[this article was originally published June 11, 2010 for Examiner.com]
One of the most endearing qualities of truly underground bands is that a good majority of them have not self-applied that label. We give them that tag because they have the guts and the gumption to embark on a mission to bring something musically unique into a world that doesn’t always fully embrace that. While these bands’ songs might not be the most conventional, the acute ear can spot the significance in what they’re doing from miles away.
Take a trip back nearly four decades to the early 1970’s. It was one of the most firmly creative times in American music history. The radio-friendly “verse, chorus, verse, chorus” pop song blueprint was becoming standard issue and commonplace, and artists were beginning to mutate that genetic (or generic) code, sprouting up amongst the mainstream like unusual flowers, in stark contrast to the conventional buds in that proverbial garden.
We saw artists like the illustrious Captain Beefheart (who actually had been tinkering with his telltale sound since the late ‘60’s) come to the front, with his progressive jazz instrumentation wrapped in abstract and bizarre beat poet lyrics. Then, shortly behind him, came the mysterious group who called themselves The Residents. Four human beings of unknown origin and appearance creating the most jagged, raw and stripped down semblance of alternative rock music twenty years before the genre existed. They subscribed to the tao that “art is in its purist form when you don’t know who the artist is”. Where sex appeal, product promotion and political stance are often used to sell bands to the consuming public, The Residents are known only for their impressive body of daring concept albums (Third Reich & Roll is one of their early classics, a rudely awakening comparison of pop music’s commercialism to the Nazi ideology) and the unique, deliberately deconstructed sound of their music. Love them or hate them, there is no “them” to embrace. They’re credited only as The Residents on all of their work - no individual liner notations naming the guitar player or the singer, etc., and on the rare occasion they perform live, they’re in costume - so nobody even really knows what they look like.
It goes without saying that bands like these have never had platinum album sales, or top 40 singles, and regardless of the time period in which they were most active, they were never an easy sell to a world that, in general, doesn’t really like to think too hard about what they sing along to (if singing along is an option - which in a lot of cases with both The Residents and Beefheart, it isn’t!). Regardless, in the ‘70’s, and again in the ‘90’s, when record labels still ruled the earth, they were taking risks on these artists to add dimension to a landscape that, even in their typical shortsightedness, they could see offered something appealing. In those days, labels fostered the bands they signed and found ways to steer them toward the market. These days, if the group isn’t a cash cow from the get-go, the labels can’t afford to take any risks on them. The nature of mainstream music has always had the tendency to turn both the bands and the consumer into purveyors of the “sound-alike” (another Residents concept album, 1994’s Gingerbread Man), and the banks of that river are littered with artists who dared to be different, but couldn’t get in because they didn’t fit in.
Welcome to the present day, where American Idol and Coca-Cola tell us who is talented and who isn’t, and the iPod’s encouragement of a shorter and shorter attention span allow us to collect only favorite songs, and not necessarily favorite albums. It’s eroding the way we consume music. Considering this, no one would argue that the record label giants are in the Cretaceous Period of their existence, and that their death throes are obvious when you measure the ennui of what’s topping the charts. Still, underground music stands less of a chance now than it ever did, all things considered, but where there’s a will, there’s a way. The spell has been broken before, and there’s nothing that says it can’t be again.
So what’s brewing now? Take a listen to a group called Action Jelly, for instance, and there’s a distinct feeling of either “is this a joke?” or “something’s about to happen here”. Action Jelly is undeniably irreverent, but to take what they’re up to as “careless and stupid” is naive. Sure, they’ve only got two songs posted on their MySpace page right now (ironic that such a deeply underground ensemble would be using such a decidedly trendy medium), but look at the concept behind them and the statements being made. “The Jungle” is their pseudo cover of The Tokens classic “The Lion Sleeps Tonight”, but when you consider Action Jelly’s presentation, it takes on a whole different meaning, and makes itself a call to action for awakening that which dares to polarize popular music and turn the whole thing upside down. It’s an effort to shock us out of our complacency - and it’s necessary.
Popular music is in the most bland and uninteresting state its been in since The Beatles ruled the land (send hate mail here). Mediocrity and sterility hold sway on the charts, but there is hope. While the major labels continue to fight for their fascist grip on the kingdom, it’s only a matter of time before they fall, and a new age of music will inevitably rise. What’s underground will have the freedom to come to the surface, evolve and maybe even (hopefully) prosper - but we’ll talk about that more when we’re waiting in line to buy our Action Jelly t-shirts.
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