(yet another Top Ten List... brought
to you by Anemic Royalty Pharmaceuticals, Ltd.)
Just recently, the latest Dell commercial began with the
post-Brit invasion guitar licks and nasal whine of The Strange Boys, an
awesome band from Austin Dallas, Texas and my first reaction was
surprise. Somebody at Dell has some goddamn taste! My second reaction: happiness. For someone had given the Sambol boys a
check.
This is a far cry from the reaction I had the first time I
heard my favorite Beatles song used in a tennis shoe ad.
No, for these days, commercials,
soundtracks, and ad campaigns are the new A&R. Thanks to someone deep down in the pits of
some marketing agency with excellent taste in music, we are able to find a Geico
commercial more palatable, and in return, an indie band can get enough gas
in their van to make it from Wilmington to Asheville. (You didn't think they traveled the world
solely by the sales at the merch table, did you? The $5 cover at the door when only ten people
showed up?) While I don't have any
feelings one way or the other regarding any of those companies, I do thank them
for giving these bands exposure they otherwise would not get.
Not exactly the story back in the old days, with Rice Krispies, 7-Up, or Hoverround chairs for
old-timers.
Soundtracks have the same effect. What more is HBO's True Blood than a chance to watch sexy, naked vampires get it on
while listening to kick-ass
music?
As long as people can stand to keep watching Sons of Anarchy on FX, Scott H. Biram and Black
Rebel Motorcycle Club will keep getting recognition and hopefully some
royalties.
I know what you are thinking. Or perhaps, I should say I know what some of you are thinking. And with all full disclosure, I am basing
this assertion I had with an unnamed, dirty hippie-chick from a local
band. She took the position that these
bands were selling out and had somehow compromised their music by accepting
money from these corporate entities.
That somehow the message of the band that drove thousands of miles and played
shitty bars for more than 45 weeks of the year to drunks (or inebriated
die-hard fans, as I like to refer to myself) has altered because they took what
basically amounts to "free money," if ever there were such a thing.
This same girl who lives on government handouts, her daddy's
money, and produces records that, deep down inside, she hopes no one buys because
she is truly "punk rock," chastises anyone who makes money
honestly...
How different is this from the position Adam Yauch of the
Beastie Boys takes took? In his
will, he states that he
bars the use of any and all of his work from ever appearing in advertising. Is
this the same man who likes to "rock my Adidas / never rock Fila?" Not to sound grim -- and I grew up loving the Beastie Boys, despite them
being New Yorkers -- but what if a Beastie Boys song helped promote awareness
of stomach cancer?
It's not like anyone's had to change their brand or message
by accepting these checks. It's not like
they've stooped to some nefarious corporation and are succumbing to their
bidding all in the name of collecting some greenbacks. While some ads have bordered
on lack of taste, I can only imagine how life would have been if someone
canned and marketed poke greens for Polk Salad, if a
practicing physician were actually named Dr. Feelgood, or if Chuck
Berry worked for the Memphis
Visitors and Convention Bureau. I
myself have wondered why hospitals don't fight to name their infirmaries after St. James
or why Dole or Chiquita never approached Billie Holliday for the rights of
"Strange Fruit."
Indeed.
Selling out is a term used by junior high kids and hipster
bands that never want to have an impact.
So be it. I enjoy the fact that
these bands are able to come to my neighborhood and that I can enjoy them live on
my modest budget. If I were a
millionaire, I'd have them play my birthday party. But I'm not, so I'll settle driving out to
High Point next weekend to catch Wayne "The Train" in a shitty bar or
up to Martin's Downtown in Roanoke for whatever they may stir up.
So I promised a Top Ten list, didn't I? Enough preaching...
TOP TEN SONGS FOR
COMMERCIALIZATION
Oh hell yes it does.
While the two country kids from Arkansas faded into obscurity after a
couple of high profile years with Capitol records, they knew two things: Fame
can be fleeting and Girls Talk. It
wasn't a copyrighted product that Bobby Adamson and Woody Murray shilled in their
1955 bopping number, but rather their selves and their own sexuality.
How much can we say
about cars in American culture? Cars
have shaped our culture, transforming us from strictly urban dwellers, to how
we eat, to what time of year our television shows air. Cars have been the number one advertisers
since they competed with gasoline (which goes into cars) for spots on early TV.
Every brand seems to have an iconic song. Ford gets some love from
Reverend Horton Heat, Jaguar from the Who and Chuck Berry, and everybody who's anybody has sung about a Cadillac. One of the sexiest cars, the Galaxie 500,
gets some love from Drowning
Lovers and Reverend
Horton Heat. Sam McGee does some old
time with the Chevy
and the Beach Boys broke free from the deuce coupe to sing about a two-wheeled Honda. So with all of those, why on earth did I
choose "Bitchin' Camaro," you ask?
Coin flip.
Man, they've been singing songs to put a wild man in the
White House since "The Hunters of Kentucky" was used to elect Andrew
Jackson in 1824 and 1828. "Tippecanoe and Tyler
Too" (W.H. Harrison), "Happy Days are Here
Again" (FDR), and "I'm
Just Wild about Harry" (Truman), are prime examples of electioneering,
but Sinatra, one of the biggest stars of the era, pulled out all the stops when
he took his already hit song "High Hopes" and changed the lyrics to
stump for his crony John F. Kennedy. The
song (with the help of Momo
Giancana) propelled the young senator from Massachusetts into office and
changed the course of history.
For all of you who -- like me -- went to college at east
Texas' Stephen F. Austin State University, and has ever made that midnight trip
into Houston or its environs, I don't need to explain what the bearded ones are
shilling in this song. For the rest of
you... two words: Chicken Ranch.
No list of music dealing with advertising, branding, or
product placement would be complete without the inclusion of this
instrumental. From now until eternity,
it will conjure images of The Wheel, nylons, and Play-tex. For me, anyway...
This song is ridiculous, but since junior high this is the
only thing I can think of when I see a Harley out on the road. Canned Heat is probably
more appropriate for most people, but not for me.
My iPod was purchased specifically so I could listen to
songs about whiskey drinking on whatever floor I find myself, but this one gets
the toe to tapping. The music stylings
of Pete Bernhard (guitarist), Lucia Turino (bassist), and Cooper McBean (banjo
and gee-tar) rock on
stage or recorded and are a must-see anytime they make it near your
town. Go see them.
I have long believed that The Who Sell Out is one of the greatest concept albums of all
time. From the cover images of them
promoting Heinz Baked
Beans or Odorono body deodorant to their pitches for the acne cream Medac to little jingles
between songs that sound like they come direct from the BBC's airwaves. But "Odorono," the heart-wrenching
tale of a singer who fails her audition due to her failure to apply deodorant, reigns
supreme.
A toe-tapper and filled with biting satiric irony...
delicious. I'll take two! Paul Simon is no stranger to commercialism and in the
early Sixties, was quite the commenter on consumerism, alienation, and American
culture. But this B-side from "The
Dangling Conversation" and deep track from Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme hits all the right chords by
attacking consumer culture and managing lyrics that sound as if ripped directly
from a late-night commercial. As to what
the Big Bright Green Pleasure Machine that could "neutralize your
brain" and "eliminate your pain..." we could only guess.
DID I MISS ANY?
WHATCHOO GOT? STICK IT IN MY
COMMENTS BOX.
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