Can you go wrong with any song from Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga? The answer is no. Unless you go with "Eddie's Ragga." In that particular case, you indeed can go wrong. More like Eddie's borophyll. Am I right everyone?
Regardless, if Phil Spector was still spending his time focusing on innovative production techniques, rather than shooting b-movie actresses, this might be the result. It's a fact: Chimes have never detracted from a song's quality.
Earlier this week, Metacritic declared Spoon to be the artist of the decade, based on the average review scores from the four albums they released in the 2000s. I can't argue too much with that pick, but the logarithm that they developed to reach the conclusion seemed too nerdy for me to even bother deciphering.
I'm a big fan of Black Cab Sessions, as it answers a question that has haunted mankind since perhaps the beginning of time itself. Does music sound better when performed in the back of a British taxi? The definitive answer: I guess so?
And now, a completely unrelated thought of the continuing glory of The Room.
Between Spoon and Fastball, I wondered if Elvis had somehow infiltrated the water supply of Austin in the late 1990s. Fortunately, Spoon has not only expanded their sound in the years since, but Britt Daniel has even confronted the Elvis comparison head on, as he showcased in his acting "debut" in one of the long lost UPN staples. Who among us doesn't love rock star cameos featuring title character-based karaoke humor? Especially when Daniel's only two lines of actual dialogue are delivered with such non-actorly smoothness.
Pop music for the most part is a redundant art these days. There are only so many chord progressions you can go through before you start repeating something that likely was done many times before by many other artists. The smaller nuances and melody variations are what allow G-Em-C-D to be used literally thousands to times on commercial singles without many accusations of plagiarism.
Yet from time to time, the charge of being a copycat is leveled against an artist, usually on the basis of similarities within the melody more so than chord progressions or rhythmic similarities. And for the most part, it seems that the public reaction to such a claim has more to do with the parties involved than with the actual work at hand. For example, take these three recent cases into consideration.
Coldplay vs Joe Satriani:
Satriani sued in December, but what's interesting here is that most people's opinion on the musical similarities has less to do with the melody at hand, and more to do with their opinion of Coldplay. That is to say, those who love Coldplay think a claim of plagiarism is absurd, but those who hate Coldplay couldn't be happier to have another reason to find their music abhorrent. The fact that a respected musician is going after them adds to the intrigue. Everyone knows Satriani is one of the most amazing guitarists living, and yet nobody actually likes his music. He just seems like someone with credibility to music critics and middle-aged cover bands. Expect a similar reaction should Steve Vai ever sue anyone.
U2 vs Escape Club:
Some have compared the new U2 single to Elvis Costello's "Pump It Up" or Billy Joel's "We Didn't Start the Fire," but these comparisons don't hold water, because both those songs are far better than this. Remember four years ago when "Vertigo" was being shoved down America's collective throat? It was awful, but it was a semi-original kind of awful (or at least as original as U2 gets anymore.) This song is awful, but is also derivative of a song that was universally regarded as terrible when it was first released twenty-five years ago, when Escape Club themselves were accused of ripping off Elvis Costello. There has been no lawsuit filed as of yet, presumably because the members of Escape Club figure that any monetary gains will be outweighed by reminding the public that they are in fact members of Escape Club.
It should be pointed out however that not all plagiarism is worthy of ridicule. In many ways, judgment of stylistic rip-offs is dependent on whose style is being ripped off in the first place. It's not just the case when it comes to music. Critics of Paul Thomas Anderson would point out that his ambitious tracking shots are derivative of Martin Scorsese, but that doesn't make them less impressive. There are fewer ways to re-invent the wheel, so if you have to imitate, you might as well imitate the best, right?
This was on my mind as I recently heard the title track from the new Kelly Clarkson album:
That bass riff sounds downright Spoon-tastic, does it not?! And yet ultimately, it's a killer pop song. When I heard this, I didn't think "She's totally ripping off Spoon." What I thought was "I wish more bands and singers had more songs that sounded like Spoon." FM radio/MTV/ABC dramas would be enhanced if their soundtracks consisted of better music, so if that happens as a direct result of co-opting aspects of better bands, then we come out ahead, don't we? Ultimately, perhaps that's the key with pop music. Everything is going to be lifted in some way from something that came before it. But who it's being lifted from makes a difference.
This past Saturday, I was able to check yet another band off my list of "Favorite Bands I've yet to see live" list (Rilo Kiley and The Shins, you're next). Spoon came to Indy to rock and/or roll the house, and for once, Indy lived up to the honor. Oftentimes, musicians skip Indianapolis despite our "crossroads of America"convenience. We don't have the musical heritage of Nashville, or Chicago, or Cleveland, so they skip us. We also don't sell out shows that should. Mick Jagger refuses to bring the Rolling Stones to Indy because the last time they did, their show didn't sell out the RCA Dome (Hoosiers hate peacock impressions). Anyway, in the last few years, things have picked up a bit. I snagged two tickets to this show just days before it sold out, so my friend (we'll protect their anonymity and just call them Foy) headed to the show.
Here is a list of things that Foy and I learned while at the Spoon show:
#1: Maracas make every song 30% better. If the maracas are yellow, bump that up to 40%. If the yellow maracas are thrown offstage at the crescendo of the song? 50% better, guaranteed!
#2: People-watching is half the fun of concert-going (Foy has a God-given talent for this). Sure, it's all about the music. Only it's not. It's also about watching people try to dance. It's about the 60-year-old gent standing in the back, bopping along to "You Got Yr Cherry Bomb." It's about the growingly drunk, balding, 36-year-old who knows every word and acts out the lyrics as if he's leading the hand motions at a grade school liturgy. It's about the boyfriends who were forced to come and appear to be in a slight coma, while their girlfriends get all hot and bothered (though, in the end, this probably works to the boyfriend's advantage).
#3: Spoon seems cater-made to my concert tastes. They played the songs relatively true to form. There was minimal banter in between. They weren't alienating the crowd by telling inside jokes on stage or talking to each other during songs. They weren't wasted. They played their songs, nice and tight, and moved on. Here's their set-list:
1. Don't You Evah
2. Chicago At Night (Though Spoon was a relatively new band for her, Foy recognized this one before I did. I then buried my head in shame)
3. Someone Something
4. My Mathematical Mind
5. Stay Don't Go
6. The Ghost of You Lingers
7. Eddie's Ragga
8. Jonathon Fisk
9. Everything Hit's At Once
10. You Got Your Cherry Bomb (this is when the maracas went flying)
11. Black Like Me
12. Don't Make Me A Target
13. They Never Got You
14. I Summon You
15. The Underdog (my favorite song of 2007, and even without a horn section, it still delivered)
16. Finer Feelings
Encore
1. Don't You Evah (yes, they opened the encore with the same song they opened the show with. I don't think I've ever seen this done before. They played it in a more subdued manner, and then credited Ted Leo, saying they learned it from him. I'm not hip enough to know what that means)
2. I Turn My Camera On (again, Foy kept beating me in the "name that tune in 'however many' notes" game)
3. Rhythm & Soul
4. Small Stakes
5. Panic (Smiths Cover)
I was expecting them to end with "Sister Jack," but this cover was an appropriate end to the night. On weekends, the Vogue schedules concerts early, opening the doors at 6:30 pm, so that they can have the rock show, then sweep everyone out by 10:00 pm, give the club a quick once-over, and then re-open at 11:00 pm as a dance club. This is usually awkward for both the audience (who find themselves out on the street with the whole night ahead of them) and the band (who, as Spoon said, had 4 hours to kill until they had to be back at the bus). So it wasn't a surprise when the crowd went berserk as Britt Daniel sang "Burn down the disco/Hang the blessed DJ/Because the music that they constantly play/IT SAYS NOTHING TO ME ABOUT MY LIFE"
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