I am 60. Without a combination of insatiable curiosity and some crazy luck, there is a probability I could have ended up in the dumpster fire of the shrivelled mindset of legacy music journalism. That, you know, rock music is dead. It is not. The journalists are. There, I just saved you the trouble of reading the rest of this article.
My latest book, Sonic Seducer: Lust For Life With Our Heaviest Moments, Memories, and Magic of Rock and Roll, has many themes. One of them is the constant evisceration of musically dead critics who are selling nothing but bullshit. That’s because they are selling themselves.
Here is an excerpt from the book that riffs on that with exactly zero punches pulled:
So as wave after wave after wave of fresh, sonic brilliance began piling up in my already crammed library of rock and roll history, I could only smile and shake my head at the impossible idea that rock was not capable of getting heavier, deeper, wider, wiser, moodier, dreamier, dirtier, hotter, and downright sexier over time. Yes folks, rock and roll has a license to capture all these emotions. Sorry, Boomers. That license didn’t expire in 1972. Sorry, Gen Xers. It didn’t expire in 1992. As the Ozzy song goes “You Can’t Kill Rock and Roll (1981)”.
Some might think rock is dead. It’s not. And guess what? Just like science, it doesn’t care what you believe. It just goes on, evolving and becoming more expansive and illuminating. The best songs, the ones that cast a magical spell of lasting feelings, are the result of the organic evolution of the aforementioned feelings/ emotions over time. The truth of this lives free of mass acceptance, award shows, asinine Rolling Stone polls, or celebrity music critics. Killer music doesn’t negotiate through these channels of constipated commercialism and self-imposed musical imprisonment.
Truth is not what you want it to be.
Let’s Imagine this for a minute.
Let’s say there is a panel discussion of the greatest television series of all time. Everyone on the panel has proclaimed themselves to be experts in this genre of knowledge. Shows like M.A.S.H. and Roots are suggested by a few folks. Excellent choices. When it’s their turn again, they mention Cheers, Miami Vice, Hill Street Blues, etc.
It becomes apparent that these people are not mentioning any shows in the 21st century.
When someone asks them why they didn’t mention LOST, Breaking Bad, Mad Men, or Sons Of Anarchy, they tell you they never heard of those shows.
Imagine the look on people’s faces. This is an unchecked reality that mainstream music journalists belch out every day. Take your pick
Whether it’s longtime Rolling Stone journalist David Fricke, annoying self-promoter Eddie Trunk, out-to-lunch Rick Beato, or fossilized Rick Rubin, they ALL are speaking and writing from a dwindling romanticism of when they thought rock was cool. It was cool.
It’s cooler now. Way cooler. In fact, this period of heavy rock ‘n’ roll is the best it has been since the Ziggy Stardust days of David Bowie, when rock music was wild, free, and unhinged.
Free is back. So are the freaks. So is fuck off.
Last month, I saw France’s SLIFT, a name that the journalists I mentioned, all ironically around my age, would draw collective blanks at.
Maybe if their brains weren’t preoccupied with pressing questions like “What’s the final verdict on GNR’s Chinese Democracy?” or “What’s Kip Winger up to?” they might get a glimpse that the rock ‘n’ roll world has evolved far past such pedestrian inquiries.
SLIFT are simply one of the great live acts in the world. It’s not a debate. Well, unless you want to look stupid, it is. Here is some proof. Imagine Pink Floyd at Pompeii with an acid trip going sideways–quickly.
But they are just one of dozens of great bands from around the world.
So is Sweden’s Dozer. So is Norway’s Slomosa. So is Germany’s Colour Haze. So is Greece’s 1000Mods. So is Italy’s Black Rainbows. I could go with this geography lesson, but those who are terminally ignorant–willfully or not–of the current landscape of rock ‘n’ roll are living in a world where a country like Germany isn’t unified, and the Sunset Strip still has Vince Neil strolling up and down it.
The connecting thread in all of this is that journalists who do not evolve are exposing themselves as being above the music, that somehow it’s more about them. I recognize ego and celebrity because I live in a world of mathematics where there has been an outbreak of math educators promoting themselves over mathematics.
Take all of the legacy journalists and add up all their collective knowledge about rock ‘n’ roll, and it will still be dwarfed by people like JJ Kozcan (founder of The Obelisk) or Todd Severin( co-founder of Ripple Music).
You say you have not heard of them? That’s right. Because they don’t promote themselves, expending energy maintaining their voice first and curiosity for new music last.
Correction. Curiosity for new music never.
Even if any of the people I referred to in this article read any of this, they will not know how to react. That is because, at least in terms of music, they are illiterate and they would be in shock to fully comprehend the falsehoods of their positions and platform.
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Dad Rock Is Dead Rock: The Constipated Gatekeeping of New Music first appeared on
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