme or idea is increasingly hard to come by in the mainstream. The soul of pop music has always been about finding new ways of stating universals, hip hop is nothing but universal statements around a reduced set of topics — a trend accelerated by Southern hip hop and trap-rap in recent years. Again, it’s an efficiency measure within the means of production; it’s easier to write a lot of rhyming couplets that can be pieced together than a whole song, it’s easier to write variations on (a) sexual boasting (b) insults (c) financial/material boasting (d) brand names (e) empowerment slogans (f) realness (g) death wish — all highly sellable across demographics — than to weave an entire song as coherent (if not intelligent) as Lil Wayne’s Georgia Bush.

In the Eighties hip hop groups were a dominant force — Run-DMC, NWA, Public Enemy and so forth — while solo stars existed, a lot of attention still focused on the idea of a group. But, as the elements within a group like Public Enemy do not have such a high degree of synchronicity, unlike a guitar-drums-bass-vocals live rock band set-up, the music is more tolerant of error and the different individuals can be separated. That’s been the trend in hip hop, and in a very short space of time. The nineties saw the heyday of record label based identities — Death Row Records, Bad Boy Entertainment, No Limits — under which multiple artists shared a ‘stable’ of producers meaning that, so long as people were writing, the quantity of product that could be created was vast. It was an updating of the pop model developed by Motown or Phil Spektor in the Sixties and as a concept it still worked perfectly. Sub Pop had a similar ‘stable’ concept; shared tours, shared studio and producer, shared visual aesthetic — it worked for grunge same as it did for Motown or for gangsta rap.

The recording technology also meant that collaborations were simpler to arrange, the discreet elements could be brought together without the individuals involved needing to be there at the same time. This still meant there was a certain creativity co-dependency between those artists on the label though which could interrupt the flow of product to market. If a producer dropped out, relationships with colleagues collapsed, personal problems prevented an individual from performing, those around them on the label had to either do more work to continue to pump out manufactured articles, or the label simply released less, or had to rely more on archive material that was behind the cutting edge.

The result was readily found as the competition created by the mass availability of synthesisers and drum machines made reliance on an in-house provider of music unnecessary. As you no longer needed a group, you could retain the identity, shared credibility, shared audiences, resulting from some kind of united presence (Brick Squad, Young Money, Def Jux) without any artist on the label or within the scene being dependent on another. The price of producing music was now so low, the number of producers so high, that it was now relatively simple for artists to buy one another’s product — whether musical or vocal. The business change has been helped by the reality of a musical form that has become so reduced that, so long as there’s a beat, any artist can rap over a piece, or any producer can lay a song under a vocal; the elements share only the rhythmic component and that limitation increases the ease of reproduction.

The other piece that the new model provides is that the reduced investment needed to launch an artist or producer also translates to a reduced loss on investment if that artist or producer fails or declines. By comparison to the endless flogging of aging rock stars, hip hop drops stars all the time — the business model had made individuals increasingly expendable. Again, just like mass production made the role of individual artisans less and less significant when it came to the creation of product, the arrival of the equivalent of mass production in music makes the identity and talent of the creator less relevant within it. That means fans can develop an allegiance to a particular individual, no problem, follow their work, but the overall market can keep moving, finding new buzzes, the ‘cult of the new’ rolls on with the next novelty arising and then the consolidation phase, genre tag, then on.

By the time of Nirvana’s rise, the background wasn’t so much the decline of rock as it was the rising dominance of hip hop artists. The success of Nirvana relied on their merging the last fresh outburst in rock, punk, with the already accepted modes of mainstream rock. This had to occur because the wild activity occurring in the increasingly sub-divided and stratified rock community meant that despite a lot of creativity going on, rock was losing the mass audience. Jazz did the same thing; the acceptable core of jazz became fossilised while the creativity, fresh, new ideas were hard to incorporate into the original mass conceptualisation of what jazz was. Hip hop, however, has the virtue that it can change its sound to keep up with technology in a way that music dependent on particular instrumental tones cannot. As the only core feature of hip hop is rhythm, everything else can be altered while remaining acceptable — rock and jazz were both fixated on a particular set-up of instruments and specific sounds in a way that this new music is not.

The ability of hip hop to change faster, to incorporate more elements without losing its identity or becoming ‘something else’; these give it a survivability lacking in rock. Rock musicians can only incorporate so many other musical genres before becoming that genre or having to accept a change to the instrumental line-up that pushes the guitar off centre stage and morphs the music into another genre. Hip hop doesn’t do that. Hip hop has changed repeatedly; it adapted quickly to the emergence of indigestible 70 minute CD length albums, it was able to merge with modern R n’B to create a hybrid more marketable across genders with the result that most essential hip hop artists are now also dance artists, pop artists, gangstas, romantics, all at once — the individuals have fragmented their identities to match market niches…Or they stay on the margins and let the mainstream play.

The mixtape was the next level, prior to electronic distribution; an opportunity to build an audience without being reliant on physical performance — again, a business advantage over a rock band. Hip hop increasingly doesn’t ‘live’ in a corporeal, real world, sense; it was built initially on manipulation of the medium of reproduction and increasingly lives only within the modern media outside of the smallest micro-communities. Hip hop as a mass market phenomenon is a music of files, recordings, webcasts, downloads, CD-Rs, vinyl with only token gestures in the live touring arena. While rock artists are ever more dependent on live touring (live shows are the rock mixtape) hip hop artists are ever more dependent on building and then maintaining a core audience with an endless sea of downloaded or on disc product, free or otherwise, so there’s never a gap in service, unlike the few years that could elapse between rock band forays.

Mixtapes don’t really work in the world of rock; firstly street-level music distribution isn’t an accepted channel (for a comparison mixtapes never really took off in the U.K., there isn’t a big enough audience to make standing on a street corner or at a market justifiable), secondly the effort required to create the music is too heavy (the combined effort of X people working simultaneously) to sustain substantial give-aways, thirdly the ability to drag in up-and-coming performers to fill space cheaply is much lower. A band with an archive as deep as Sonic Youth can run short mixtapes via their website but they’re reliant on old demos and old live performances — the creation of high quality output cheaply at high speed isn’t an option.

Hip hop was, therefore, the end result of a thinning of performance ensembles across a lengthy period of time; the result of a musical reductionism that led to rhythm becoming the dominant feature which allowed a musical form to evolve that floated free of any particular instrumental line-up, tone or timbre with a vocal style that similarly devolved down to rhythm uber alles; the result of technological evolutions that created instruments ever more cheaply then merged the number of potential ‘instruments’ available into smaller, portable converged tools; the result of good quality recording technology and manufacturing technology being ever easier to access meaning more people could create quicker; an economic model in which people understandably wanted to sell more cheaper and easier; a market in which tastes do change rapidly therefore a music form in which investments can be more readily deleted is desirable. The world’s first million selling music release was Enrico Caruso’s Vesti La Giubba in 1907. In the one hundred years since, we’ve come a long way.

Rap is essentially musical capitalism, an omnivorous force able to ingest whatever it touches, incorporate it and churn it back out in a marketable form for whichever audience demographic they wish to target with it. A lot of capitalists like to claim that capitalism is a representation of nature, a Darwinian force ruined only by the interventions of outside forces that prevent it working smoothly and create the conditions under which corruption and inefficiency occurs. I’d argue that being a human being means imposing self-analysis and self-will on the Darwinian animal component of a person — that what distinguishes us from animals is standing above the pure force of nature. That’s my main objection to untrammelled capitalism; the economic system should serve the vision we have, we should reduce our vision and bring it down and down until it aligns with base functioning. What makes us human, higher beings, is choice and striving to rise above. Don’t mistake nature for a moral good or righteousness.

Kurt Cobain and Hip Hop Ubiquity

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When Public Enemy were nominated last year for the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum they explained that the band had “brought a new level of conceptual sophistication to the hip-hop album, and a new level of intensity and power to live hip-hop, inspiring fans from Jay-Z to Rage Against the Machine to Kurt Cobain.”

Beyond the desire to name-drop a still iconic superstar, the reference does display the one real indication that Kurt Cobain acknowledged the world outside guitar-based music. Public Enemy’s It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back featured on the list of Top 50 albums in his Journals as a sole representative from hip hop. It’s an easy album for non-hip-hop punk rock-orientated music lovers to like given the extreme sonics, the densely layered sound and the talented polemical vocals on display; it even earned Chuck D a Sonic Youth cameo. Cobain went so far as to state that “rap music is the only vital form of music introduced since punk rock,” which acknowledged its impact accurately, yet there was no cross-pollination — Nirvana’s music existed in a solidly guitar-based milieu with nothing bar that nod of respect.

On the other hand, however, acknowledgement of Kurt Cobain has become a relative commonplace within hip hop. Previous articles and online discussions have documented his presence within lyrics, in the past twelve months I’ve noted “you a broke N****, kill yo’self Kurt Cobain” from Waka Flocka Flame on Gucci Mane’s Trap God mixtape; Kayne West opting for “rocking flannels all summer like Kurt Cobain,” on the song White Dress (from The Man With the Iron Fists soundtrack); while The Game opted for “so strange had to blow they mind, Cobain” on the title track of Jesus Piece; the up-to-the-minute burst of “Kurt Cobain even died because you scrutinise” from A$AP Rocky song Phoenix released earlier this year. What’s immediately obvious is that these aren’t precisely highly inspiring lines. Hip hop’s level of engagement with Kurt Cobain hasn’t moved on at all since Eminem rapped “my favourite colour is red, like the blood shed from Kurt Cobain’s head” a full decade ago (Cum on Everybody.)

The references are far wider than the lyrics too; Tyler the Creator, almost tragically, displayed the deepest Cobain knowledge on display for referencing Kurt Cobain’s baiting of Rolling Stone. Tinie Tempah shows he’s taken his view of the world from PR-puff-piece reporting with the following January 2013 facile comments:
http://www.contactmusic.com/news/tinie-tempah-waiting-for-new-kurt-cobain_3437647

While Jaz-Z barely rose above that level in November 2012 with this snippet:
http://www.stereoboard.com/content/view/175763/9

The other week, in a comment on Nirvana-Legacy.com someone asked about the impact death has on the ‘love’ for a person; the presence of Kurt Cobain as a meme with hip hop is one of the consequences. No other figure from the world of rock music has even a fraction of this pull. His death, a cultural news event that was inescapable anywhere in the United States, was large enough to cross the musical boundary in a way that the mere success of a band like Guns n’ Roses, or the outrageousness of their frontman Axl Rose, was unable to. Timing is also crucial; John Lennon was the previous music world event of this weight but it took place before most of the hip hop stars of the past ten years were even born; this leaves Cobain as the reference.

Yet, despite having been allowed to penetrate the world of quips and quick studies that constitutes modern hip hop lyricism, it’s very clear that there’s no point taking seriously the depth of consideration given within any of the songs discussed here. There’s no piece of art here that has spent more than blinking time on their Cobain reference. What we’re witnessing is a consequence of the commercial nature of present hip hop which values the ability to pump out product at high-speed and therefore favours those able to slap together endless rhyming couplets over song-long (or frankly even verse-long) meditations on a topic. It’s not worth wasting emotion being worried about the depth of these song references when none of them constitute more than single bar of punch-line thought on any theme.

What we’re witnessing though does have interest. Firstly, we’re witnessing the impact of death on an individual. What occurs, and this is not a characteristic specific only to hip hop, is that they’re reduced to snapshots in a process of reduction and simplification. A non-musical example would be the way that Winston Churchill (at least in Britain) is barely more than a gruff-voiced metaphor for stubbornness and patriotism. An individual becomes a short-hand reference, a meme that everyone knows even if they know nothing else about the person being referenced. In the case of Kurt Cobain, the lyrics quoted summarise him as, primarily, suicide via a gunshot wound to the head. There are some that dredge up drug references, not even, necessarily, heroin. Kurt has simply become another all-purpose image, likely to die out inside of a decade as a generation for whom Kurt Cobain is distant past take the pop mantle, but serving, for the time, being as an easy rhyme and a quick way of saying blood and mess.

Slightly more disturbing is the way in which PR stories substitute for any contact with reality at all. Kayne West’s grunge-wear reference (*shudder*) doesn’t make it any deeper than a scan of glossy women’s magazines circa-1992-1993. The connection between Kurt Cobain and flannel is…A load of old flannel. What Kayne has absorbed is the sillier manifestations of the grunge explosion with Cobain having to wear all its results given he was held to be its figurehead. Similarly, Tinie Tempah’s, quite charming, desire for an individual to ignite and unite the world of music has absolutely no basis in reality. Cobain never ‘spoke for a generation’, he was never the voice of an identifiable and unified group, let alone for the full diversity of youth c1991-94. Again, the desire at the time to explain Nirvana’s rise by a reference to some brand-new social grouping, was an oversimplification used by the media and that has now been repeated so often that a man who was a mere nine years old at the time of Cobain’s death has totally absorbed it.

Jaz-Z’s curtailed history of hip hop’s rise in the early nineties has, initially, an appeal. Yet it too, ultimately, has no substance. He’s unable to equate a broad culture with anything other than chart success and PR-presence in the pop world. He can’t see that hip hop didn’t ‘pause’ in the slightest just because a few rock bands took a large share of a declining rock audience. A$AP Rocky, unusually given he’s the youngest of all the individuals mentioned, is at least closer to the truth with his one-liner implying that the loss of privacy was a factor in Kurt’s death.

I’d love to point to Kurt Cobain’s ‘realness’ — his absence of career-motivated fakery, his unwillingness to bow to the demands of PR — and make a link to hip hop’s fetishisation of that concept as a reason why he should be so acceptable to hip hop’s stars such as Lil Wayne. And certainly the musically omnivorous nature of hip hop means it’s no surprise a few of its denizens appreciate the music of Nirvana. But there’s not much depth to the connection, no more than there was when pop music went through its brief spell of ‘rock star’ catchphrase worship a few years back. It’s good Kurt Cobain meant something to them, but in terms of it translating into a genuinely imbuing of his anti-commercial spirit into the modern pop world…No. Hip hop, in its mainstream manifestations, increasingly speaks for a triumphant few who wish to parade their wealth; misogyny; aggressive self-centredness. While enjoying some of the music I often feel I’m the equivalent of people buying books by the CEOs who have just put them out of work just to learn the awe-inspiring truth that those bosses see themselves as unique individual successes based wholly on their own genius. Kurt Cobain never led the indulgent lifestyle of conspicuous consumption; never willingly exposed his whole life for PR benefit; ensured his political values (anti-sexism, anti-racism, anti-homophobia) were declared loud n’ proud on multiple levels and never wrapped his arms around business.

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Living Like a Rock Star

It seems that the idea of ‘a rock star’ has been whittled down to a final form easily recognised and described by everyone. It makes it hard, however, to recall how recent the clichés involved are. The entire industry of pop music, let alone rock music (a 1970s creation), didn’t exist until the mid-1950s. In retrospect the worship of Elvis, or the hysterical reactions to The Beatles seem hard to comprehend but in each case these artists were the first of their kind, there was no mould to be filled early in their careers and, afterwards, no template for what a mid-career music star should do or should behave. The association with sexuality (albeit a gentle sexuality at the time) began with Elvis; the drug connection (while quietly present within jazz) surfaced in The Beatles; the wildman image was already appealing and became a core part of the identity we’re describing here thanks to The Rolling Stones.

The Seventies solidified and deepened the ideal that had been forged. The drugs became omnipresent and almost celebrated as a sign of wealth and decadence. The sex became essentially a form of public display with groupies and orgies replacing the quieter awareness that flocks of girls were surrounding the stars. The bad boy image was fleshed out with destructive acts carried out on musical instruments or hotel rooms, flirtations with black magic or Satanism or whatever other flavour of the month would rile people. Again, while historical precedents can be found in the blues (whether Robert Johnson selling his soul or Lead Belly’s repeated arrests for violence) these elements only cemented into an identity at this point, one that would be worn like a uniform in the Eighties rock scene.

Punk stripped down the musical style and rejected the increasing move to omnipotent and untouchable rock god status — yet it did so by retaining the focus on certain core pieces of the, now established, identity; the violence, drugs, sex, the bad (and photogenic) behaviour all wrapped up in a package designed to appeal to an audience on lower budgets. Punk didn’t produce a brand new rock star image, it selectively embellished the existing one in the interests of accessibility – anyone could do it and it doesn’t take much effort to mimic something sordid. The same era also saw the question posed, for the first time, what does an aging star do? The answers were semi-retirement (Lennon), finding God (Dylan), vast over-indulgence (Elvis) or increasingly soft and friendly tunes and plenty of quality-lite collaboration with friends (Jagger, Bowie, McCartney) with the occasional death to spice it up and make it dangerous again.

The Eighties didn’t revolutionize this image; the Eighties were basically a blending of aspects of punk with the now stable vision of the rock stars. What occured instead was a constant escalation into cartoon realms; who could do what, with whom, who did the most – the image of the rock star reached its grand finale. With the mainstream model so rigidly defined, it was the first time there had truly been an underground bubbling away, an all-encompassing term for bands that departed from the image that would be promoted, funded, given access to recording facilities. A lot of the older generation, who had set the model, were now so firmly established that they were now core to the pop scene rather than living separately in a rock ghetto.

Nirvana’s ‘revolution’ was therefore less a case of a fundamental musical shift, it was about the change in the image. The music itself was a merging of existing styles, definitely radio-friendly, not that divorced from existing rock modes. But Nirvana explicitly rejected the rampant sexism, the charmless and nihilistic violence, the self-aggrandisement (marrying models, flagrant consumption, extroverted partying, fast cars…) It didn’t make them saints, or pure beings, but it was the first time a female-friendly, pro-gay rights, enlightened rock image had been projected in an uncompromised fashion since the age of The Beatles and Jimi Hendrix. Nirvana knew it too, they spoke again and again about their opposition to, and difference from, the established view of what it meant to be a rock star, how it was the music that differentiated them from heavy metal, how bored and played out rock was. The glitch in what they were saying was, however, that their problem was not one of music — it was about the entire concept of what being a rock star was. Nirvana didn’t tear down rock music, they tore down the ROCKSTAR.

Having shown how false the image was, it was impossible to put the idea of the rock star back together again. Kurt Cobain personally killed the heroin chic that had ruled since the early 70s by being brought low and, in the eyes of many, destroyed by it all within barely two years of the early 1992 peak of fame. The decline was so fast it retained the ability to actually shock; from peak-to-trough it had never been so swift or so submerged in sordid detail — the junkie baby rumours were important for a much broader reason which is that it killed the sense of deviant fun that had somehow survived even Sid Vicious’ ending (at the time seen as an overdose.) There had been drug deaths before, there had been long declines, but there hadn’t been many deaths while still firmly in the spotlight, few cases in which the grossness of the experience had been so visible to the public eye and so indefensible. It was hard to celebrate the drugs.

Kurt simultaneously wrecked the idea of the all-conquering rock God by abdicating his throne; rock stars didn’t quit, they were immortals who could only be destroyed by outside forces. Kurt Cobain ruined the ideal of the rock star as the most fun a man (almost always a man up to that point) could have by never ceasing to show he despised it. Others had reacted to fame by retreated from the spotlight but it had seemed an affectation that could only be afforded by the very rich; one they’d repent when they needed the income or attention and in the meantime they’d sit very nicely in their penthouses drowning in entertainments. Kurt was the biggest rock star in the world and just at the crucial moment when everyone was looking his way…He laid waste to a few of the clichés. It was fitting that his suicide came with both heroin and a bullet; symbol of hedonism and metaphor of manliness forever stained all in one fell swoop.

There’s not really been much since. Billy Corgan was the last rock star of the old mould but only on record, in person he was very much the new generation intent on hauling down the idol of the ROCKSTAR. The components of the image — drugs, hedonism, sex, self-aggrandisement, destruction — are all still there but the arms race that had flowed from the fifties onwards had ceased when Kurt Cobain one-upped the entire world. There was no way to top what he did, nor to restore the pieces he showed were simply laughable. The baton passed to the world of hip hop which has been busy running through a remarkably similar and tired tale at high speed from initial revolution, through excess, into cartoon, division into mainstream and underground, finally coming ending up indistinguishable from pop music and certainly with not an ounce of rebellion left in it.

Its why the article below stirred a certain nostalgia in me; it fondly reminded me that revolutions rarely demolish what came before, they either adopt them or mutate them into tweaked shapes.

Alternative all-stars join the 25th anniversary of Dinosaur Jr’s You’re Living All Over Me

Rock star guests, casual collaborations among old friends who share vanity labels and private studios, tributes to their own history, the ability to toss half-baked projects out on name alone, diversions into other business ventures and kids kicking off their own bands…It may be enacted by bands I adore, but it all feels kinda familiar. And all with the same friendliness the Travelling Wilburys or Live Aid brought to a previous generation.

The Return of Grunge?

History doesn’t repeat itself but the world of music certainly seems to. British newspaper The Independent featured an article on Saturday October 27, describing bands like Yuck, Splashh, Big Deal, Scott & Charlene’s Wedding and Cloud Nothings as the successors to grunge.

It seems about time. Music is generational and seems to work at a twenty year distance. With a lot of music so far this millennium harking back to the Eighties perhaps it’s time the Nineties got its say as the young children of the 1990s get to try and recapture the sounds of their first musical memories. One thing I’d point to is that publications related to grunge and its history exploded between 2007 and 2011; I count six different volumes about the history of grunge after a decade and a half gap in which no such treatments had existed or been attempted.

The article correctly points out the nostalgia trip going on in the music scene at present as a factor. Again, this isn’t uncommon. The existence of working musicians is, despite the stereotypes, rarely one in which money rains from the skies. Many bands find themselves back out on the road in their forties as the chance to capture new fans offers a last, oft overdue, payday. With so many bands from the late Eighties and early Nineties reemerging it’s understandable that attention is refocused on the musical period in which they worked.

I’d argue that the Nirvana anniversaries have been a factor too. The release of You Know You’re Right in 2002, then With the Lights Out in 2004 (the biggest selling box set of all time) showed everyone that fans still existed and there was still a market for alternative rock. Those bands who went away long enough for people to miss them had a second chance, those who wished they’d seen them got the answer to their wishes and that includes label heads who were able to resurrect their old favorites.

Perhaps its equivalent to the success of the two Expendables’ films. As there hasn’t been any major successor to the Eighties/early Nineties style action hero personified by Sylvester Stallone or Arnold Schwarzenegger there was an easy space to be filled. In the case of grunge, there hasn’t really been an equivalent arising to replace it.

Will new talent channeling the grunge period benefit from all this attention? It’s a question of whether old fans are looking for new thrills or just the old safe ones repackaged and reissued. Audiences are smaller these days though (while more global than ever) so it’s unlikely there’ll be another explosion. Similarly it’s hard to spark a revolution on repetition — nostalgia doesn’t lend itself to ‘great leaps forward’ but if the twist these new bands give to their sound makes it something new altogether…Well then there’s a chance.

Anyways, here’s the article link (working as of November 2012):

http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/music/features/smells-like-teen-spirit-all-over-again-8226824.html