s with most years, 1998 was one of contradiction and conflict, rapture and wretchedness, flotsam and jetsam. The world of pop is, arguably, more diversified - or fragmented - than ever. You've got electronic music and roots rock. There are glam-metal and soft soul. There are blues-based jam bands and tightly coiled punk bands. The octopus that is pop reaches in every direction.
Year of the woman
Courtney Love's full-frontal attack with Hole. (Globe Photo / Thomas J. Hurst) |
The mainstream, by definition, is whatever is popular, and many genres were represented in that broad stratum in 1998, from in-your-face hip-hop to smooth country, from gushy pop crooning to hard rock. Method Man, Garth Brooks, Mariah Carey, Madonna, Marilyn Manson, and Metallica - all bestsellers. Soundtracks, featuring music from all different genres, proved immensely popular, indicating the public's preference for a collection including at least one hit song over an album of 15 or so songs from the same artist.
In general, the mainstream morphed into something softer, something like musical comfort food. For fans of rock 'n' roll that lives closer to the edge, this is not necessarily a bad thing. If edgy music - post-punk, post-grunge, alternative, whatever - connects less with middle America, so be it. Looking back, there was something weird about arenas packed with youths waving their fists as Nirvana played. Kurt Cobain said as much. Creativity tends to flourish outside mainstream confines.
Some observations as diverse as the music:
Hip-hop to the top. It's clearly the youth music of our time, the music of suburban white America and of urban black America. Music with beats and an attacking attitude. Smartly packaged, gift-wrapped rebellion, with a menacing bass line. If it offends the elder generation, that's a bonus. So the thinking goes. The caution flags? We still hear too much rap about gold, guns, money, women, and cars. We still get the sense it's all about ego puffing.
Year of the woman. Ah, yes. The phrase is tossed out about every other year, so why not do it once again, if only to deflate it while stating the obvious? Women, roughly 51 percent of the population, make and sell records, too. Have been for a while now. In '98 we saw the continued prominence of (and a better lineup at) Lilith Fair; Alanis's overwrought re-emergence; the Whitney & Mariah show; Lauryn Hill's zooming past her Fugee brothers; Jewel making us wince with music and poetry; Courtney Love's full-frontal attack with Hole; Shirley Manson's commanding presence as the Garbage girl.
Country music that isn't. The grizzled old guard has been drummed off country radio in favor of good-looking young boys (with hats) and girls (with cleavage). Most new country is middlebrow pop with a slight twang and a conservative heart. I'd rather go drinking, fighting, and crying with George Jones or Merle Haggard.
Increasing demographic fragmentation. No surprise, maybe, but disheartening just the same. The folks watching Pete Townshend, Bob Dylan, and Van Morrison are all around the artists' age (give or take 10 years), and so are the folks going to see Green Day, Offspring, and Marilyn Manson (give or take five years). It's an equal shame that the work of the Hall of Famers doesn't interest the college kids and that the work of the more aggressive young acts doesn't interest the classic-rock crowd. Of course, there's also the ticket price: The old guys are asking top dollar and getting it from upscale boomers.
Catching it live, in the flesh. Music works magic on a solitary, individual basis - you in your car, you at home - but there really is added value in a communal experience. Not to get all hippie-dippy about it, but check yourself amid a rabid crowd of, say, KISS fans or Mighty Mighty Bosstones fans or Green Day fans, and you'll feel better about the sea in which you swim. (My own favorite communal experiences are in the accompanying list.)
Artist and CD glut. ''Too many people!'' Paul McCartney sang convincingly, years ago, in the song of the same title. More true than ever today, Paulie. While the music industry is ruled by merger-crazed conglomerates - which you might think would tend to limit the product released - the costs of producing CDs has decreased so dramatically that almost anyone can do it and sell it over the Internet. And the labels themselves keep hurling CDs at the proverbial wall. Problem: How much do you want to buy? How much time do you have to separate wheat from chaff? How much of this really needs to be heard? When you hear struggling artists complain about ''suffering for my art,'' you sometimes have to respond that ''maybe your art is just not up to snuff, and that's why you're struggling.''
Difficulty in career growth. In part, this is related to the issue above: There's so much to choose from that many listeners forget the band that rocked their world last year. Radio is geared toward hit songs, not artists; people's interest in a given artist tends to wane more quickly than in the past. Last year's hit band becomes passe just by virtue of having an ''old'' hit, and curiosity about what that act is doing next is muted by restlessness about the next (new) big thing.
Why we still care. Pop music's only constant is change. Whether it's the thrill of discovery or the smile-inducing work of an old friend, our ears are ever piqued for a new take on this old world - a beat, a lick, a lyric, something that moves you in a way you just hadn't quite considered before. Maybe it's Bob Dylan reinventing himself once again (and for the bettter, for a change), or Nashville Pussy finding the inexplicable meeting ground of Motorhead and Lynyrd Skynyrd. Maybe, it's Garbage coming back with a second album proving the first was no fluke. Maybe it's feeling the deep sorrow of a Nick Cave song, or plugging into the everlasting bliss of Cheap Trick playing ''Surrender'' at the Paradise - while you sing along, meaning it at the moment: ''We're all all right! We're all all right! We're all all right!''
