The pacification of music criticism

Kelefa Sanneh hit a home run with his excellent piece in the New Yorker, covering the decline of music criticism from acerbic, witty truth telling to the placid, homogenized landscape that we have today.  

Additional context comes by way of a video by Dave Hurwitz, and even though he's talking about the classical music industry (his specialty), the sentiment is applicable to other genres as well. In short, as magazine readership began to decline rapidly, publishers and editors became reluctant to risk alienating a shrinking pool of potential advertisers with negative reviews.  The magazines continued on their death spiral, and review culture never recovered.  

In particular, Sanneh makes a fascinating connection that I'd never considered before.  As rockism fell into disfavour -- in no small part due to Sanneh's endless debated piece in the NYT --  and poptimism rose to fill the void, negativity in music reviews also waned.  He writes, "poptimism intimated that critics shoudl not just take pop music seriously but celebrate it ...".  This new culture of positivity was also spurred by the explosion of blogs and online mags, where countless writers competed to be seen as tastemakers with a keen ear for discovering and popularizing new music through glowing reviews, mp3 blogs, etc.  

Sanneh highlights the online presence of Anthony Fantano and Rick Beato, as two examples of influencers (each with millions of followers) who aren't afraid to regularly dole out negative criticism.  It's important to note that Fantano and Beato are independent and not beholden to an editorial direction influenced by outside funding.   It's hardly a surprise that "old school" criticism lives on through outlets such as theirs.  

Sanneh makes just one misstep.  Toward the end of the piece, he explains that twenty years ago, he wrote negative reviews regularly, whereas now feels less compelled to do so.  This is in part because when reviewing an album that he doesn't take to immediately, "why commit that judgement to print, when, instead, I could wait to see whether it will grow on me, as awkward -seeming albums sometimes do?" I believe he's trying to restore some nobility to the art of writing reviews, seeking honour in this new era of criticism where very little is actually criticized.  But for me, this sentiment runs counter to a fundamental consequence of good criticism.  The critic's skill and expertise give them the vision to recognize a record's greatness and its potential long-term impact long before the general public catches on.  This is a key motivation behind my writing -- opining on the music I like and don't like, putting a time stamp on my thoughts, and hoping to be proven right in the long run.  And even if I'm wrong, or change my mind, or what have you, there's always a learning experience in the process.  In contrast, biding one's time and letting their opinion be continuously re-shaped by the shifting consensus isn’t leading the critical charge—it’s following it. It’s almost glorified gossip-column hackery: scanning what others are saying to gauge public sentiment, then presenting the safe, majority-approved opinion.

Dr. Guiseppe and Mr. Sinopoli

I have taken to Sinopoli's recordings as somewhat of a guilty pleasure.  His style certainly isn't for everyone.   Most people value instrumental clarity and individual sonorities when listening to classical music.  Sinopoli didn't care about any of that, he approached the orchestra as if it was a gigantic, people-powered modular synth, with separate components only existing to mold the overall sound.  I wrote about his marvelous, semi-shoegaze-y Bruckner 7th -- a piece that benefits (in my view) from a a cathedral-like, blurry sonority.   

The problem with Sinopoli is that he would apply the "treatment" to just about anything and everything.  The results were entirely hit and miss.  And yet, even when I know that it's a miss (based on critic's reviews) I still can't help but listen.  

For example, take the widely panned Elgar Symphonies 1 and 2, with the Philharmonia.  The consensus is that the 2nd symphony in particular is dreadfully, drudgingly slow, a recording to be avoided at all costs.   But I just had to hear it for myself.  And I discovered, indeed, that the slow tempos completely kill the piece.  Nevertheless, as an experiment in Elgar, it's oddly fascinating.

On the other hand, Sinopoli's version of the Brahms German Requiem with the Czech Philharmonic works surprisingly well.  It runs completely opposite to the stoic treatment of Klemperer, often thought of as the reference recording.  It may not be for everyone, but if you ever wished for a psychedelic mind trip version of the German Requiem, then Sinopoli's recording may be for you.

Sometimes the Jekyll/Hyde dichotomy occurs on the same disc, like with the pairing of Mahler's 8th and 10th symphonies with the Philharmonia.   The Mahler 8 presents a grandiose, sweaty, wall of sound that is entirely appropriate for a piece in which more excess is always better.  However, the Mahler 10 (Adagio only), runs for an interminable 33 minutes (!!) and is very nearly unrecognizable compared to any competing recording.  It comes across like one of those time stretched recordings where every note blends into the next and the dynamics are flattened out into a sprawling void of nothing.  I have no idea what to make of  

I'll continue on this mini-quest to subject myself to the odd but daring stylings of this maverick conductor ...

Oasis 2025 -- 90's comfort food

The Oasis reunion is finally happening and it already feels bigger than any other "reunion" tour in recent years.  In his review of their kick-off concert in Cardiff, The Independent's Mark Beaumont half-heartedly tries being cynical about it, with a slight few backhanded compliments thrown in, but in the end it didn't matter.  He gives them a five star review.   

Yes, both Gallagher's have been touring these same songs with their own bands for years.  Last year at this time, Liam had a solo Definitely Maybe 30th anniversary tour, appearing in arena around the UK.  How is it, just one year later, that he can appear in stadiums singing the exact same songs, headlining the 90's nostalgia tour to end them all?  Much like the Smashing Pumpkins reunion, or the fifty Fleetwood Mac reunions where somebody left and then came back, having the original members on stage working together is far more than a technicality.  If it was only about hearing the songs, then Oasis cover bands could competently headline stadiums.  

It’s clear to me now that the '90s occupy a cultural space much like the '60s did during the '90s themselves.  In the late 80's/early 90's, many iconic classic rock acts from the previous generation were back together and making headlines.  Dylan became a cultural darling again.  The Who and the Rolling Stones did reunion tours that earned a gajillion dollars.  The Beatles released their "Anthology" series. Johnny Cash made a wholly unexpected comeback.   The Velvet Underground put aside their differences for five minutes and reunited.  Neil Young was recast as the godfather of grunge after losing his way for most of the 80's.  And so on.  There was a prevailing sense that the '60s were still the pinnacle of musical culture, and that nothing could ever surpass them.  All the controversies of the 60's that had seeped their way into the Western (mainly American) consciousness were mostly swept under the rug.  Civil rights?  The turmoil of 1968?  Vietnam?  Those were yesterday's problems, thoroughly left behind us, and we were left with the unequaled brilliance of the greatest bands of the rock era.  Those who came of age during the 60's scoffed at the idea of "my" 90's music being relevant enough to be remembered even in five years' time, let alone thirty.

And now, I believe the 90's are mostly viewed through rose-coloured glasses by people who weren't there or have hazy memories of it.  The decade of happy-go-lucky "Friends".  The end of the Cold War followed by world peace breaking out (Jesus Jones promised me that it happened!)  Singing along to Oasis songs with all one's friends.  When one needs to get away from the turmoil in the world today, one can always count on 90's TV, movies, and music to take you back to a time when there were few worries in the world save for Y2K angst.  In the 90's, the POTUS could get his dick sucked in the Oval Office and not get MeToo'ed into oblivion!  And people loved him for this, he left office with the highest approval ratings of any President in decades.  Viewed from the quagmire that is 2025, clearly the 90's were a utopia.  

Of course, that's not how it really was.  But Oasis, and the current Oasis reunion represent the apex of the 90's comfort food culture.  There probably isn't another band (at least not in the UK) that allows you to suspend reality and daydream about the imagined perfection of the 90's.  In the US, Oasis were just one of many heavy-rotation MTV bands of the day.  "What's the Story Morning Glory" was just the 10th biggest selling album of 1996 in the US.  It's the third biggest seller of all time in the UK.  And that gives them a healing power than few other bands can match.  What about their Britpop peers?  Please.  Blur: too kooky, standoff-ishly clever.  Pulp: despite a remarkable comeback this year with a #1 UK album, their songs are all about stressful affairs, scandalous trysts, a constant reminder of the uncertainty of the times.  Suede: too weird, too fancy, not anthemic enough.  All of them are wildly successful.  None of them had a hope of symbolizing the carefree hope and grandeur like Oasis can.      

 

It took me eight years to "get" Fleetwood Mac's "Tusk"

I had never heard of this album until it was featured in Melody Maker's "Unknown Pleasures" book in 1995.  A few more years passed before I heard a note of music from it, via the Fleetwood Mac Greatest Hits compilation.  After that, more than a decade passed until I heard the full album.  I bought the 2CD reissue, wrote a post about it, and all these years later I mostly agree with everything I wrote.  Nevertheless, I didn't particularly like "Tusk".  I would dig it out once in a while and subject myself to it for the sake of investigating it's merits because there's little doubt that it's notable album in rock history by one of rock's all-time great bands.  I had read the essays, heard about the revisionist histories, knew about its critical resuscitation but still couldn't find much to like about it.

You see, when I was growing up and became "aware" of the FM radio rotation, just about every track from "Rumours" was regularly played on the radio -- some five years after it was first released.  In the 80's, both "Mirage" and "Tango In the Night" were massive hit albums that ensured Fleetwood Mac's position as radio (and music video!) stalwarts through the end of the decade.  "Tusk", on the other hand, might as well have never existed.  The songs weren't on the radio, nobody talked about it, and nobody seemed to own it.  

"Tusk" rode the post-"Rumours" momentum wave and sold millions of copies (it is a double album, so each sale counted as two copies).  Why exactly did it become invisible for the bulk of the next twenty years?  There was no "Rumours hangover" -- nobody rejected "Tusk" because they were tired of FM's dominance.  Tracks from "Rumours" remained on the radio for years, so clearly the public wanted more Fleetwood Mac.  Michael Jackson didn't experience a "Thriller hangover", huge albums are regularly followed by more huge albums.  In "Unknown Pleasures", Simon Reynolds puts most of the blame at Lindsey Buckingham's feet, suggesting that his wonton experiments sabotaged "Tusk"'s commercial prospects.  He's certainly correct on this point.  But he also paints Buckingham as a charlatan looking to remain relevant for the punk and new wave crowd, and failing.  This does not seem to be reflected in then-contemporary reviews.  

In Stephen Holden's marvelous review for Rolling Stone (December 13, 1979), he calls Buckingham the "artistic lynchpin" of "Tusk", with his compositions being the glue that provides a semblance of cohesion to the album. With remarkable insight, he notes that the era of the multi-million dollar audiophile megaproduction must be reaching its end, while at the same time standing slack-jawed about how wonderful it all sounds.  Robert Christgau also praised "Tusk" (assigning it a B+ grade) and Buckingham's songs in particular.  Contemporary critics recognized that Buckingham wasn't the problem, rather, he was the standout.  With audiences, it was obviously a different story.

Listening to it now, I finally understand what Holden wrote about more than four decades ago. On "Tusk",  Buckingham draws inspiration from post punk and transforms it in a way that only he can.  He practically invents a new genre for himself, linking crude noisemaking with state-of-the-art studio technology, combining his signature gossamer guitars with lo-fi country-tonk.   Stevie Nicks is top form as well.  While "Sara" is the most well-known, each of the five songs she contributed is excellent.   The weak link, unfortunately is McVie.  With the exception of "Think About Me", none of her songs come close to the spark she brought to "Rumours".  "Over and Over" is pleasant enough, but it's a continuation of "Rumours", i.e. exactly the sound of a "Rumours 2" that Buckingham sought so desperately to avoid.  

The running order does nobody any favours.  It's a disjointed patchwork of competing ideologies between the three songwriters.  The mood shifts with every song and the album never gets a chance to establish any kind of rhythm.    This would be less of a problem in the CD/mp3 age, because you could easily program a new track order.  But with LP's, listeners were just as likely to get frustrated and not bother to flip the record over.  They should have given each of them an entire album side to do as they wished, but that might have made it feel less like a Fleetwood Mac album and more like three new solo albums by its main composers. 

Is "Tusk" better than "Rumours", as some seem to suggest (even Mick Fleetwood claims it's his favourite FM album)?  Let's not be ridiculous.  But it's a very rewarding album and a fascinating experiment from a band that wasn't known for doing wild experiments during the post-Buckingham/Nicks era.   

Mandle Cheung and Mahler 2

Along comes another rich guy with Mahlerian dreams of grandeur who lives out his fantasies by paying a princely sum to conduct a leading orchestra.  We've seen this before with Gilbert Kaplan.  Now it's Mandle Cheung "hiring" the Toronto Symphony Orchestra for his own personal vanity project.  Are we supposed to care? 

OK, enough with the cynicism.  Like Kaplan, Cheung is a patron of the arts whose goal is to promote classical music to the widest possible audience.  In this case, Cheung is paying for the orchestra, the concert hall, and for the promotion of the concert.  It's true that one could argue that he could do all that and also hire a professional conductor instead of placing himself at the centre of the performance.  However, Mahler performances these days are all too common.  This performance is different because the conductor is the outsider, he's the draw just as much as the music.  

I love Mahler 2 just as much as the next classical music fan, I saw Bradley Cooper whip up a sweat soaked frenzy in "Maestro", but I know I have no business conducting this work no matter how much I might dream about it.   People have the right to be skeptical and to make jokes.  But why smirk about a supposed loss of artistic credibility?   "It must be about the money" ... of course it's about the money!  No orchestra can survive without arts grants and philanthropy.  There's a place for upholding authenticity and also a place for shameless moneymaking strictly for entertainment purposes.  I don't think there's any shame in aspiring to the former while also proudly admitting to the latter.  Modern orchestras are both supremely talented and enviably versatile, they can manage both.   

Would modern arts critics scoff at Haydn for working most of his career as the personal composer of a Hungarian noble?  Would the music have been better if he had not done it all "for the money" he received from wealthy patrons?  Would a modern day Haydn have to be a struggling and starving artist to remain authentic?  

I searched online for reviews of Cheung's performance last night.  As of this posting, I couldn't find any major media outlets who covered the concert.  I could only find a few message board posts.  Cheung was well practiced and energetic, but didn't succeed in leading the orchestra to the highs that the music demands.  Hey, that's what they said about Kaplan too.  This type of thing isn't unique to classical music either.  Sometimes celebrities dabble in pro wrestling, and the expectations are on a parallel scale compared to two pros having a match.  If it draws a crowd, then it works.  If celebrity involvement becomes a weekly thing, then the audience will likely get bored and turn away from the product.    There's also place for this alternate form of classical music entertainment.  

Update:   Shortly after posting this, the Globe and Mail posted a glowing review of Cheung's concert.  

Brian Wilson RIP

Here is the first line of Brian Wilson's obit in the NYT: 

Brian Wilson, who as the leader and chief songwriter of the Beach Boys became rock’s poet laureate of surf-and-sun innocence, but also an embodiment of damaged genius through his struggles with mental illness and drugs, has died.

Continuing on, the article presents a balanced picture of his considerable fame and talents, as well as repeated references to his personal struggles and failings.  In contrast, in their obit for Sly Stone, published just three days earlier, the star is depicted as a trailblazer who also happened to be a little bit eccentric.  The dysfunction of his final five decades is largely brushed off as merely unusual behavior from a man who was also a recluse.  I have nothing against Sly Stone.  Both Wilson and Stone are legends.  But let's be un-PC for a moment.  Wilson went crazy, but reconstituted his life and had a remarkable final act from the 90's onward.  Stone went crazy and remained crazy, becoming at best considered to be half-myth, half-punchline from the early 80's until the end of his life.  Why then, in this pair of obits, are Brian Wilson's drug use and psychological problems placed front and centre in defining him as a person, whereas the same issues are nearly buried in the case of Sly Stone?  

CNN's obituary is just as bad: 

Wilson’s life was marked just as much by struggles with substance abuse and mental illness as it was by repeated comebacks, remarkable talent and timeless songs that still echo across the country, decades after their release.  [emphasis mine]

The Guardian doesn't even wait for the main text, they lay it out in the subheader:   

Musician, who suffered from mental health problems, wrote and produced the 1966 album Pet Sounds – seen by many as the greatest album of all time. 

Apparently none of these "trusted" news sources has a problem with stigmatizing mental illness when a rich white person is involved.  

I'm actually not trying to make a point about race.  My main point concerns the extraordinary inflexibility of the mainstream media and their tendency to cling to entrenched narratives.  For nearly two decades, the story of Brian Wilson was that of a guy who burned himself out and fell under the spell of a corrupt psychotherapist.  It wasn't a secret.  People joked about it.  Barenaked Ladies wrote a song about it.  But gradually, Wilson wrote himself a new reality.  The release of "Pet Sounds" on CD was essential in introducing the album to a new generation of fans who mainly knew the Beach Boys for their surfing songs.  I was one of those fans.  "Pet Sounds" rejoined the discussions of the greatest albums ever made.  Wilson broke free of Dr. Landy, released new music, got married.  Then he took things up a level when he completed "Smile" in 2004.  

It's easy to forget what a huge deal the release of "Smile" was, especially since it isn't really listened to much anymore and has already become something of a forgotten classic.  It was nothing less than a rite of passage for Beach Boys devotees (i.e. nearly everyone), and if you weren't there at the time, it may be hard to fully grasp the collective, unrestrained excitement of multiple generations of fans and critics finally getting to experience his album -- in some approximate form reflective of the original concept from 1967.   The most mythical uncompleted album of the rock era was finally here.  And then, having finally heard "Smile" following the decades of hype, it was reshelved.  Think about a wedding, graduation, or some other big life event.  You look forward to it for what feels like forever, documenting every moment as it unfolds. But once it's over, there's such a sense of relief that you tuck the photo album away on a high shelf and rarely feel the urge to revisit it.  That's life.  But when "Smile" was on top, it was glorious.  The album and the subsequent world tour were fitting victory laps for Wilson -- redemption at last for the past and current boy genius.  

That should be the Brian Wilson story -- those remarkable final acts.  Not the drugs, the obesity, the abuse he took from his father, the estrangement from his friends, family, and bandmates.  Getting back to entrenched narratives and the incompetence of the press -- it wasn't always this way.  When Ray Charles died, I don't recall obits that emphasized his drug use and promiscuity (twelve children with ten different women).  The focus was on the music, and post-recovery, post-80's persona (soul music legend, soft drink pitchman, TV staple).  When Miles Davis died in 1991, the NYT wrote that he "defined cool" and made no mention of his very seedy past.  Whether that was a fair take or not is besides the point.  The media used to know how to focus on the art, to look past the turmoil and emphasize the happy ending.  That was the narrative of every episode of "VH1: Behind the Music" , it's a story they used to know how to tell, when they wanted to tell it.  

Brian Wilson lived an incredible life.  He wrote some of the most memorable, yet complex pop songs ever.  In the words of Timothy White in "The Nearest, Faraway Place", Wilson invented California.  He'll be sorely missed by three (four?) generations of fans and musical peers.  His legacy will continue to inspire for years to come.

IPO dir. Christoph Koncz, Clara Jumi Kang

According to his bio, Koncz is a young conductor who seems to gravitate toward classical and early Romantic music, setting him apart from many of his peers who tend to favor impressionistic and more modern works.  I expected a more fiery rendition of Beethoven's Leonore Overture No. 3, but the result was somewhat lukewarm—essentially a lackluster run-through of a piece that both the orchestra and conductor could probably play in their sleep.

The unexpected highlight of the evening was Kang's captivating performance of Britten's Violin Concerto, a piece I knew nothing about but found myself entranced with its bewitching tonality. The soloist must demonstrate incredible range and tone control to bring this piece to life, and Kang delivers in spades with technical wizardry that is often jaw-dropping. Hypnotic trills and sustained high notes abound. The concerto also has an unconventional structure -- starting with a slow movement, followed by a scherzo --  and credit goes to entire orchestra and to Koncz for mastering its unique pacing.

Following the intermission, Beethoven's Symphony No. 3 (Eroica) was almost a come down from the high of the Britten Concerto.  Once again, Koncz took several moments to settle into the piece, fully bringing out its grandeur by about halfway through the slow movement. The scherzo was electric, and the finale was exciting, though it felt a bit underplayed toward the end.  Overall, I felt the evening was greater than the sum of its parts. The Beethoven pieces largely delivered, and the Britten was a knockout performance.

Eurovision 2025

This year's event had nearly everything you could ask for—extraordinary performances, impressive spectacles, and a tight race that came down to the final televote announcement.  I certainly did not expect Israel to nearly win the whole thing.  The bookmakers all predicted a Swedish runaway -- by the night of the final, it was Sweden for the win with nearly even odds against the other 25 countries in the field, with Austria as a solid second.  Everyone else had only a distant chance of winning.  

In reality, it was a far more wide open race.   Thirteen countries received twelve points from at least one jury.    Some of those (UK, Germany, Albania, Armenia) went to countries that were nowhere close to the top of the table in the either the jury or televote.  Top marks were spread all over the voting table, with no country gaining any serious momentum.  Sweden earned only a single twelve points (from Iceland!) and were left off nearly half of the jury ballots.  Austria was the clear leader after the jury vote, albeit not in dominant fashion as we've seen in past years, where the competition was essentially wrapped up by the halfway point of the jury vote reveal.  Austria was left off five ballots completely.

A lot has been written about Israel "rigging" the competition and dominating the televote by nefarious means, ranging from complaints about Israeli sponsorship of the ESC (Moroccanoil) to accusations of vote stumping.  Actually, vote stumping is putting it mildly, many commenters have dipped their toes in outright Jew baiting and Jew hatred.  If such theories are to be believed, the long tentacles of Israel have breached literally dozens of unsuspecting European countries in a coordinated voting campaign, enabling millions to register illegal votes thanks to their multiple credit cards and sneaky manipulation of their VPN's, all enabled (presumably) by well-oiled financial backing provided by you-know-who.  Most of the accusers aren't dumb enough to outright say all this, but you know that many of them mean it.

It's easier for many people to believe in these wild fantasies than the alternative, grounded in reason, and not batshit crazy reality.  Maybe people ... wait, let me gather my thoughts ... maybe people liked the song.  Maybe they were uplifted by its message of hope.  Maybe they knew something about Yuval Raphael's backstory and her road to the Eurovision stage, and were inspired to vote for her in the same way that millions were inspired to vote for Ukraine in 2022 or for Conchita Wurst in 2014 or for plenty of other sentimental competitors over the years.    

Perish the thought that *some* online campaigning might have taken place in the interest of winning a prestigious singing competition.   Now that I think of it, in the recent Canadian and American elections (and doubtless in plenty of others, I'm sure), certain politicians many have (gasp) campaigned for voter attention!  Apparently, the Israel haters were under the impression that democracy was about the best candidate winning in a completely objective fashion.  And they also just discovered that as a voter, they have no way to voice their displeasure about the candidates that they don't like, or to simply exclude and disqualify candidates purely through the strength of their convictions.  Incredible -- incredible, I say! -- that certain elements of our society want the goalposts of democracy to be shifted when pesky Jews or Israelis are involved.

In all seriousness, it's simple math.  Eurovision isn't a run-off contest.  If Austria and Israel had faced a one-on-one televote, like they would in all the reality show talent contests, then I'm fairly certain that Austria would have won.  But those aren't the rules of the game, there are 26 finalists and if the televotes were distributed equally, each country would get about four percent.  If any one finalist gets a small boost in votes for any reason, perhaps to six or seven percent, it could be enough to pick up a lot of points.  You don't need anything close to a majority to win the televote, you just need more votes than your competition.  Israel might have gotten six percent of the vote , with the other 94 percent spread amongst the other twenty five finalists and spread so thin that it allowed Israel to come out on top.  That process, repeated in dozens of countries, led to Israel's dominant win in the televote.  

This process isn't unfair at all, it's how virtually every ESC is decided.  Israel has its fans, which obviously helps but lots of countries have their fans.  The Baltic countries support each other nearly every year, as do the DACH countries, and so on.  What is crystal clear is that the obnoxious "strategy" of negatively targeting Israel has failed spectacularly, all it has done is bring more sympathetic eyes to Israel's performances.  

The Eurovision finals are a blur of frenzied activity and even its biggest fans are challenged to keep up.  Each year, immediately after watching the finals broadcast, I would be hard pressed to recall anything about half of the performances from memory.  Unless you're taking notes or actively posting on social media, there's too much going on.  Anything that makes a performance stand out and stick in people's memories is important for registering votes.  How outrageous and bonkers can you be?  That's been the challenge for many going on at least fifteen years.  JJ from Austria has an unforgettable, wholly unique voice, that's why he won (and deservedly so).  Finland has a knack for staging ESC performances that sound and look different from everyone else's (who could forget Lordi and Kaarija).  As for Israel, nobody took a bathroom break during their performances these past couple of years.  Controversy sells.    The Spanish broadcaster posted a political message immediately before Yuval Raphael took the stage.  It will likely cost them a hefty fine.   It didn't matter -- the Spanish televote awarded twelve points to Israel.  Sweden has proven itself to be a hellhole for Jews and was the centre of controversy and protest when they hosted the ESC last year.  The Swedish televote awarded twelve points to Israel.  Tens of thousands protest against Israel nearly every week in London.  The UK televote awarded twelve points to Israel.  Perhaps 90 percent of the voters in each of these hate Israel or hated the song or what have you.  It really doesn't matter, the math still checks out.  

And now for a few thoughts about the music:

Austria.  As mentioned above, JJ is a unique talent and is a deserving winner.  Maybe he's a bit of a ringer (a performer in the Vienna State Opera), but who cares?  That type of singing doesn't always translate to a pop music viewership, but he pulled it off.

UK: Their song generated a lot of hate, but I thought it was a catchy bit of faux-Spice Girls bubblegum pop.

Estonia: Hard not to love this.

Iceland:  Campaigned to get Israel banned, yet blatantly plagiarized an Eyal Golan song, finished second to last in the final.  Karma sucks!  

Sweden: A whole load of nothing, I have no earthly idea why they were so highly favoured by the bookmakers.  Sweden usually delivers the goods, so maybe it was a built-in bias?  

Albania: I LOVE when Eurovision goes EBM/gothwave.

FireAid Benefit Concert

I watched the nearly six-hour FireAid special on Netflix, and I don't really want to critique it because the audiences obviously enjoyed it and they raised a ton of money for the worthiest of causes.  However, I do have a few thoughts:

• This was an old set of performers.  I counted eight acts where the featured musician was seventy or older.  That's not counting the guest vocalists with Nirvana (two of the four were over seventy).  Some of them were transcendent.  Stevie Wonder dominates every stage on which he appears, to the point that it's not even fair to the other performers.  Rod Stewart has no business looking or sounding as good as he does as age eighty.  I was surprised to discover that John Fogerty and Stephen Stills are still compelling performers.  But I couldn't help but wonder: who is going to appear at these benefit concerts in 10-20 years?  Will we see a never-ending parade of Nirvana and No Doubt reunions? Or think of it this way: LiveAid is often seen as a gathering of millionaire dinosaur rock stars.  But virtually none of the major performers were born even as early as the 1930's (Tina Turner was born in November 1939).  The most senior acts were in their mid-40's (e.g. Paul McCartney).  The members of RHCP are in their 60's.  Elton John (the headliner in Wembley in 1985) was younger than the FireAid headliner at the Intuit Dome, Lady Gaga.  
• Gracie Adams, Billie Eilish, and Olivia Rodrigo received probably the biggest ovations, thanks to the lungs of their teenaged fans.  All three are great in different ways, although for me Gracie Adams was something of a revelation.  As far as confessional teen drama ballads go, her interpretation of the style was my favourite.
• Many performers opted for acoustic sets, possibly wishing to strike a more serious, somber tone considering the circumstances.  Others just plowed ahead with their usual bombast.  Both approaches worked.  These shows had a little something for everyone.  
• These shows featured "classic" artists (i.e. the aforementioned boomer acts), 90's hangers on/afterthoughts (Black Crowes, Green Day, Alanis Morissette), millenial radio pop faves (Lady Gaga, Katy Perry, Pink), and the current crop of early 20's teen heroes (Billie Eilish et. al.).  There is a big gap between roughly 1995-2008, where apparently no new megastars were made.  
• I do wonder about the next generation of stars.  Anderson.Paak and Jelly Roll are both veterans of the music biz but rose to national prominence relatively recently.  Both are around age forty.  Where will Billie Eilish be in twenty years?  My feeling is that artists who become global phenomena in their teens and early twenties don't stay unstoppable for more than about fifteen years, they eventually burn out (Rihanna) or settle into a part-timer role (Mariah Carey, Christina Aguilera, Britney Spears).  So who will be around as a can't miss, cross-generational, bankable star in the 2040's?     

The Rolling Stones are featured on "The Rest Is History"

This might seem like an unusual topic for a history podcast, but co-host Dominic Sandbrook wrote his doctorate on American politics in the 1960's and has written multiple books on post-WWII Britain.  He has a unique talent for tapping into the essence of baby boomer politics and culture. In the first episode of a two-part series, he demonstrates a keen understanding of how the Stones filled a unique niche in British culture, along with a solid grasp of the music criticism of the time.

Naturally, the Beatles also lurk in and out of the story.  Sandbrook opens up a contentious debate topic by claiming that if the Beatles hadn't come along, then some other British group would have blown up just as big in their place.  He doesn't argue that another group could have matched the Beatles' musical genius, only that another band's mania would have filled the same cultural space occupied by the Beatles.  His point is that the conditions were ripe for a group to break through into superstardom.  The market had been wholly prepped toward the teen demographic, and skyrocketing music sales indicated that the interest was absolutely there.  The cyclical nature of teen heartthrob bands in the six decades since seems to prove this point.  When it comes to "boy" or "girl" bands transcending the culture, it's always just been a matter of time.   

Thus, the genius of the Beatles (and the Stones) isn't born out by the fact that they broke through, it's that they lasted as long as they did.  Careers were short in the 50's and 60's, which is why most artists were struggling to maintain a career on the oldies circuit less than a decade after their peak. A new cohort of teenagers came rose up every couple of years, while the previous cohort aged out and took their favourite bands with them.  A promoter had one or two years tops to milk every red cent out of a musical fad before it faded away permanently.  A record would become a hit and would be quickly followed by a slew of copycat and/or response records.  The turnaround time had to be weeks or months.  Long term investment in a band for their artistic vision was a concept that had little meaning.  All in all, yes, I believe that some other band other than the Beatles would have been pushed into a pre-arranged spot that had been carved out for them by the record industry.  They probably wouldn't have broken America or lasted beyond a couple of albums.  But in the short term, it would have worked.  

Sandbrook describes the Andrew Loog Oldham enigma wonderfully.  Here, I hadn't appreciated many key aspects about his role in shaping the band into what they became.  Oldham was just nineteen years when he started managing the Stones.  At the time, he knew nothing about music or the music industry.  He just knew that there was a lot of money to be made.  The image of the Stones as a bad boy group of misfits (leading to the infamous "would you let your daughter marry a Rolling Stone?") was entirely manufactured by him.  In reality, the Beatles were the true working class misfits, but were presented as clean cut and wholly presentable.  The Stones were middle class ex-grammar school students.  Mick Jagger dropped out of the London School of Economics to devote himself fully to the band.  Charlie Watts trained as a graphic designer, loved jazz more than rock and roll, and was married until the day he died to a woman he met before even joining the Stones.  There was nothing even remotely bad boy about him.  But somehow, a complete industry neophyte like Oldham correctly read the cultural winds where so many others had failed.  He recognized the need to market his crew as a stark alternative to the Beatles.  He recognized that the prevailing trends were moving towards bands writing their own song -- a bold risk that paid off when Jagger and Richards proved to be brilliant songwriters.

Part 2 jumps ahead to the end of the 60's, covering the death of Brian Jones and the tragedy of Altamont -- topics that fall even more into Sandbrook's wheelhouse.