Rock On - Music

“And with this Christmas wish is missed
The point I could convey
If only I could find the words to say to let You know how much You’ve touched my life
Because here is where You’re finding me, in the exact same place as New Year’s eve
And from a lack of my persistency
We’re less than half as close as I want to be

And the first time
That You opened Your eyes did You realize that You would be my Savior?
And the first breath that left Your lips
Did You know that it would change this world forever?

And so this Christmas I’ll compare the things I felt in prior years
To what this midnight made so clear
That You have come to meet me here”

It took me a while to start enjoying classical Christmas tunes, like Silent Night and It Came Upon a Midnight Clear. I loved it when my favourite bands wrote their own Christmas songs. Some of my long-time favourites were the Newsboys “Adoration,” Tobymac’s “This Christmas,” and probably the first one I heard, Rich Mullins’ “Gotta Wake Up.”

But when I heard this song by Relient K a few years ago, it threw every other Christmas song into the mud. The lyrics are Relient K’d usual outstanding poetry, and the melody is beautiful. The song is almost completely piano, something Relient K doesn’t do too much… but it’s surprisingly stunning. And while all these things have always been what make up my ideal type of music, it was the meaning of the song that blew me away.

Most Christmas songs tell the traditional story of Jesus in the manger. Don’t get me wrong, that is a great thing to sing about, and probably the most important event in history. However, after over 2000 years of Christmas music, you can only be so original. Other songs may tell a less specific story of the true meaning of Christmas; giving, loving, forgiving, thankfulness, and coming together. But this song was so different.

“To look back and think that
This baby would one day save me
In the hope that what You did
That you were born so I might really live
To look back and think that
This baby would one day save me”

It’s easy to imagine how the shepherds felt when they were visited by the angels. These lowly shepherds had nothing. Nothing to own, nothing to believe in. It must have been so easy for such poor kind to believe that someone had truly come in the form of a baby to save them. But what about the others? What about the three wise men? They were truly three of the most important people in the country at the time, and yet they not only traveled an immense distance to see a poor baby in a manger, they VOLUNTEERED. They brought three of the most important resources to a baby wrapped in rags born to a carpenter and his teenaged wife. I recently saw a cartoon that reenacted the wise men visiting the newborn Jesus. Joseph had said “Why are you giving frankincense to a baby? He’s just gonna put it in his mouth!” I laughed at the time, and I hate to turn every comical scene into a complex spiritual metaphor, but today, on Christmas Day, I realized how silly these gifts must have seemed to the people who didn’t know. Really, who WOULD give frankincense to a baby? Especially as rare and valuable as it was at the time. But these three wise men brought three gifts that were as sacrificial as physical gifts can get.

Anyone today who heard that a Messiah was born in, say, Bastrop, Texas, they would laugh, and THEN demand proof. Even if it were inspired upon them by divine revelation, hardly would they travel out to the middle of nowhere just to hope a real Messiah was there, much less to bring him pure platinum jewelry or a $100,000 Mercedes-Benz. Not a businessman, not a hobo, not Bill Gates. Yet these three men who were some of the richest in the country brought everything they owned to this baby that they had no certain proof was the Son of God. Gold, frankincense, myrrh, and love. Where has that kind of faith gone? The kind of faith that not only lowly shepherds had for their salvations, but the faith that the kinga and rulers of the nations had that they would bring all their earthly possessions AND their hearts to a tiny baby that could have been a rumour.

And as this song says, I really do wonder whether Jesus knew what He was born for the day he was born. I wonder even more if he personally remembered the nearly priceless gifts the three wise men gave Him. I wonder if He knew who those wise men were, who those shepherds were. I wonder if He knew who you and I were, or that He was going to grow into an adult only to die a terrible death for us, people he had never met and never would physically meet.

As time has passed, peoples’ faith has slowly disintegrated, and still is disintegrating as we speak. Yet, I know without seeing Him, without Angels to tell me, and even without some divine revelation that He would do it all again even if I were the only one to ever believe.

“And I, I celebrate the day
That You were born to die
So I could one day pray for You to save my life”

Merry Christmas everyone.
From me, personally, and universally from your Savior.

You, the online consumer of the written word, have many music blogs from which to choose. But this week, mine stands out from the pack, not because of what I am saying but because of what I am not saying. While virtually every other music critic alive, both professional and amateur, offers his or her pick for 2008’s Album of the Year, I will refrain from doing so. Why? Because I didn’t listen to new albums this year.

It’s a reality that caught me by surprise this month. For a whole year, I had listened to music at every available moment – before school, while doing homework, while driving – but had taken in shockingly few of the sounds 2008 had to offer. I had filled my iPod with albums that are older than I am, gathered secondhand vinyl at junk stores, and gravitated toward radio stations with a taste for “the classics.” Meanwhile, I hadn’t bought enough new albums to fill a “top ten” list. O, I had sinned.

Why had I failed so miserably to keep up with the musical times? Certainly, it wasn’t for want of interest. Just as I believe that “old” music should never be discarded on grounds of age, I hold no prejudice against the new offerings of the music world. My list of excuses for largely neglecting new music is long and mundane: I’m too busy. I still need to hear all the classics before I can immerse myself in the contemporary sounds they inspired. It’s okay if I’m not buying new albums, as long as I’m hearing new songs on the radio.

Indeed, as an avid FM radio listener, I pay special attention to new songs that grace the airwaves of my favorite stations. WFUV, the station that is practically my home on the radio dial, habitually plays new music alongside older material. Sure, my taste in modern music does not always coincide with that of WFUV’s programmers. Coldplay, for example holds little appeal for me, and I find Death Cab For Cutie positively cringe-worthy. Still, I have heard some excellent new songs on the radio this year: David Byrne and Brian Eno sound inspired on the singles from their recent collaboration Everything That Happens Will Happen Today, while The Knux’s hit “Cappuccino” is a welcome return to the vitality of hip-hop’s distant past. But I can say nothing about the albums these songs come from, because I did not buy them.

The time-tested theory behind radio exposure is that when I, the listener, find a new single pleasing, I will buy the corresponding album. When this process works as intended, all involved parties win: artists and record companies get paid for their music, radio stations maintain loyal audiences, and consumers find music that speaks to them. It is time for me to renew my participation in this universally beneficial relationship.

I am making a New Year’s resolution to stop making myself content with albums from the past and singles from the present. I will never abandon the music of years gone by, but in 2009 I will make it a priority to live in the musical moment. When I hear a song that I can connect with, I will take the next step and buy the album. And a year from now, I hope, I will have a selection to offer for 2009’s Album of the Year.

One quick word before my rant: This is my first post! So please don’t eat me. Seriously, that would be UNCOOL. On to the rant:

“Real” music. What is it? Is “real” music good lyrics, a good tune, good vocals, or putting ’soul’ into it? I’m an alternative rock lover, and if I’m gonna be dead honest, I can’t stand pop, hip-hop, blues, or (god forbid) country. AT ALL. So shoot me if you don’t agree, but in my world pop music is just a bunch of cookie-cutter wannabes jumping around on stage in front of a crowd of squealing little girls WISHING they were real rock stars. Now, before you open fire, I’ve been told (many more times that I care to count) that this isn’t exactly true. To some people pop music is just a more carefree, fun-loving kind of dancing music. And to those people rock, alternative rock, emo and (god forbid them) metal music are all just a bunch of depressed guys screaming in a microphone, trying WAY too hard to be edgy, WISHING they were the people up on stage in front of millions of fans. And hey, how should I know? But the point is, I think MY music is the “real” music, and every other person in the world probably thinks that THEIR music is the “real” music. So what, dare I ask, is the “fake” music? The young pop stars? The emo rockers? The old has-been playing 50’s music? And if we all disagree, does that make everyone right, or everyone wrong? Someone’s taste in music is like catching a glimpse into their soul: they might be fun and bubbly, or dark and deep, or maybe even quirky and old-fashioned. But for crying out loud people, who really cares! I have had person after person tell me that my favorite band (Three Days Grace) is nothing but a band of posers trying to be all moody and deep. Well maybe I love bands like that for all you know! Shouldn’t the fact that we all love music in the first place be able to create some sort of, I don’t know, bond? It shouldn’t matter WHAT music, only that each and every one of us feels something deep inside us when words are brought to life through a melody, something bigger than any of us could ever know. So it’s not about what music is “real” or “fake”, it’s how the music is brought to life in your mind. It becomes a part of you, however big or small that part is, and from that day forth you will share a sliver of a connection with every other person who felt the emotion that you did in that song. Becuase in the end, it’s music. No catagories, no stereotypes, no seperations. Just music, pure and simple.

In 1965, NBC decided it was time for rock n’ roll to have its own sitcom. Riding the wave of “Beatlemania” that swept the western world throughout the mid-60s, the network created a fictional band that mirrored the Fab Four right down to the artfully misspelled animal name. The Monkees, though short lived as TV characters, moved on to impressive success as pop stars in the “real” music world, scoring an impressive run of hit singles that still haven’t ceased to grace the radio airwaves. By the time they disbanded in 1971, they had paved the way for countless other TV-to-pop charts crossover acts, as well as my rabbi’s hairstyle.

But, like any other enduring species, the TV-produced music star was bound to evolve. Over 40 years after the Monkees first rocked the living room TV set, the music industry is still discovering new ways to turn fake artists into real money. While the Monkees’ success banked on smart, enduring pop songs as much as their on-screen personas, it is now possible to sell millions of records purely on the strength of meticulously calculated marketing. And where music publishing was once the domain of a few dedicated music labels, none of these now seem able to keep up with the Disney Channel.

With High School Musical and Hannah Montana, Disney took two seemingly innocent television productions and turned them into record-smashing phenomena. The High School Musical soundtrack outsold any other record last year in the United States, with the companion CD to this year’s High School Musical 2 also tearing up the charts. Hannah’s no commercial slouch, either; her “Best of Both Worlds” concert tour was last year’s hottest ticket, having sold out even faster than perennial road-king Bruce Springsteen. Want a prime ticket for one of Hannah’s shows when the tour stops in New Jersey? Nine thousand dollars on the ticket-scalping site StubHub should do it.

Disney’s key to manufacturing such unprecedented musical stardom for their TV characters is simple: know your audience. After years of creating shows for the pre-teen market, Disney knows just how to craft the kind of characters and plotlines that have turned the American youth into the world’s token couch potatoes. Add the right sprinkling of sing-along anthems, and an epidemic of obsession is born. It’s only logical, then, that fans of the TV shows will be happy to spend their allowance dollars on “albums” of songs from favorite episodes.

For the future of popular music, the implications of Disney-generated music transcend the contents of your sister’s iPod. Where fictional pop acts of yesterday were content to pay clever homage to their musical heroes, those of today are poised to stand aside them. For legions of young Americans, Hannah Montana is every bit as “real” as any other artist; her origins as a TV persona only add to her stature as a pop music icon. Meanwhile, countless off-screen musical talents continue to garner audiences but find themselves confined to a particular demographic of fans. Even those who score major hits are generally unable to cross the borders of generation and subculture.

Older music lovers may look upon all this with despair, ruing the day when Hollywood learned to corrupt the youthful idea of artistry. But have the Monkees of yesteryear truly evolved into chart-hoarding monsters? Or has the traditional music industry let its once-great circus of top artists degenerate into a sleepy petting zoo?

Despite the ongoing decline of record sales, today’s labels are unwilling to take the kind of bold, adventurous risks that once made popular music so vital and exciting. Top radio stations are content to play the same predictable sounds ad nauseam, while the most inventive acts have no greater champion than college radio. For the first time, millions of teens are losing patience with today’s hits and turning to the stars of their parents’ generation. When the music business seems bored with itself, it should hardly come as a surprise that the youngest listeners don’t feel compelled to stick with “real” artists.

Fundamentally, Hannah Montana and the cast of High School Musical are scarcely different from their predecessors. The use of TV characters to sell simple pop tunes has been central to every TV-produced musical act since the Monkees. How, then, did these adolescent stars overtake the position once reserved for the most elite musical talents? The answer has little to do with the performers themselves. Rather, the sickly music business has become so feeble and uninspired that an innocent gimmick is now enough to conquer its top position. It’s a reality that the dominance of fictional music in the mainstream has gotten out of hand. But if the music industry hopes to regain its footing on both commercial and artistic ground, it has bigger problems than Hannah Montana to face.

In America, the frenzied holiday season is perennial fodder for B-list Hollywood studios, a much-needed shot of espresso for the comatose retail sector, and an annual excuse to indulge one’s fondness for red velvet hats. But for some discerning music listeners, the season to be jolly amounts to little more than a Holy Headache. As some of us wish Jesus a Happy 2008th and others celebrate the miracle of long-lasting oil, we are all once again victim to a relentless onslaught of holiday-themed music.

If you wanted to survive the month of December without ever hearing a holiday tune, you would need to make some severe lifestyle changes. You couldn’t walk into a grocery store or a coffee shop, or even along the sidewalk of a commercial street. You’d have to plug your ears and run at the sight of pedestrians in groups, for these might be carolers. Television, of course, would be strictly off limits. And you wouldn’t dare touch your FM radio dial.

And for all that effort, you’d earn yourself a reputation as a social pariah. To most Americans, it would seem bizarre that anyone would want to avoid holiday music. Aversion to Christmastime fervor – Scroogism, if you will – is considered about as foreign to American culture as ritual foot binding. A real American, we are taught, has the warmth of heart to partake in the wholesome Christmas Spirit, and accordingly-themed music is part of the package.

Of all the types of conformity American society expects, this may be the one I find toughest to abide. It surely doesn’t help that I identify as a Jew, but what really stands between me and the Christmas Spirit is my distaste for the sonic trash that pollutes my musical environment this time of year. And though I do my best to judge all songs with a fair and open mind, I have grown convinced that holiday music is uncommonly derivative and predictable. Over the years, I have formulated the following categories for the easy classification of all holiday songs:

1. Winter Weather – Paradoxically, many holiday songs have little to do with an actual holiday. Instead, they espouse the defining meteorological feature of winter – namely, snow – and all the fun it entails. This category happens to include several of the most popular holiday songs of all time: “Jingle Bells,” “Winter Wonderland,” and Bing Crosby’s enduring smash “White Christmas.”

2. Santa Claus – Old Saint Nick may not be real, but you wouldn’t know it from the volume of pop music written in his honor. For the sake of convenience, we will classify all songs about reindeer in this category by association. Familiar examples: “Santa Claus is Coming to Town,” “Little Saint Nick,” and “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.”

3. Christmas Wishes – These most generic of songs have so little thematic substance that they can do nothing more than simply wish us a Merry Christmas. Think I’m exaggerating? Consider the following: “Feliz Navidad,” “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.”

4. Jesus – He may be the birthday boy, but the actual airtime devoted to Christmas songs about Jesus is comparatively slim. The best-known ones tend to be old seasonal hymns that predate the advent of recorded music, such as “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” and “Silent Night.”

5. Christmas as Proxy for Something Else – Record executives know that for two months a year, they can shove anything down America’s collective throat, so long as it contains the word “Christmas.” So we get listless, formulaic pop that uses Christmas as a front for something even more mundane, like a run-of-the-mill love affair or a child’s dental woes. Instructive in the phenomenon: “All I Want For Christmas Is You,” “All I Want For Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth,” and Jimmy Buffet’s wretched “Christmas In The Caribbean.”

6. Christmas as Comedy: Snobs like me enjoy making a mockery of Christmas music, but a few recording artists have beaten us to the punch. Weird Al Yankovic won laughs as usual with “The Night Santa Went Crazy,” but it’s hard not to feel a little sorry for Dr. Elmo, whose sole claim to fame is the omnipresent “Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer.”

7. Hanukah Songs – So far, Kwanza has been spared the trivializing effect of pop songs in the Christmas mold. Hanukah, sadly, has not been so lucky. Since most Jews can’t remember what Hanukah is about and most non-Jews never learned, popular Hanukah songs don’t get more specific than a vague allusion to “days long ago.” Three examples, all of roughly equal religious merit: “O, Hanukah,” “The Dreydel Song,” and Adam Sandler’s “Hanukah Song.”

I once believed that anyone who records Christmas songs is an incorrigible sellout, but I abandoned that theory because the list was so overwhelming: Springsteen, the Beach Boys, Sinatra, B.B. King, U2, The Supremes, The Beatles – heck, most of the great artists in the history of popular music have at sometimes turned to Christmas music. To me, these recordings represent the low points in the otherwise stellar careers of highly talented performers. Sure, there are those who claim that the intrinsic joy of holiday season forgives its trite soundtrack. Bah, I say. Humbug

P.S. My apologies for the lapse in blog posts. Entries will now resume with normal frequency.