Hail to the Thiefs

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.

Back in Gear

Album release day is a holiday of sorts. For music fans it's a culmination of a journey, beginning when you first hear that one of your favorite bands are back in the studio. The waiting game begins... New songs are being written! They're moving to another studio! The demos are adventurous and edgy! The song list has been finalized! Sequencing and mixing are complete! Artwork! We have artwork! When release day finally comes (and you've gone through the self-discipline of refusing to listen to leaked versions on torrent sites) it can be like getting an extra birthday - and one that sometimes can even come several times a year. The quality of that gift can vary of course. Sometimes the gift takes a band that you had a middling interest in, and launches them into the stratosphere of musical giants (see: Z.) Sometimes it treats you like an out of touch aunt, taking something you once held sacred and making you now feel like a fool (see: Make Believe.)

Or sometimes, like today, the gift simply offers a reminder about how we are drawn to bands in the first place.

For the past decade or so, R.E.M. fans have watched the band ceremoniously fall from grace. The commercial failures haven't been that important, although it never went without notice that suddenly their 1980's counterpart U2 was suddenly once again the "biggest band in the world," after two inexplicably sub par albums. But U2 could get away with that. When you're as desperate to remain famous as Bono, you can convince people that you're still relevant, whether the music backs your point or not. R.E.M. did not have that luxury. They never wanted to be rock stars, they just wanted to be a band. The flaw with this mindset, however, is that when the music is uneven (as Reveal was) or just adult-contemporary swill (Around the Sun), you have nothing to fall back on. They couldn't keep shoving a horrible single down people's throats via iPod ads because they had always been a band selling music above image, so when the music doesn't hold up, you just have four normal looking guys from Athens, not..well...this guy.

But the R.E.M. resurgence begins with Accelerate, and thus far reviews seem to be solid. It's not an earth-shattering sonic overhaul, but neither is following the lead of resting on past laurels. It's simply a welcome reminder that the band actually can make a great album without Bill Berry (something that since 1999, I've thought would probably never happen again.)

My all-time favorite R.E.M. clip is from 25 years ago, and it's my favorite for several reasons.

• It shows how different late night shows are today when compared to 1983. This was their 2nd song of the broadcast, which you would never see today, especially with the host interviewing the band in between songs.
• On that same thread, what band plays an untitled, not yet recorded song on their national TV debut? This is what happens when bands decide what they should play, as opposed to record execs.
• It's a reminder that Michael Stipe was once actually camera shy, as he hides behind Peter Buck, piping up only to name drop Herschel Walker.
• The awkward banter is nothing less than compelling. Letterman really wants to get to the bottom of what's going on in Athens, and will not accept "Nothing" as an answer.
• A young Mike Mills still has "rock star" written all over him, doesn't he?