Caught Big Head Todd and the
Monsters at a Twist and Shout in-store performance this week. I’ve seen them in
concert too many times to count, double digits for sure – but it had been several
years, and I was anxious to hear how they sounded these days. Their CDs have
been pretty hit-and-miss lately, although I liked what I’d heard of the new one
so far. While the band sounded great, and Todd still has his boyish charm and
infectious enthusiasm, it became painfully obvious standing amidst the 100 or
so fans that we are all getting older – the band, the fans, even (especially?)
the groupies. I could hear them behind me: obnoxiously giggly, WOOing during
the breaks but incessantly chatty during the actual songs, arriving midway into
the set yet shocked and dismayed that the show was over so soon (OMG!) When I
turned around, though, I was stunned by their haggardly appearance. The clothes
were tight and slinky, the hair was teased, but while one of the four was still
empirically hot, the other three... I believe the phrase is ‘mutton dressed as
lamb.’ Ooof. Time to let it go, ladies.
The couple in front of me had
brought their roughly 8 year old daughter to the show, apparently against her
will. With Mom and Dad swaying awkwardly
to the beat and flipping through the vinyl bins (‘Look honey, it’s that Flight
of the Conchords show you like!’), the young girl stared up toward the ceiling
with a look of resigned exasperation – ‘you can force me to listen to your stupid
old folks band, but you can’t make me like it.’
Her parents both looked like experienced concertgoers, and I thought to
myself, ‘they look pretty good for their age – probably, what, early forties?’
And then it hit me: I’M in my early forties. Christ! What the hell happened
here?
Didn’t matter that the band
sounded tight and energetic, not coasting at all. Didn’t matter that they just
put out their strongest album in over 10 years. Didn’t matter that they can
still cut loose and r-a-w-k. Fact is, Big Head Todd & the Monsters have
gotten old, just like their fans. It’s music by dads, for dads. And while I
still love it, there’s no denying that this is no longer a college band, the
pride of Boulder, the standard bearers for the burgeoning music scene in
Colorado. This is now a nostalgia band, playing for nostalgic fans who remember
where they were when someone first handed them a copy of Sister Sweetly (‘you
gotta check these guys out, they’re local and they’re awesome!’)
At some point, every generation goes
through the cycle, from the latest thing to outdated to forgotten to retro to
classic. It’s always easier to notice this transition from the outside – when
you’re in the middle of it, it’s not nearly as apparent that the stuff you love
that used to be the stuff everyone else loves isn’t loved anymore. You don’t
realize how much time has passed, how trends have changed. Sure, there’s always
some hot new thing coming along, but MY bands are still where it’s at. But at some point it hits you – Sister
Sweetly was over two decades ago. High
school was 25 years ago. All the things you loved, the bands and movies and sports
heroes and shows and quotes and pop culture references that defined you, that
you clung to as badges of honor distinguishing you and your tribe from all
others… that’s all ancient history. Maybe it’ll come around again as retro or
ironic or trendy – but more likely, it’s simply forgotten, culturally irrelevant
to everyone who came after you. And you don’t see this shift until long after
it’s already happened. But then the dinosaurs probably didn’t notice the
impending comet of doom coming to wipe them out either, they always figured
they’d keep on keepin’ on…
And yet there’s merit in the old
stuff, the nostalgic, the retro-in-waiting. Because good music is simply good
music, and quality art endures. So I don’t feel so bad about my inevitable failure
to keep up with every current trend and fashion. The vapid Flavor-of-the-Month
has always been with us, it just used to be called Van McCoy before it was
called Wham! before it was called Chumbawumba before it was called LMFAO. Don’t
get me wrong, I will always have a soft spot for cheesy, infectiously catchy
pop songs. But I also strive to avoid getting stuck in the mud of the familiar
and the safe, because it’s so easy to do. We all know people who found their
sound (or their look) and never let it go – upon reaching a certain level of
musical development and sophistication they said, ‘Yep, this is it, this is
where I make my stand. Beyond here I shall go no further.’ Be it 60s folk, or
90s grunge, or all things Lynyrd Skynyrd, they found their comfort zone, and
there they shall remain.
As I continue to seek out new
music and new bands, I’m always digging for unheard sounds, exploring the roots
and branches of artists and genres that I love, because there’s so much great
music out there, from emerging artists as well as old fogies. It may not be
fashionable, it may not get airplay, it may have limited appeal outside of its
core constituencies, but it’s there. And I aim to bring it to the surface as
often as possible. That’s what this blog is about.
As I’ve said for years, life’s
too short to listen to crap music.
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