Is it the music or a solid marketing campaign that has made the key players in the emerging “garage rock” genre the cult superstars they are? You know who I’m talking about–the White Stripes, the Hives, the Strokes, the Vines, the ? who cares?
Maybe I’m too old-school and don’t get what all the kids at thrift clothing stores from Soho to San Fran are talking about. A lot of these bands have received undeserved accolades and praise for putting together a nice little uniform and a couple of good songs.
It’s a shame when elite media critics work with the idea that one or two good songs from a few bands of similar backgrounds constitutes a revolution. That’s not the way it happened in Seattle in the early ’90s and not the way it should happen now.
Anyone who says Nirvana, Alice In Chains, Soundgarden or Pearl Jam only had one or two good songs each has been smoking the pipe too long. The grunge explosion of the early ’90s was a revolution centered on quality music, whereas the current garage-rock scene is more of a fashion show for indie mooks who haven’t touched their Mach 3s for a couple of days.
Different and more refreshing than the generic pop that nearly killed music a couple of years ago, the bands associated with the burgeoning garage scene are mildly entertaining, but not what we have all been waiting for.
The White Stripes
Hometown: Detroit Rock City
Relationship to one another: Who knows?
Daily uniform: Red and white jeans and t-shirts, mix and match, only $10.99
Hit single: “Fell in Love with a Girl”
At this very moment, Joe Levy, a “Rolling Stone” assistant managing editor, may be rubbing a copy of the White Stripes’ White Blood Cells all over his face. A little further away in midtown Manhattan, Kurt Loder is gleefully drooling over the Hives and is proclaiming to an uninterested Gideon Yago that the group is rock’s new savior; Yago counters with the claim that Radiohead is the best band in the world.
In the case of Levy, he, like many other hack journalists, is convinced that Jack and Meg White, the two lone members of the White Stripes, are not only making the most inventive music in years, but are the new face of rock.
Levy arrived at this decision on the basis of “Fell in Love with a Girl,” a two-minute niblet of blistering garage rock. It’s a great track, worthy of notice and future inclusion on SUV commercials, but it is asinine to assert that a band is going to save rock ‘n’ roll on the basis of one song or because the band might be made up of a brother and sister who are married.
The truth, apparently, is that they are actually a brother and sister duo from Detroit, but I’ve read reports that say they are a divorced couple. I don’t care if they’re spotted tree frogs. In an act of ridiculous publicity, Jack and Meg White have made their true relationship a big mystery. Hype can only work for so long.
Remember the mid-1990s swing revival spearheaded by the Squirrel Nut Zippers and the Brian Setzer Orchestra? Yeah, that was supposed to take the world by storm as “the next big thing.” As the elite music media immediately latched onto it like grim death, the movement died out about a week later when everyone realized that one or two songs do not constitute a revolution.
The White Stripes have more people whipped up about their trademarked red-and-white uniforms, their relationship to one another and “Fell in Love with a Girl” than they do about the rest of White Blood Cells or their collective music catalogue, which is not all that compelling.
Speaking from the perspective of a Detroit native, the White Stripes have their small, loyal audience, and a metro-Detroit weekly magazine that worships the band like the messiah, but the Stripes are by no means the biggest thing going in Detroit.
As “Fell in Love with a Girl” loses steam on the radio, the race to find a second hit single is on, but unfortunately, there isn’t a track on the rest of White Blood Cells to fill that void. How will the Stripes spearhead a revolution without mass support?
The Hives
Hometown: Sweden, Jerry, Sweeeeden
Favorite Meal: Big Macs, baby, Big Macs
Uniform: Black slacks, black shirts and white ties
Hit Single: “Hate To Say I Told You So”
Perhaps the most arrogant of this new breed are Sweden’s heroes, the Hives. Now that the band has major-label backing thanks to Warner Bros.’ Sire Records, the Swede rockers have enjoyed mild success with their song, “Hate To Say I Told You So,” and as a result have taken the opportunity to lecture to potential fans. Hives guitarist Nicholaus Larson was quoted as saying, “To me, it just makes sense that people would like the same music as I do because the music that I listen to is very good.”
Give me a break. The Hives’ behavior has officially crossed Sweden off my list of countries to visit. I thought it might be fun to see some fjords and the Absolut factory, but I guess I can do without that.
In a recent editorial, Kurt Loder, MTV’s version of Dan Rather, was unabashed in his assertation that the Hives are rock’s new saviors. He made very dangerous claims that not only are the Hives better than the Ramones, but their lead singer is better than Mick Jagger. His longwinded editorial, which read more like a love letter to the Hives, only proved how much hype can sway even the most “veteran” of rock journalists. My only thought is, “What is Loder going to say when poor album sales send the Hives packing back to Sweden?”
What a lot of elite media insiders fail to mention is that their album Veni Vidi Vicious sat on the shelf for two years and was only re-issued as desperate music executives searched for anything in the garage-rock genre. There’s only one reason why an album sits on the shelf for two years–figure it out.
The Strokes
Hometown: New York City
Uniform: Jean jackets, dress coats, thrift store T’s and five o’clock shadows.
Drink of choice: Anything with alcohol.
Hit Single: Is This It is loaded with ’em.
The Strokes are the best of the bunch. The NYC rich kids spearheaded the movement in grand fashion this past year. Their album Is This It is an undeniably catchy collection of tracks ala Julian Casablancas’ (former co-star of the hit movie “Big”) Lou Reed vocals.
Is This It deserves a definite heads up, but like “The Osbournes,” now that everyone of all ages is on board, it seems as if the Strokes may be headed for a fast burnout–or maybe even bigger stardom mixed with cries of “Sell-outs!”
The Strokes have also been responsible for assembling large groups of 20-somethings who wear the uniform which consists of a jean jacket, tight jeans, low-top sneakers, a thrift-store t-shirt, five o’clock shadow and a general appearance of apathy.
The Vines
Hometown: The Land of Oz–Australia that is
Uniform: See “The Strokes,” above
Hit Single: “Highly Evolved”
Hobbies: Playing hide-and-go-seek
This is the band that the urban hipsters have been waiting for. The Vines have been hailed as “the next big thing” and as Australia’s greatest export since Silverchair. Already likened to the Beatles, Nirvana and the Rolling Stones, these guys have been given titles by aging hipsters and self-appointed black-frame experts that they don’t deserve.
So what’s with the Vines? Is the industry scraping the bottom of the barrel so hard that it has to associate Vines lead singer Craig Nicholls with Kurt Cobain and the music of the Vines with that of Nirvana? Making such comparisons is an insult to Nirvana’s legacy and only devalues the permanent mark the group left on the world while the Vines were still watching Winnie-the-Pooh.
Much has been made of Craig Nicholls’ wild behavior. The once-McDonald’s-employed lead singer has been known to do “crazy” things in interviews like hiding or leaving. You know what normal people call this? Shtick. You can buy all the jean jackets you want and drink all the Jim Beam you want, but it’s not going to make you a legend.
The Vines’ disc Highly Evolved is highly mediocre at best. While lead single “Get Free” has been touted as “the best two minutes of rock you will hear this year,” it plays like the derivative garbage of the late ’90s that would have brought the scorn of “alternative posers” upon the blokes from Australia.
The rest of Highly Evolved sounds more like a basic take on Radiohead than a Cobain revival. “Country Yard” is slightly pleasing, but Mazzy Star was better than this. Title track “Highly Evolved” shows promise at its start, but the pre-chorus sounds like a terrible takeoff on any Alice In Chains song, while the rest of the song is forgettable.
Your take on the Vines depends on your take on the music industry. If you fall prey to industry hype that garage rock will save the world, you’ll find this as entertaining as a Pavement concert in the East Village. The Vines may have potential as an indie band, but to associate the band with true legends is just plain wrong.
Wilco
Hometown: Chicago
Uniform: N/A
Hit Single: It’s all about the collective work, not corporate singles, man.
As for the lone outsider of this Detroit rock genre, Wilco has had anyone and everyone praise its latest album, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. The album was released to the mass public after it was initially released online for free. Yankee Hotel Foxtrot has been hailed by Rolling Stone as a masterpiece and is the weekly topic in a variety of Chicago-based publications. It’s a relaxing collection of tracks, but to call it a masterpiece is debatable.
If Wilco’s latest is a masterpiece, then should every record by Elliot Smith be ranked as a masterpiece as well? You make the call. As for me, I walked away from the album with indifference.
The Verdict
You may be entirely right if you think I don’t know what good music is. There are plenty of non-mainstream acts that I hold in high regard, but I’m baffled by the success of this emerging new-garage-rock genre.
So I ask you again, is it great marketing and publicity or great music that has made these bands successful? My view is that for all of these acts, minus the Strokes, the answer is image, hype and good publicity. Take away the red-and-white or black-and-white uniforms and the member-relationship questions, and all you’re left with is the music of what will end up being just another short-lived musical phase.
