Not long ago, one of my comrades in rock posted a Tweet that said something along the lines of “Kasabian is still a band? Oh, Britain you’re so cute.” (Apologies that I have forgotten exactly who said that – fess up and I’ll credit ya). Shortly thereafter I read this article at NME.com. Read it in full if you wish, but I will offer a synopsis: Kasabian frontman Tom Meighan laments the “death” of the rock star and places the blame on blog culture for taking the mystery out of celebrity. Moaning about how it’s not like it was in the old days of Marc Bolan and Bowie, he then jumps forward some 35 years to claim that blogging is the culprit. It seems to me that his argument is not only misguided but self-serving and even condescending. Presuming that he counts himself among rock’s stardomry, I would like to call his attention to the tweet above if only to illustrate the basic fallacy of celebrity. Furthermore, while Meighan doesn’t actually profess any concern for music or rock itself and only with the dearth of iconic superstars, it would be hard to argue that there can be rock stars sans rock. And so…
Let us take the bait and start with David Bowie as an example. To give Tom credit, 2nd only perhaps to Freddie Mercury, Bowie is a pretty perfect example of the Rock Star, and he’s definitely no slouch in the songwriting department. “Life On Mars” is unequivocally one of the greatest pop songs ever. After struggling through the late 1960s with a bland pop crooning career, Bowie cultivated an eccentric image for himself and indulged in showy alter-egos while creating some of his best work. It’s impossible to quantify the effect of this facade on his creativity and while it likely impacted his ability to garner attention and achieve great success, how much does that really matter in regard to the longevity and impact of the music?
Tapestry
On the other hand, take Carole King (thanks to The Divine PK for helping me choose the perfect foil to The Thin White Duke). Leaving aside the dozens of great songs she penned with Gerry Goffin in the 60s, her landmark Tapestry album alone is overflowing with pop perfection, yet she has cultivated nothing other than a career in songwriting, arguably advancing pop music in the process. Her lyrics – perhaps even more so than Hal David’s – elevated the love song to something with real heart and soul. And melodically, she is among the best. Meanwhile, her own public image is nothing fancy; she’s a “normal,” essentially private person. No great mystery (real or imagined), no drama, and no codpieces. And while she doesn’t get on the cover in Rolling Stone’s semi-annual greatest bands of the decade issue, her longevity is arguably as entrenched as Bowie’s (and her royalties likely higher).
Since demystification is Meighan’s main beef, we need one more example. While not a pop songstress, Kristin Hersh has made a subdued yet consistent career out of her eccentric music. At some points in her career she has garnered rockstar-esque response from her fans, but it seems highly unlikely it was manipulated on her part. And while there has been some drama in her life, she hasn’t ever been anything other than herself (or selves). In recent years she has taken a distinctly tell-all approach to her relationship with her fans. She posts about her family, her work, she even live-tweeted in the immediate wake of dear friend Vic Chesnutt’s death. It was powerful, raw, and very human. The conversation is often two-way and on top of all this, she provides music directly to her fans on a regular basis. She has, in short, built a quintessential anti-rock-star life. None of this has damaged her mystique, and indeed it has strengthened and likely extended (both in endurance and in commerce) her ability to retain an audience.
Ciao
So what, really, is the point of the Rock Star and what is to be lost by its death? If the point of music is just that, music, then rock stars have no bearing on the issue and never have. I’m not fool enough to completely discount the impact of personality in art; it’s inextricably linked by the fact of the emotion and indivduality required to create greatness. But the desire for superstardom – both on the part of the fan and the performer – is merely another manifestation of the cult of personality. If we are so offended by megalomaniacs like Mussolini, Ceausescu, and Hussein, why do we wish for similar characteristics in our popular artists? David Bowie today is – to some extent – just another wealthy Englishman. His recent musical output seems to neither tarnish nor enhance his legacy, and at best he’s got some level of cool-for-life cred to help him get press when he needs it. And that’s the nature of art. People have moments of greatness and moments of other-than-greatness. Everyone should be applauded for continuing to do what they love (assuming they love it, as conflicted as that relationship may be), and their relationship to the world ought really have nothing to do with it.
Hero worship is a thankless undertaking. Elevating someone for being mysterious or exceptional is leaving a door open for colossal disappointment. We’re all just flawed collections of atoms and shouldn’t be assumed to be superhuman. I’m pretty sure Simon LeBon is a buffoon, but that does nothing to change my opinion of his best output. In the aftermath of Woody Allen’s (categorically idiotic at minimum) behavior in the early 90s, some people crowed that only now did they realize how horribly puerile his films were. Really? It was all right there. Love ‘em or hate ‘em, he did not hide who he was. Deal with it. Judge him now, fine, but pretending that the artist’s actions in the present sully your experience 20 years after the fact is backward and likely says more about you than about them.
Maybe Mr. Meighan is just worried because his overblown sense of self-importance is undercut by so-called ordinary people and, worse, the growing cultural realization that we’re all ordinary people. Great songwriters are capable of being terrible people, record-breaking golfers are also prodigious adulterers, well-spoken presidents get “testy” when under pressure. Big shock here. I would say that the perceived cluttering of the airwaves with TMI will ultimately help to break down the walls of celebrity and make mystery (read obfuscation for personal gain) less and less desirable. Then, who knows, maybe people will just be a little more honest, ugly, and unpredictable and art will be all the better for it. The death of the rock star in the 21st century could be the best thing to happen to music since the New Romantic age. Bring on the funeral barge!
Nicely said, Aaron…i’m wearing my best black suit as we “speak.”
He’s saying mystery prolongs celebrity, but I don’t think that’s what he means. He’s more saying that it’s hard to revere people as gods when you’re hearing them natter on about what they ate for lunch. In essence, that commonality defuses stardom. Maybe with some (I bet you’d feel a lot more comfortable having a conversation w/Ms. Hersh than you would have if you hadn’t read her personal posts), but for others (Ashton Kutcher, Mark Cuban, Kevin Smith) constant posting of their everyday minutia has only made them more star-like.
Having said all that, it seems we enjoy finding new people to look up to — people who are star-like and unapproachable. And despite Meighan’s little rant, there’s a new one everyday. In fact, there’s a show on three times a week devoted to creating one.
Good points, Sander, but your last comment is supporting my thesis, I think. Idol creates “stars” out of ordinary people, people with no mystique, and that is its main appeal, I believe, and part of the “anyone can do this” culture that our friend in Kasabian seems to disapprove of. And again, my main question in response to his claim is really: what is the actual loss, what are we missing out on? Class-based society?