Let’s Talk About Celine: Authenticity from Another Perspective
by Dion on Nov.04, 2009, under Uncategorized
I just finished reading Carl Wilson’s excellent and engaging book Let’s Talk About Love: A Journey to the End of Taste. Written for the 33 1/3 series, where prominent music writers examine a specific album, Wilson did the opposite of what most writers do. Instead of tackling a favourite album of his, he decided to look at one of his least favourite albums: Celine Dion’s Let’s Talk About Love. Wilson looks at aspects of art, philosophy, neuroscience, history and other interesting perspectives to provide a thoughtful and erudite examinations of the album and what it stands for culturally and sonically. A few weeks ago I examined the idea of authenticity in terms of band backgrounds, and now I want to revisit the idea, this time looking at the concept on emotional terms. If you want a much more thorough, entertaining and original reading of this topic, read Wilson’s book. These are just my own mildly derivative thoughts on the ideas he brought up.
The idea of what constitutes ‘authentic’ is one that fascinates me, and the idea of authenticity seems arbitrarily applied by critics. A band like New Found Glory will be (rightly, in my opinion) critically reviled for peddling their bland form of pop punk, while Rivers Cuomo’s formula for a Weezer record is just as tiring but much more warmly received by critics. Bands like Arcade Fire are praised for their bombast and histrionics, while Meat Loaf is made fun of. I’m not making judgments on these artists, but why is emotion sometimes a good thing (sensitive indie singer-songwriters) and sometimes a bad thing (big pop ballads on Pop Idol)? Who determines whether a band is ironic (the Darkness) or derivative (um, the Darkness), other than the mood and general disposition of whichever critics happen to set the general consensus?
Related to originality is the idea of subversion. Again, an obvious (but little asked) question is why, exactly, we see subversion as a good thing. Sure, some subversion and rejection of authority is a good thing, but with too much, we lack any common bond, and even a misanthrope like me knows that’s a bad thing. Not only is it a bad thing, but we’re fooling ourselves if we think we’re trailblazers or somehow original in welcoming something new. We’re all following somebody. I’m just following the nerdy middle-class kid without a real job, while Metallica fans are following the jocks and home economics aficionados are following Celine. So does authenticity even matter, as long as something moves somebody? Some people get married to Nickelback songs. I think that’s horrific, but it obviously means something to them.
Does this authenticity then derive from originality? Even that sentence makes a big assumption that originality is something to strive for. A lot of people listen to music as comfort, and is that any less real than my desire for something new when I listen to music? Another oft-overlooked problem is that if ‘authenticity’ is derived from an artist’s original response to stimuli, then our responses to this song are themselves derivative and inauthentic. Put another way, if an artist’s cover another artist’s work is somehow inauthentic (as critics sometimes argue), then so is our (derivative) enjoyment of this work. If authenticity relies on this originality, the only ‘real’ music would be that which we make up and sing to ourselves. Given my (and others’) singing voice, this would be an unfortunate outcome.
The easy answer, embraced by fans and critics alike (at least when it suits their needs), is that music is a unifying force, media by which we can feel that we are not alone. The Arcade Fire did this with a bunch of white, awkward 20-something kids, but what critics overlook is the fact that Celine Dion has also done this, to the tune of 175 million records sold. The flipside to the universality argument is the patronising (but often right) attitude that just because it’s popular does not mean it’s good. This opens up a whole new, and equally wriggly, can of worms. Why is popularity seen as such a negative thing when applied to contemporary culture? In the past, popularity was seen as a valid gauge of the quality of art (at least some of the time). Shakespeare, for instance, was quite popular in his time. So why is popularity a good thing when applied to times long past, but seen as a negative in current society? And when will I stop asking rhetorical questions?
I think the most damning criticism of Celine is not that she’s inauthentic however. I think the more egregious complaint against her music is that she’s boring (to ME at least, and that’s an important qualifier). What she does, I’ve heard it all before, or something similar enough not to care. However, I’m also self-aware enough to recognise that I don’t listen to music like the average person. I love new stuff and I love quantity, which is fine, but so is familiarity and small doses of listening. Many people don’t listen to music 10 hours a day, and newness is somewhat necessary when large quantities are consumed. Smaller consumers’ ideas of newness are different, but not necessarily inferior. If you don’t know the Beatles very well, you probably don’t want to move onto their more challenging successors. Related to the boring argument is the general sterility of Dion’s sound. Again, my constructivist roots show themselves when I argue that this idea of sterility is one that is almost entirely self-constructed. This ‘sterile’ approach to recording was once fresh (Phil Spector’s kitchen-sink production – he actually produced some unreleased Celine Dion recordings), and what’s standard for me is not standard for everyone. In addition, qualities derided in this form of art may very well be applauded in another. As Wilson points out, Celine Dion’s vocal histrionics ARE quite self-indulgent. However, so was James Joyce’s wordplay.
Another argument I find rather curious - and almost completely useless as an objective measure of ‘good’ - is the idea that quality will stand the test of time. In general, I do think that only good art – whether good is measured by popularity or critical acclaim – will really stand the test of time, but I also think that a lot of good art falls by the wayside through no fault of its own, and some art is propagated through nostalgia, duty or simple bloody-mindedness rather than quality. History favours the winner, and the winner may result from factors beyond simple talent (whatever that means anyway, as I have yet to see an objective measure of ‘talent’). I can think of many examples to illustrate these points. Looking to literature, I have no doubt that Shakespeare is really quite good. I am also pretty confident that there were other very good playwrights in that time period. However, Shakespeare’s work survived in a physical form (paper is a fragile method of dissemination) whereas others’ work didn’t. This is not belittling Shakespeare, but other good art can be lost because of nothing more than poor bookkeeping. This can likewise be applied to music. We all know the famous lost album stories, and sure the Beatles are great, but if it wasn’t for Ed Sullivan and myriad other exogenous snowball factors working to make sure the band was known throughout the world, the Beatles might have had to settle for being only Liverpool’s finest, and we might be calling some other band the world’s greatest.
This test of time argument also implies that ‘stickiness’ is good when it comes to art. This can often be true, but I’ll also remind you that some of the most memorable songs are also the most horrible. I can more easily hum ‘Who Let the Dogs Out’ for you than I can hum Mozart’s Symphony Number 41. Taking this longer term approach to artistic merit also implies a uniformity of taste throughout the ages, and I can’t buy that. I can respect Verdi’s technical prowess in opera (just as I can recognise Yngwie Malmsteen’s prowess in masturbatory guitar work), but to be honest, opera does not speak to me emotionally. If you flip the timing on its head, the ludicrous nature of uniform tastes becomes evident. Can you imagine a Victorian aristocrat enjoying Public Enemy? I hate to break it to you, but even the Beatles, apparently the greatest band ever to exist, didn’t mean shit to 19th century peasants (or even a great number of 20th century ones, for that matter). So then why should centuries-old aristocratic music define me (or even this age’s) taste? We have filtered our worlds through different experiences, and require different soundtracks to these lives.
Have we (by which I mean ‘I’) now backed into a constructivist black hole of a reality where there is no objective measure of quality? In short, yes. And so what? NOTHING is true when it comes to something as emotional as music. You show me your musical truth, and I’ll show you my completely different one. While this lack of truth may be troublesome if it’s applied to something like morality, is lack of truth, objectivity, or any idea of ‘good’ so problematic when it comes to music? Why can’t you just like something because you enjoy it? Why does it have to mean something more? Sure, deep and meaningful enjoyment is important, but if we concentrate too much on that, we miss out on a full spectrum of other kinds of more fleeting enjoyment. We allow ourselves to enjoy both fleeting and lasting beauty in other areas (think flowers versus paintings) but seem to insist that musical beauty has to be lasting. Sometimes I like a giddy headrush of sugary pop music. Sure, it’s a different enjoyment from more ‘classic’ bands or albums, but it’s enjoyment nonetheless. Taste is as much about what you’re willing to even open yourself up to the possibility of enjoying – what you’re willing to just give a CHANCE. Animal Collective fans, admit to yourselves: how many of you have actually even listened to a Celine Dion album front to back? I know I haven’t. Maybe I’d hate it, but I haven’t even opened myself up to the possibility that I MIGHT like it. Elvis’s 50,000,000 Fans Can’t be Wrong, but then again, neither can the Fall’s ironic 50,000 fans. They’re both correct, and in essence, I’m for whatever gets you through the night, even if it’s Celine. I’ll keep my Fall, but I have no right to judge you if you want to listen to the Titanic theme.
New Music News
One new album raised mild interest in my brainhole this week, as much-hyped band Local Natives released their debut album, Gorilla Manor. Comparisons to Fleet Foxes abound, and they are mostly correct. Fleet Foxes can be a bit morose at times however, and Local Natives don’t take themselves quite so seriously. At times shouty and exuberant, they also bring to mind artists such as Cold War Kids or Akron/Family. I need more time with the album, but after a few listens, it strikes me as good, but not great. It lacks a certain catchiness, and I fear that critics have been taken in by the current bandwagon love for pretty harmonies, while overlooking a certain deficit in songcraft. Still, the album’s worth a listen - make up your own mind and don’t take my word for these things.
In other exciting music news, Spoon have announced a release date for their new album. Tranference comes out 26 January 2010. A few songs have been leaked online, and the album will include Got Nuffin, released as part of an EP earlier this year. See you next week!
PS - I seem to lack any Celine Dion MP3s to post to accompany this story. You will have to make do. I suggest you simply shriek `NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! FAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEVVVVVVVVVVEEEEEEERRRRR YOU ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and you will get the general feeling I was going for.
The Arcade Fire - (Antichrist Television Blues)
