They're trying to sell my youth back to me in bite-sized chunks. And some of the chunks are harder to swallow than others. Forget your Mobys and Smash Mouths and Modest Mouses and the whatnots - instant sellouts, glorified jingle-writers, slick businessmen throwing trendy buzz-words around to justify their crimes - cross-marketing, symbiosis, unit-shifting. Okay, here's another one - corporate cluster-fuck.
Now it's the Buzzcocks, the Clash, the Stranglers, the Jam, the Fall, the Psychedelic Furs, Camper Van Beethoven, Squeeze, the B-52's, the Cure, the freakin' Pogues - some of my old favourites - all going for the gravy, effectively negating anything they ever might have stood for with one giant crashing "ka-ching" of the cash register. But still, even when Devo actually rewrote a song, turning "Whip It" into "Swiff It" for Swiffer mops and providing the vocals to boot, or when Gordon Gano of the Violent Femmes - a vegan yet - inexplicably whored out "Blister In the Sun" to Wendy's, I thought, well, maybe there are extenuating circumstances at play here, like massive drug addictions or rampant senility. Sadly, I don't think it's anything that exciting. Greed is exceedingly boring, especially when it's the shiftless, shrugging, "why not?" variety. At least throw in some diabolical cackling while you're at it. I bet Sting cackles.
I still didn't see it coming: Elvis Costello sitting in a Lexus. I guess I didn't want to see it coming. The warning signs were there, accumulating slowly over the years as the former bag of snot turned stubble-stroking artiste, crooning and a-dabbling and sporting kooky hats, hanging out with dithering old fogeys like Tony Bennett and Burt Bacharach and getting fat while pontificating himself hoarse. By the time he married the Diva of Jazz-Lite, he was practically crackling like a Geiger counter. And I stuck with him through it all. I wasn't necessarily buying his records, but I was there in spirit. Now there he is in the back seat of that Lexus blowing some baloney about Beethoven and how great it sounds on the luxury car's luxury hi-fi, trying to have it both ways because he's not really talking about the car and they aren't actually using one of his songs. He's performing a service, really, graciously sharing a little nugget of his musical wisdom. It's a candid moment, as though his driver has gone on an errand and Costello is left in the back seat to appreciate some Ludwig Van away from prying eyes. And when he starts waving his arms around spasmodically, playing air conductor, that too is like a very special moment that we are being privy to. Yes... that's what it's like.
Except that it isn't. It's selling out. And here I thought he wanted to bite the hand that feeds him. I thought he wanted to bite that hand so badly. I was under the impression that he wanted to make them wish they'd never seen him. I stand corrected. Yet I still find it hard to believe that Costello and all the rest of them would really assume that their once youthful fans would now be so complacent and soft and conspicuously consuming that we'd take it and like it. Or that somewhere along the line I started to appreciate cross-marketing. Some of us did get soft, obviously; how else do you explain the weary refrain of, "as if you'd turn down that kind of dough"? - which is the kind of line you'd expect from a witless 15 year-old - "if you think The Matrix is so crappy, then why don't you make a better movie? And stuff..." All I know is that I'd hate to think that Shane MacGowan drives a Cadillac. Then again, I'd hate to think that he drives anything.
We have come to the point where all bets are off. The door is wide open now. I brace myself for the very real possibility of Tom Waits selling me paper towels (don't go into that barn without Bounty?), or Leonard Cohen hawking nasal spray (everybody nose?), or maybe John Cooper Clarke backing KFC (work with me here...). The big mysterious "they" win again. They always win. The lines will eventually blur into one big greasy smudge, everything will be all symbiotic and awesome, and I'll be thoroughly cluster-fucked into submission. By then I'll probably be gumming down my bite-sized chunks of repackaged youth, trying to be amused, but perhaps dimly aware that I used to be disgusted.
Awesome rant, my friend. You are the King, the Emperor, the very Pompitus of Rants, and I salute you.
And of course Sting cackles! He's an "environmentalist" with six kids, and the people have BOUGHT IT.
Posted by: Kipling | June 10, 2007 at 08:21 PM
Man, when you get goin'...you GET goin', don't you? Well said, young padre. Still, with all of Mr. Costello, I never had the hard on for him that so many others did from the beginning. It's my age, I think. Hell, I remember when Bacharach was actually on the pop charts. (hey, don't stone me 'cause I'm an old guy, OK?) And when the google-eyed tramp wed the jazz diva I dug that shit. I guess what I'm saying is I think they ALL get to a point when faded gory is practically invisible and they think "why not?" Except that I can't see Tom Waits making that move. Not after the Frito thing. I think he'll hold out. But then, I might actually want to see that Bounty commercial now that I think about it. "...what's he doing in there with that roll of Bounty? What's he doing in there...?"
Posted by: Zing | June 11, 2007 at 09:42 AM
It all started for me with the re-union of the
SEX PISTOLS...wha????
for gawd sake...and yes the blister in the sun
(was it wendy's..barfer king? )was the stake in my heart..no pun(k) intended...*groan!
Posted by: Nicole | June 11, 2007 at 01:32 PM
Yeah, the Pistols tried to sneak it by us just by admitting that they were all about the filthy lucre - the folding back on itself burrito of bullshit logic.
Yet it seems no one has stepped up to the plate and tried to put a Pistols song in an ad, I don't think. I think "Bodies" would be perfect for Dove soap.
Posted by: RF | June 12, 2007 at 11:18 AM
Having just viewed the advert in question, I feel you are pissing up the wrong rope. Clearly the person selling-out here is Beethoven. What was he thinking? I'm pretty sure he doesn't even drive.
But seriously, why is Elvis sitting out in his car listening to tunes? Are the twins sleeping in the house? Perhaps Diana doesn't care for classical.
Okay, his integrity is definitely riding a runaway luge of bad judgement. And it's not easy to stop a luge. But don't toss out your old Elvis albums yet. It may just be some kinda temporary hormonal imbalance or Viagra reaction, or something...
Ah, who am I kidding? Most likely his next stop will be the dinner show at the Riviera. And that's no Jake.
Of course, If you are tossing out the old catalogue, put me down for everything prior to 'Kojak Varieties'. Except 'Almost Blue'...
Posted by: shecky | June 14, 2007 at 12:03 AM
Good point, Sheck. Beethoven, worse than Moby.
Posted by: RF | June 14, 2007 at 10:02 AM
I don't know about all of these particular cases, but sometimes if a recording is published by a big record company then the artist really no longer owns it, and has no say in how it's sold. A few years ago Wrangler Jeans used CCR's "Fortunate Son" in a horrifying jingoistic TV ad, highlighting the lyric "some folks were born made to wave the flag" but leaving out the "it ain't me" parts. John Fogerty was pissed off about it but there was nothing he could do.
Obviously, Costello sat in the car of his own free will.
Posted by: jethro | June 19, 2007 at 03:16 PM
Fogerty's legal battles over his CCR catalog is the stuff of legends and they were indeed pimping his songs out against his will - sort of like "Revolution" and Nike and the whole Yoko vs. Michael Jackson business. I know it happens. The other two guys in the Violent Femmes are apparently quite outraged at the Wendy's fiasco wrought by their shameless, greedy frontman.
And that's all any of it is - greed. You can dress it up and you can call it Shirley, but it's still greed.
Posted by: RF | June 19, 2007 at 05:57 PM
Tom is pretty much the only one standing his ground.
"Commercials are an unnatural use of my work," Waits said after fans alerted him to the ads in 2005. "It's like having a cow's udder sewn to the side of my face. Painful and humiliating."
http://www.eonline.com/news/article/index.jsp?uuid=095162b9-7e73-48c8-9479-b3feb91d4fb1
Posted by: halcyon | June 19, 2007 at 07:46 PM
Yeah, Shane MacGowan and Cadillac. Could two things be more diametrically opposed? Honestly, this is the first time I've ever been truly shocked by the rock/commercial sellout. With Elvis, I blame the new wifey- it was probably a twofer deal. And with the Femmes, well, not as surprised either- that band's been through various incarnations. But the when I heard Shane's snarling growl backed by an Irish band and then saw it was background to onto an upper-class American suburban family of four I honestly thought I was imagining things! I must have heard wrong. Seriously. If only. I guess I finally found my threshold. Cadillac.
Posted by: BaltimoreGal | June 21, 2007 at 11:00 AM
I think what's hilarious about use of some songs is that they are a bit off-color to shill stuff. I mean, Cadillac actually uses the line "heart full of hate and a lust for vomit" in the commercial. Do you really want to eat that Wendy's mayonnaise knowing the lyric "I stain my sheets" is in the original?
The ad agencies don't seem to care what gets played to an unattentive public. It's like hypnotizing chickens: forget your torture film and go on a cruise.
Posted by: Sean-B | June 24, 2007 at 04:27 AM
I really wanted to think you were overreacting. Then I watched the commercial. Now I want to go somewhere and lie down for a few days. Because, see, I've been the most stalwart Elvis fan of them all. I have all his classical shit, ok? I think the Bacahrach material is genius. I get in arguments in bars all the time with all those closed-minded "nothing after King of America" people, and I've actually converted some of those people with carefully chosen compilatons of the more recent stuff.
OKay, When I was Cruel gave me pause (i.e., it sucked) and the Delivery Man was almost unlistenably bad (except for a couple of great tunes).
The point is, I've suffered for that asshole, but this is far, far worse than anything I could have imagined. God. I saw him in Vanity Fair, too, pimping a credit card or something, and thought it was just a one-shot deal. Could he be saving money for some massive artistic project that wouldn't get funded otherwise? Ok, forget it, you're right. He's gone. And if he's lost me, he's REALLY in trouble.
Posted by: David Stoesz | June 25, 2007 at 04:34 PM