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So, one day back in high school I was getting dressed and I
thought to myself, “Hey, I’ll put on blue jeans, a
white tee shirt, and run some mousse through my hair. I’ll
look like Elvis, I’ll look like James Dean. The chicks will
dig it.”
Strangely, no girls picked up on my ’50s animal magnetism
vibe. A few giggled, but I think that was due more to my fingers
being blue ““ two would be removed later that day totally dead
with frostbite.
Little did I know then, but on that cold day in Juneau in the
middle of January, I had hit upon a basic principle of human
psychology. People tend to respond positively to things that remind
them of other positive things.
This phenomenon of basic human association applies not only to
emulating hunky men of the past on ice cold, bitter winter days,
but even invades a more sacred world: that of the artist.
This principle, which will hereafter be known as the cred
effect, is essentially rooted to our appreciation of popular music
as we know it today.
Whether it is due to the real and disturbing lack of creativity
exhibited in recent mainstream music, or a general unwillingness of
the larger public to produce revenue for more original acts, many
of the bands who have been credited recently with creating quality
music owe a lot to the cred effect.
A perfect example would be a band you may have heard of from
across the pond, which calls itself Oasis. “We’re the
biggest band in the world,” they told everybody who would
listen. Actually, record sales and public opinion would probably
have argued against this bold statement, but they sure did look
like a band who was the biggest band in the world, and their sound
sure hearkened back to the melodies of that other band. No,
I’m not talking about Grand Funk Railroad (but oh how I wish
I was). I’m talking about the Beatles.
Oasis embraced this comparison, even taking it so far as to
“channel” the Beatles onstage with renditions of songs
like “I Am the Walrus.” While its critics did exist,
Oasis managed to have a solid contingent of the music community
praising them for making honest music that was rich in its
simplicity. The cred effect helped Oasis parlay its re-creation of
an old vibe into people believing the band made quality music
itself.
Although the confrontational lads no longer get the press they
once did, a current example of major cred effect is the hip New
York scene, which once more rears its head. Just as Oasis brought
back mop tops and hippie glasses, the New York bands are
repopularizing the leather, jean jackets and greasy CBGB look. Just
look at any music publication of the last six months and see if the
ultra-hip Strokes aren’t staring willfully and blankly back
at you. No band has gotten more press, hype, or dare I say buzz, in
the last year than The Strokes, but are The Strokes doing anything
new? Are they cool because they are groundbreaking?
No.
The Strokes are cool precisely because they are retro, because
they remind people of a time when music meant something, right?
Right indeed. They look like the Ramones or the New York Dolls, or
they sound a little like Velvet Underground. That gives their music
sincerity. That gives them a quality that is lacking in lesser
respected pop or rock, that gives them a depth, doesn’t it?
Well”¦
There are countless other bands trying to live up the
re-emergence of the New York scene, all ready to put their spin on
the familiar and make it new again.
The cred effect works on other subconscious levels as well.
Every time a hard rock singer screams high at the top of his lungs
he is reminding us, “Yeah, Robert Plant kicked ass, Zeppelin
kicked ass,” and he’s trying to tell us he kicks ass
like that too. Every time a drummer acts goofy, he’s secretly
projecting into our minds that he, like Mickey Dolenz pretending to
drum for the Monkeys, can have fun and make us forget our
troubles.
It’s even at work in the way a band responds to whom they
were influenced by. Every guitarist in a pop punk band will readily
tell you that the music of Miles Davis and the Clash means more to
him than Weezer’s does. But as soon as two chords of his
music finish their metallic resonation, one can’t help but
think of the Blue and Green albums. So, why does this everyman
guitarist want to associate himself with respected names of yore?
Simply to gain credibility.
Not that this yearning for the familiarly pleasant is a totally
bad thing. Damn if I wouldn’t rather hear a million bands rip
off the Beatles and other classic staples, instead of resorting to
more modern attempts at creating worthless genres. Damn if I
don’t like The Strokes’ “Last Nite” a lot
more than the most recent P.O.D. single, even if the former owes a
lot more to early Tom Petty and other ’70s winners.
Be wary, however, as there are worser examples of the cred
effect than Oasis or the new New York scene. Think new Michael
Jackson trying to trick us by vaguely reminding us of old Michael
Jackson, or recent bands trying to gain merit when their publicists
claim the most remote connection to Radiohead.
Be suspicious or someday we might do something crazy, like elect
a mayor just because he looks like a mayor we used to have.