US vs UK

by Al Cottrill

Wed:30-Jan-08

Something is rotten in once mighty Brittania. Where once was found world-beating bands; bands who were at the forefront of scenes, creating genres, leading by example and influencing the world, now finds a scene mired in fad: the boom and bust cycle at critical mass. Through British invasion rock, heavy metal, punk, art-rock, new wave, new romantic, rave and Britpop, the UK have wielded influence beyond their size. Yet in 2008, there is little positive that can be said, and it has been this way for some time now… There has long been a see-sawing relationship between the USA and UK. Every five to 10 years the power base shifts and the hype finds a new target. From the American underground alternative of the mid-80’s, bands like Husker Du and The Replacements (it is worth drawing a line around this point, the time around which music videos took hold, and ‘scenes’ developed with the diversification of popular music and forums for communication), to Thatcher-era New Order, Smiths, Happy Mondays, Primal Scream and Stone Roses to the Seattle grunge of Mudhoney, Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Soundgarden, to Britpop of Blur, Oasis, Pulp et al; at different points, the world’s ears were focused on one country or the other. Yet since the turn of the century, there has been a clear, undeniable shift towards North America. In the same time, ‘indie’ music (admittedly a term with more cultural and psychographic meaning than musical form) has experienced its renaissance, emerging from the shadows of the mainstream into an actual commercial force. From America’s Bright Eyes, Sufjan Stevens, New Pornographers, LCD Soundsystem, Wolf Parade, Animal Collective and Spoon, to the nearby British Columbia homes of Arcade Fire, New Pornographers, Broken Social Scene and Stars; the long tail is truly wagging. But where is the UK in all of this? Unfortunately, the answer is mired in faddish rock and manufactured pop, fawning over scenes and displaying an ovine-esque obsession with following the latest craze (new rave anyone?). Before you go pointing out your favourite British bands, note their short helms at the top of the pops. As Ed Butler pointed out in his review of Six Nation State last week, “2005 saw Bloc Party, Franz Ferdinand, Maximo Park, Futureheads and the Kaiser Chiefs reprise '80s new wave, only for the movement to collapse in the space of 18 months, and Bloc Party to staggeringly miscalculate their efforts to reinvent themselves last year.” This is even more pertinent when the critical responses to the second efforts of these bands ranged from lukewarm praise to outright dismissal. If anything, this is a monster of the UK’s own making. Beginning with Britpop, the English press have had a field day with making and breaking new bands, turning one-trick ponies into megastars, even if it was only within their own backyard. From this launch, fame and fortune was theirs for the taking, yet so too the infamous trappings associated: drugs, girls, booze and egos. Despite Britpop’s enduring status as a reference point for English music, it is often forgotten that most of these bands made it huge on the strength of their first albums, most stumbling on the second, and if not, collapsing on the third. Stone Roses, Elastica, The Verve, all fell quickly by the wayside (and those are the most remembered), said trappings knocking their legs out from under them. While their legacies may be strong, they are still only the result of single albums. Only a few survived with critical opinion intact: Spiritualized, Suede, New Order and Blur; the latter a result of their shift towards slacker-stylings and world music. Yet the English press continued its obsession with the ‘Next Big Thing’, particularly NME, whose rabid reputation outside of its own sandbox is a constant source of condescension. Pop will eat itself, but the British have taken the boom and bust cycle to new levels; who knows if the Kooks, Fratellis, Wombats, Klaxons, Editors or Horror will even create another album, let alone garner anything like the attention their debuts did (and the next rung down are not promising buckets: Paddingtons, Little Man Tate, Rifles, We Are Scientists, iForward Russia). It is a fickle time for a band in an internet world, but the British obsession with consuming and discarding music is like no other. Certainly, North Americans have their blog-mass, but its emphasis is on first discovery and new music rather than Next Big Thing. Where the US and Canada have nurtured their scenes, from the Pacific Northwest to New York, allowing bands to grow from a strong base, supported by likeminded record labels committed to quality over hype. This in turn has formed a power-in-numbers scene, with comparatively moderate individual commercial success belying the market strength of a heavyweight when combined. Tellingly, Pitchfork are the derivative of much of this hype; indie’s status growing in parallel as it anoints tomorrow’s successor. Thus, some of this American emphasis can be justified by Pitchfork’s greater weight and penetration within its own locale. For this reason, the closure of Stylus Magazine is a further blow to the credibility of UK indie, now left with little in the way of internationally accessible indie publications. There are two phenomena, or perhaps derivatives, of this ‘problem’. Firstly, one cause of the UK’s relative barren indie scene is less concerning. In fact, for music as a whole, it can only be described as an evolution, and for this, indie fans should be less critical. British music has always thrived on the class struggle, their society’s divisions as strong as India’s caste system, if less formal. With this explicit identity, the working class has always found expression through music, and many of the UK’s greatest bands have been just that. In many respects, this still occurs; it is only that the mode of expression has changed. No longer is rock music the war-cry, having long since lost its rebellion and relevance as a forum for social comment. Instead hip-hop, grime, dub-step, hyperdub, breakbeat, electro and of course, drum & bass, have become the choice voice for the voiceless. These styles maintain their edge, their credibility, their aggression and their aura. The council estates do not see rock music as their raison d’etre. Instead Burial’s hyperdub, Dizzee Rascal’s grime and Plan B’s hip-hop are perfect cross-over examples of this expression: a combined result of a backlash against the homogenisation of English rock and the increasing influence of the UK’s greater multiculturalism. The other issues however, are more destructive. Within rock itself, there are two problems: bands are either set on looking backwards, intent on ipso facto revisionism of the glory days; or they are intent on following the latest ‘big’ band to success. While the first is a common problem, in British rock it is a disease. In an article for Uncut, critic Simon Reynolds blamed Britpop’s “nostalgic jingoism and implicitly racist flight from contemporary multiculture…” for the tepid state of British rock. (The article can be found in his collection of writings, Bring the Noise: 20 Years of Writing about Hip Rock and Hip-Hop (2007)). Seven years have passed, and little has changed. And for those chasing the latest ‘big’ bands, most are doing themselves more harm than good. In searching for a global sound that translates across the Atlantic, we have seen a homogenisation of British rock and a lack of identity in the bands that do succeed short-term. In many senses, British rock music has lost its inherent ‘Britishness’. Reynolds also points to the UK’s “Make it Big at All Costs ethos, which made the pursuit of innovation for its own sake unfashionable”. The success of Coldplay has seen many imitators, with some, like Keane, extremely successful in the short term. This push towards a ‘stadium’ sound strips any identity from this music, removing location and local reference. And herein lies the problem: with this obsession with being big, everybody wants to sound like someone else, whether it be revisionist pillaging of the English rock canon, or derivative styling after the latest hit. All this means, is that everyone sounds the same, and the resulting sound is one void of innovation, multiculturalism, variation, external influence and excitement (the main exception being Damon Albarn, whose ongoing integration and exploration of world music, subversive pop and hip-hop through his various enterprises is nothing short of a true pleasure). Of the true UK success stories, currently Arctic Monkeys stand alone. And it is really a shame, for when British music is truly ‘British’, rather than finding it insular or alienating, international audiences love it (the estate oration of The Streets, Lily Allen and Jamie T. perfect examples). It carries with it a strength of identity and accent difficult to find elsewhere, a legacy of a culture thousands of years old. From this it provides variation, for the mundane can become exciting, given texture by the intricacies of British location  (e.g. The Coral’s Scouse shanties achieve this through sonic rather than lyrical reference). Much of Arctic Monkeys appeal is in the accent, the local references and their undeniable Britishness. Everyone knows the Arctic Monkeys are from Sheffield, not because of their fame, but because it is so present in their music. Despite cultural cringe or a pandering to international homogeneity, the expression of identity, whether it be Welsh, Scottish, English, or a shire thereof, is essentially a positive attribute. Bloc Party’s A Weekend in the City comes to mind, an admirable attempt at instilling their sound with place. While it is unreasonable to expect every band to sing about their hometown, identity is still an incredibly important part of music, and many bands seem ignorant as to the extra depth it provides. Velvet Underground would be nothing without New York, Springsteen is American small town embodied, and (to give them more editorial air-time) The Hold Steady have built a career on the twin cities of Minneapolis-St. Paul. None of these can be separated from their location. There is one simple answer of course, but one that is almost impossible to invoke in an environment of succeed-at-all-costs-if-only-for-15-seconds: A return to the basics. To apprenticeships in local pubs, to songwriting grounded in something, anchored to the band’s voice, accent and identity, to singing about experience. Muse may sing about the ‘Knights of Cydonia’, but most bands can’t. Most of all, it is essential that bands stop trying to be someone else. In North America, where the indie scene has blossomed, the current renaissance is not based upon a particular sound, theme, statement or M.O. Where Britpop was rooted in the sounds of British Invasion and punk, and nihilism and distortion were the obvious hallmarks of Grunge, this current wave of indie scenesters has nothing in common beyond the blessing of Pitchfork and the blogosphere. From Battles to Beirut to Broken Social Scene, Sufjan Stevens, Spoon and Stars, the sound draws from all areas. The variation and cohabitation of this scene is actually its strength, making pigeonholing difficult and style-based fads inapplicable. Bands form other bands, splinter groups and solo projects, and the sense of community is palpable. Between New Pornographers and Wolf Parade there are more than 10 entities, Broken Social Scene alone yields another 16 or so. Perhaps with the slow, vulgar implosion of the big four record labels, a return to craft over craze will become inevitable. As record sales fall, new distribution channels will become important, and a diversification implicit. We can only hope, for at its best, British music has wit, identity and meaning that is unmatched in the Western world, and quality, indie manifestations of it are sorely missed. Tags See All Tags

 

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