My sister proved me right regarding my thoughts two posts back.

Album of the Year?  Outrageous!  Not.

Yesterday I was doing my usual Facebooking when I saw that my sister (a Boomer, no less) had made a post about how she couldn't believe that The Arcade Fire won the Grammy for Album of the Year.  She wondered how this could happen when there were so many other, "real" musicians out there who, I suppose, deserved it more.  I responded by saying that while the band is not a fave of mine, their popularity with their fans doesn't make them any less "real."

She then went on to cite Mumford and Sons, who did their little thing and then helped back up a groaning, growling Bob Dylan.  Now, you have to understand that my sister has basically claimed that she prays at the "altar of Bob Dylan."  I like Dylan myself, though I wouldn't choose the coot as any preferred rock deity to prostrate myself before.  And his performance was downright dull.  Mumford and Sons, on the other hand, are exactly the kind of folksy type of stuff my sister has always dug, which is fine.  You like who you like.

And as I said in my post about rock criticism, my age group can't be appeased these days because we're out of the market, which leaves us to bitch about the good old days, "real music," and the like that my sister's own ageism gladly spewed forth.  My original statement was satirical, mind you.  But her Facebook buddies were quick to chime in how they "didn't get it," either and had to turn off the TV.  Really?  You would think that with statements like that The Arcade Fire were some kind of dim-witted, no-talent hacks that were busy dry humping the wallets of all their fans.  But that isn't the case at all.  Though they don't exist in my music collection, having heard some of their stuff and seen what they can do, I'm not about to sit there and deny that they have talent and staying power.

"We're legit because we're REAL."  Oh, really?  How nice.

But my sis made the facetious remark of "In whose universe do they think they compare" to the likes of Mumford and Sons, et al.  Well, firstly, it's two different types of music.  You can't really compare a folkier group to a modern indie rock band.  Secondly, spouting such opinions just sort of proves that the listener can't be bothered with much that falls outside of their own musical safety zone.  To be sure, my sister even wondered how her 21-year-old son could think Lady Gaga was good.  Again, she misses the point.  And Lady Gaga is good.  She's going to be around for a nice, long time.

Now there's plenty of bands and artists I don't care for.  I enjoy getting a bash in on the likes of Radiohead or Bruce Springsteen at times.  But I don't not understand why those artists' fans love their music.  I can't fucking stand Nirvana and get tired of hearing their fans go on and on about how Kurt Cobain was a "genius," when he really wasn't, but there's no denying the impact the band had and the changes in musical climate that occurred when they came on the scene.

To growl or not to growl?  Wait, are you Tom Petty?

Truth be told, as I've gotten older, I've softened my approach.  There were times when I felt my opinions of music were "better" than others and that the stuff I listened to had more validity.  But good or bad, music is something that resonates with everyone in an individual way.  Why get "upset" about the likes of Justin Bieber?  He's corny, yeah, but the kid's made his mark, his money, and his fame.  It's not like he's going to just say, "OK, I'm done."  So it goes with all these other artists.  Pondering what made them popular or why their fans dig them isn't such a big mystery.  Pop music fashion is cyclical.  I've heard Dylan; I'd be more apt to dig a little deeper into The Arcade Fire's catalogue with some sincere listening and see if there isn't something I really liked.

By the way, my sister also really liked Michael Bolton at one point.

Five lyrically lazy pop tunes (with hits!)

Not every pop star can always be magically productive, be it musically or lyrically.  But sometimes our heroes crank out songs that can make us scratch our heads looking back at them.  Here are five tunes hand-picked by yours truly from some of my fave artists that just don't get me in any sort of rah-rah mood when it comes to the lyrical portion of the song.

1. The Beatles - "Love Me Do"

So simple a first grader could have written it (possibly with a little help from a friend).  In fact, it's so simplistic that it's no wonder Capitol and other US labels passed on The Beatles originally if this was one of the tunes offered up by the soon-to-be Rock Legends.  This is moon/June/spoon rhyming at its worst.  Granted, this was circa 1963, so it's to be expected...sort of.  Given the fact that the followup single "Please Please Me" was light years ahead of this tune (most notably at the song's bridge where Lennon rapidly fires off the lyrics), it begs the question how did it make #17 in the UK?  The Fabs even had better numbers they could have dished out like "Some Other Guy" whose sheer energy was plenty more exciting than that of "Love Me Do."  Maybe we should blame it all on George Martin.  Of course, he'd be the one being told what to do not long afterward.

2. Teenage Fanclub - "What You Do To Me"

The Fanclub made no bones about being fans of Big Star.  After breaking onto the charts with "The Concept" from their second LP Bandwagonesque, the band hit us with this tasty slab of #1 Record-inspired goodness.  Too bad, then, that the lyrics are fucking terrible.  "What you do to me / I know, I can't believe, there's somethin' about you, got me down on my knees /What you do to me /What you do to me / What you do to me / What you do to me."  Repeat.  Laziness at its worst, no matter how convincing the music was.

3. Bob Dylan - "All the Tired Horses"

Wow.  Dylan was so lyrically burned out by the time he recorded Self Portrait that even he couldn't be bothered to sing on this, the album's opening track.  "All the tired horses in the sun / How am I supposed to get any ridin' done?"  Who knows?  Just keep repeating it and have some ladies sing it for you, Bob.  Sure, picking anything from this album might seem like an easy target, but come on.  It does pick up a little later on.  Dylan's cover of Simon and Garfunkel's "The Boxer" also on the album makes Paul Simon sound like a hack.  Now that's funny.

 4. Lou Reed - "Follow the Leader"

After releasing the excellent Coney Island Baby in 1976, Lou Baby switched labels from RCA to Arista and crapped out the Rock and Roll Heart album for Clive Davis.  Oh, it's got its selection of really bad tunes ("I Believe in Love" is both unbelievable coming from Lou and also sounds like the rejected theme to some bad TV sitcom), but "Follow the Leader" has to take the cake all around.  Lou's band gets all sweaty, cookin' up a boogie that this time sounds like some rejected incidental '70s cop show music while Mr. Reed on Speed stammers such memorable lines as "Follow, follow the leader n-n-now / New York, New York City n-n-n-n-now-now."  Great, Lou.  How does the rest of it go, dude?  Oh yeah, "Oh, if you wanna dance / Hey, work up a sweat / Better, better, better get yourself a little romance / And you better, oooh / Get up a little sweat and a little romance."  Jesus, Lou, put down the drugs already, man.

5. Billy Joel - "We Didn't Start the Fire"

Who started it, then?  I'm one of Billy Joel's biggest fans, but damned if I can't even bring myself to put this on my iPod, or into a Billy Joel mix or ever feel the need to hear it ever again.  Billy's always had his critics, usually about his lyrics, but listing names and events off one after another does not make for inspiring listening.  Of course, that didn't stop us fans from shooting it right up the charts, either.  Go ahead, lay the blame on me.  I never gave much of a damn for the Storm Front album from which this was taken, anyway.  The only part of the whole thing that sticks in my head is "Communist Bloc."  So I must have blocked out the rest of it successfully.  Get it?  Haha.  Yeah.  OK.