Genre Genesis

My interest in the notion of 'polymusical' tastes began because the songs I was writing myself seemed not to fall into the same categories as each other, but recently I've been thinking about where all the categories came from in the first place. My theory is that over a period of time, the contributions of numerous lesser lights finally culminated in the creations of one artist or group who synthesized their styles into one clearly defined style that formed the jumping-off point for thousands to follow.

So, for example, in simplistic terms, every modern musical is the result of composers and librettists struggling to live up to the legacy of Gilbert & Sullivan, who perfected the comic opera form that had been around for centuries. In the same way, every metal band is a child or grandchild of Led Zeppelin, who, as the first distorted-electric blues band, drew on generations of blues players, but created a new genre by changing the instrumentation and exaggerating the vocal style.

R&B is more difficult, because not only are the roots lost in poor historical documentation, but there are so many sub-styles, each with their own parent. Nevertheless, when the recording industry came into existence, the records of Lead Belly, Henry Thomas and "Blind" Lemon Jefferson had the effect of popularizing the music of the black American south, laying the foundations that would lead to the Motown sound. It's easy to miss the fact that, although Motown put out songs by many artists, the sound was the result primarily of one group of session musicians (The Funk Brothers) who played on dozens of hits, many of which were written by one group of songwriters (Holland-Dozier-Holland) thus codifying the style. I would argue that these two groups of creators are largely responsible for how R&B music sounds today, although much latitude needs to be extended as it's a huge category.

One of the most interesting genres for this historical dissection is Country Music, which, in contrast with the Blues Music of poor black American southerners, was the folk music of poor white American southerners. Originally known as 'hillbilly music,' it married instrumentation from Ireland (fiddle), Germany (dulcimer), Italy (mandolin), Spain (guitar) and West Africa (banjo), and later added the steel guitar from Hawaii. Generations of Appalachian settlers from these origins combined their talents and developed hillbilly music, and it all came together when one man laid it down on wax and became the voice of the genre: Jimmie Rodgers, The Father of Country Music.

Watch as this woman smiles and nods while Jimmie casually dashes off a couple of verses about shooting up his ex and her new boyfriend.

Phoenix Careers

The trajectory of a musical artist's career tends to follow one of a couple of patterns: if the artist has gifts of a limited nature, they might enjoy success with a memorable song as a young person or band, then falter after a few lesser attempts at the brass ring; if the artist is unusually gifted, they might continue their ascendency through a series of hits. But once in a while, an artist or band can power through after the first decline and reinvent themselves for a second chance.

Of course, there are numerous variations on this theme, for example, the artist whose initial career is unknown outside a small geographic circle but hits it big with the reinvention. Think Alanis Morissette, whose dance-pop first release went platinum in Canada, or Katy Perry, who put out a gospel album as Katy Hudson before connecting with Morissette's old co-writer, Glen Ballard, and becoming an international pop-star.

David Bowie made a career of reinventing himself for every album, but it felt more like restlessness, and applied more to his visual image and less to the music, which still sounded like Bowie each time.

And some bands were forced to reinvent themselves when they lost a key band member: AC/DC, Chicago, Pink Floyd, Yes, Genesis and The Doobie Brothers all changed their sound to greater or lesser degrees when a founding member quit, was sidelined or died. For Floyd it was the launch of the most successful part of their careers, for AC/DC it just changed the sound of the vocals, and for the rest it led to a slicker, more radio-friendly sound that won new fans as it alienated old ones.

The reinventions that interest me, though, are the carefully mapped-out intentional ones: for example, the Beastie Boys were once a hard-core punk band, but after cobbling together a hip-hop song out of a prank phone call, they threw themselves into rock-flavoured rap and made hits. Or, after a series of bubblegum pop hits as The Turtles, the principal members of that band adopted the moniker Flo & Eddie and continued their careers as respected members of Zappa's Mothers of Invention (conspicuously remote from bubblegum pop) as well as providing session vocals on many other radio hits.

And then there are the artists who just stopped for a few years or decades, disappeared to relax, maybe write some more, maybe live a peaceful life out of the public eye, then dropped back into the scene, as strong as they ever were, no reinvention necessary. Here's an example of that:

Time (Signature) after Time (Signature)

I was thinking about how many (or perhaps how few) popular songs there are that change time signatures in the middle. Just to be clear, I'm not talking about prog-rock and jazz, they do that all the time, almost as a point of pride;  Zappa almost never wrote anything in one time signature, Dave Brubeck made a career of exploring odd signatures, and you'd be hard-pressed to find a track by Yes, King Crimson or Genesis that kept to one sig all the way through. Led Zeppelin experimented with odd time-signatures, but I'm pretty sure all their biggest hits were in straight time. I'm talking about songs that were hits on the radio, songs about which no one particularly commented on the odd time-signature changes. (Genesis did, however, have a Top-40 hit with "Your Own Special Way" which switched signature and tempo from verse to chorus)

Anyway,  I thought of a few examples, and as preparation for writing a blog post about it, I decided to Google and see if other people had made lists of examples. It quickly became pretty clear that although there are occasional examples peppered around the charts over the years, this trick was used most extensively by The Beatles and basically as a one-off for anyone else. It made me wonder if I'd stumbled upon one of the secrets of their success, out there in plain sight with no one paying enough attention to pick up on it. Check the (incomplete, I know, but you have to start somewhere) list of changing time-signatures in popular music:

Dionne Warwick - I Say A Little Prayer
Mason Williams - Classical Gas
Lee Hazelwood & Nancy Sinatra - Some Velvet Morning
Queen - Bohemian Rhapsody
Bee Gees - Jive Talkin'
Blondie - Heart Of Glass
Pink Floyd - Money
Peter Gabriel - Solsbury Hill
Kelly Clarkson - Low
The Beatles - We Can Work It Out
                    - She Said She Said
                    - Dr. Robert
                    - Good Day Sunshine
                    - Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds
                    - Good Morning
                    - Strawberry Fields
                    - Being For The Benefit of Mr. Kite
                    - Everybody's Got Something To Hide Except Me And My Monkey
                    - All You Need Is Love
                    - Yer Blues
                    - Happiness Is A Warm Gun
                    - Here Comes The Sun
                    - I Me Mine
                    - Two Of Us
                    - Revolution
                    - Across The Universe
                    - I Want You (She's So Heavy)
                    - Don't Let Me Down
                    - Across The Universe
                    - Mean Mr. Mustard
                    - Martha My Dear
                    - Blackbird
                    - You Never Give Me Your Money
                    - Magical Mystery Tour
                    - The End

I'm sure you can think of others, both Beatles songs and songs by other artists, but I think my point is made. Most of the Beatles songs on the list are Lennon songs - one gets the feeling that he just thought up words that expressed what he wanted to say and adjusted the time to accommodate them. Maybe that's the secret: instead of slavishly contorting the lyrics to fit a predetermined melody, we should loosen up and allow the words to dictate how the music goes.

I'll leave you with another McCartney song that fits the criterion:

Polymusical Party

You know those friends you have who you hope never meet? The fun, foul-mouthed friends from university who would embarrass you horribly if you bumped into them while you were with your elegant socialite friend? The gorgeous but dim ex you couldn't introduce to your scientist friend? You know what I'm talking about. 

But don't we all go through our lives, meeting people from all walks, learning what we can from them all, tourists visiting other people's lives for a little while before returning to our own? We're sightseers, nourishing our curiosity with each contact, and though our destinations might be inclined to war with each other, they're still all interesting places to vacation.

That's how songs are.

In the same way that you'd call up a certain someone you haven't seen for a while, you might put on some music you haven't listened to for a while, and either would make you feel just the way that person or that song always made you feel. Everyone has a music collection, and I would bet that most people's collections have a variety of styles for different moods and different activities.

But do you often find multiple styles on one CD?

When a song forms in my head, it makes itself known in a certain way, and I feel I'm just translating it into existence. I don't have control over whether it wants to be a rock song, a country song, a pop song or a folk song. Of course I don't want them all to be the same, but sometimes it feels like these songs go out of their way to distinguish themselves from one another, like desperately non-conformist friends vying to stand out. So I've given in to the demands each song makes, and put them all down exactly as they've asked. Oh, yes, they argue with each other about the silliest things, and I've caught them rolling their eyes at something one of the others said, but generally, they get along pretty well for such an eclectic group. And I've decided on a name for them all, following up on my Life as Tourism theme. The full collection (still a work in progress) will be called "Sightseeing At Rush Hour."

So welcome, Sonny's Sightseers!

Listen to "Sightseeing At Rush Hour" so far here

Rococo vocals

Rococo was an 18th-century artistic aesthetic that took the rigid but ornate baroque style further into a freer, yet even more ornate direction. When I use the word to describe vocals, I'm referring to the modern practice of adding trills and runs to every long note in the song, something which has gotten out of hand in recent years.

Where did it all start? I think Ray Charles might have planted the seed, adding the occasional scalic warble to the ends of long notes to establish his signature style. Not many singers could even do that, so not many copied him until Stevie Wonder came along. He could sing anything, and I believe it was his influence that has resulted, second and third hand, in the epi-diva-ic of today. But Stevie always sang with taste, exploding into a little vocal arpeggio for only a moment before returning to the melody, just enough to make you stagger backward in amazement.

The habit of ornamentation as a standard part of every vocal performance crept in as Whitney Houston put out hit after hit full of runs, and that led to the Christina Aguilera school of adding arpeggiated frills at every possible opportunity. Nevertheless, both those ladies were capable of singing a recognizable melody in between the sixty-fourth notes.

Now I hear singers who bury the melody so far under a barrage of embellishment that it would take a trained musicologist months to discover it. My ears get dizzy listening to them, and if they ever had any emotional connection with the lyric, it's been lost in the quest for ever more showy technical proficiency.

It's worth remarking that not every new singer has fallen into this trap, and though perhaps capable of any run, the likes of Adele and Bruno Mars can still break your heart with a long uninterrupted note. Will it come full circle? Will the habit of ornamentation for its own sake be put in the rear-view mirror of musical history like the rococo period of visual art before it? Let's take a little trip down memory lane and hear how it's supposed to be done: