A Salty Salute

Every morning as soon as I wake up, the first website I check is Pitchfork, the long-running indie music review site.  I've done this for over 10 years, though the last few have been out of compulsive obligation rather than a serious interest in the music they're reviewing.  So many articles have been written about the internet's effect on the music business and quality of music, so I don't have much to add to what's already been said, but my feeling is that the internet, like Wal-Mart, outsourcing, and other sad facts of American consumer culture, has created more quantity than quality.  The argument I hear in favor of the internet is that more musicians are able to get their product noticed, and therefore, we hear more good music.  But I remember a time when record labels, though they were shrewd and often in complete control of their artists, vetted bands and made sure they were fit for public consumption.  A lot of crappy bands slipped through the cracks for profit, of course (The Vines?), but the entirety of rock music seemed overall much better than than the watered down mess on the internet today.  Pitchfork used to routinely dole out 9/10's for records, whereas today, I mostly see 8/10's for mediocre records.  Maybe this is because Pitchfork has more stringent rules for their rating system (they did give perfect 10's to Walt Mink and ...Trail of Dead back in the day, after all), but I think it's mostly because the internet has democratized and watered down the quality of music to mediocrity across the board.

Maybe this is why I just don't get that excited about buying and listening to records as I used to.  I've probably bought 3 records in 2012, and I think they were all reissues or older records.  It used to be routine for me to play guitar every day for at least an hour, often longer.  I haven't played my guitar in over three months now.  It stresses me out to think that I'm losing interest and skill in my favorite hobby from when I was a kid.

The truth is I still harbor dreams of becoming a rock musician.  I'm practical enough to know that I'll never be famous because I'm too far into a career and adulthood to seriously pursue playing music full-time, not to mention that even if I did pursue it full-time, there's no guarantee of my being good enough to get noticed.  But the dream's still there, if not just to give me something to hope for, futile as it may be.

But I always have the example of Bob Pollard, the brains behind one of the best bands of all time, Guided by Voices, to make me think it might happen some day.  If you're familiar with independent rock music, then the story is legendary: Pollard decides after 14 years of teaching 4th grade and playing music with his friends on the weekends that his true passion for being in a band is what matters the most to him.  He quits teaching, infuriates his parents and wife, and becomes one of the best songwriters of the past 20 years.  I can't imagine the courage he had to muster to go through with that, and I can't help but admire him for it.

I still maintain that the best rock concert I ever saw was Guided by Voices in my college town, Tuscaloosa, AL.  I was 19, and though the show was 21 and over, I somehow slipped in unnoticed during GBV's soundcheck.  Pollard came down off the stage after the soundcheck, sipping a bloody mary and talking to a few people who had congregated near the stage.  I was too nervous and shy to talk to him, even though everything I read about him suggested he's one of the most down-to-earth musicians on the planet.  I stood around in the shadows waiting for the show to begin and trying to avoid the eyes of any bouncers who might question my age.  The reason most GBV shows are 21 and over is that they keep a huge cooler full of Miller Light beer that they consume and hand out to the audience while they play.  I was handed 4 beers that night (I even carried the empty bottles home as souvenirs).  But the best memory of the show was when I randomly gave a soldier's salute to Pollard as in a "well done, sir" after a song, and as if he were my general, saluted me back.  It was so corny now that I think about it, but it meant so much to me at the same time.  It's hard to be cynical about one of your heroes being nice to you.

It hurts to listen to GBV sometimes because their music is so entwined with my days in Tuscaloosa when I had that dream to be a musician and it actually seemed possible at the time.  Of course, it wasn't possible even then because I was too lazy to try to start a band and do the actual work that's required, but it still "seemed" possible.  I was young and that's all that mattered.  I wish I could get that feeling back, but I feel like I have to hear some amazing new band to inspire me.  Unfortunately, there haven't been any amazing new bands to do that to me in probably 8 years...