tragabigzanda wrote:Agreed...But I'll argue resignation is worse than indifference, at least when talking about fandom and value assigned to art. I'd LOVE to get to a point where I feel indifferent about PJ's music, and wouldn't feel so angry about them all the time.
Resignation strikes me as kind of pathetic, because it feels to me like a default setting for when one has become disinterested in finding new music, expanding horizons, blah blah blah. It's pretty hard for me to listen to something like Riot Act, then get excited for Dark Matter; but it's REALLY hard for me to listen to something like Flying Lotus, Steve Reich, Il Sogno del Marinaio and then get excited for Dark Matter.
What I'm trying to say is: Lots of great music out there, so why would I spend time with something that feels like a pale imitation of something else I already own and love?
I think about this kind of thing a lot. Logically what you're saying makes a world of practical sense, and yet my collection is full of lesser works by artists I love -- Neil Young/Promise of the Real albums that sound like cut-rate Crazy Horse jobs, Miles Davis albums from the early '80's that feel like cryogenic Bitches' Brew reanimations, Grateful Dead live albums from 1985 where Jerry Garcia could barely stand up straight, Eddie Vedder albums where he refers to himself as "Echo Victor," etc. Why is that? Why would I subject myself to such unpleasantness when these same artists have similar-sounding albums that are much better, or when there are so many other artists out there -- some of them presumably great -- whose music I've yet to explore? Why would I listen to any artist's worst album when I could be listening to some other artist's best album? In what universe does it ever make sense to listen to, for example, a record where Paul McCartney covers "My Very Good Friend The Milkman?" Why would I commit 3.5 minutes of my finite existence to such drivel?
I find, as I ask myself those rhetorical questions, the answers to them become relatively obvious: I listen to those albums because:
(a) my heart, my brain, and senses are hypersensitive to the virtues of these artists' work, even when those virtues are surrounded by shortcomings;
(b) despite the fact that the records may feel like "pale imitations" of previous records, as in they re-use certain elements and/or explore no new aesthetic or conceptual ground,
they aren't the same records -- they are different songs, made up of different chords and melodies and lyrics and instrumental performances, that capture different time/place experiences, different life sentiments, etc., and there is something valuable about being able to experience that kind of thing over an extended period of time with the same artist, equally but differently as there is to honeymooning with a bunch of different artist during their (most likely) similiarly transient best moments -- sometimes I think we really overstate the degree to which any record that contains twelve (or however many) entirely new songs can truly be a repeat of a record that came before it, despite how superficially similar it "feels"; and
(c) there is also something revealing and thought-provoking about art that authentically reflects human weakness, that exposes the tendency to chase transient fads and wayward muses, to make stupid aesthetic decisions, to create things that possess both positive and negative qualities, etc., which draws me in in ways that I find deeper and more compellingly complex than living endlessly in pursuit of the rush of being impressed by something "great" (which may not be an accurate characterization of this experience for others; at times, it has been for me).
None of this is to say, "stop exploring new music," or "settle for stuff that bores you"; it is only to say that the ranking spectrum, where everything exists on this linear plane of good-better-best, this album is "better than" that album, etc., is only one way to approach music appreciation, and in my life this has proven to be somewhat intellectually and emotionally limiting, even when I am compelled by it to superficially "broaden my horizons" by constantly looking for the next thing. And, don't get me wrong, I've always enjoyed checking out new stuff and probably always will; like many people here, I find it depressing to read people constantly writing off new music because they think it's inferior to the stuff they liked when they were in high school/college, and I find that stench of closed-mindedness to be one of the most cringeworthy (for you, Stip!) qualities a person can bring to a conversation about music. But I think it's equally short-sighted to not recognize what a gift it can be to be able to engage with an artist over the course of a lifetime, such that you really get inside the body of work and understand it, ups and downs, successes and failues, warts and all; it feels like one of the fruits of a long life, a reward for patience and curiosity, with as much potential to edify as to entertain.
People talk about "expanding horizons" as though it is this character virtue that is only achieved through voraciously consuming more and more different kinds of music (or food, or film, or whatever). I feel like this is a bit of a myth. You can learn a lot about the world by being a world traveler; you can also learn a lot about the world by being a geologist. Both have desireable rewards, and both have limits. I imagine we're all combinations of the two to an extent, but I appreciate that there are people who can make surface level recommendations about thousands of records, while also appreciating that there are people who know individual artists' catalogs deeply enough to write books about them, to keep their archives, to seek out and share uncirculated material, etc. It takes all kinds.
. I prefer Broken a bit more start to finish, but Revival is the best song on either record
Nice list