Little personal anecdote in lieu of introduction to the book review; feel free to skip if you aren’t interested.
Back in May, I was browsing at the record store when I stumbled upon something that made me squeak incredulously: a brand new record by… the Used. That took me back, as the Used’s record “In Love and Death” was the soundtrack to the worst heartbreak of my life, when I was twenty, but I had stopped keeping track of their new releases a long time ago. Also, at the time, I would have died rather than admitted listening to them, for fear of damaging my punk “cred”; now, at almost forty, I am – let’s say – unapologetic about listening to what I want, so I picked it up and brought it home. And. I. Freaking. Loved. It. Which felt so odd because it definitely had a time warp quality to it: their sound is still very much theirs, and Bert McCraken’s lyrics are still intense and deeply felt, but they are also clearly not twenty anymore either. After listening to it a few times, I started building a playlist that I called “Geriatric Emo”, because I guess that’s what bands like the Used and dweebs like me are now: geriatric millennials who still need music that can bring us to an emotional cathartic place in order not to go full bat-shit. And sometimes, we just want to bop our heads to some Paramore, and you can fuck off if you disapprove (whoever said my language would clean up as I got older was sadly mistaken).
The Used is only briefly mentioned in this book, but a lot of bands that they toured with and were contemporary to when they got started have a chapter dedicated to them (I actually saw them live once, opening for Rise Against, hence preserving my oh-so precious “cred”), and I have records by most of those bands, many of which I still listen to. This era was my early college years, and music was the glue to my mind. Against Me!, Rise Against and the Distillers were huge inspirations, making fun of My Chemical Romance was mandatory and begrudgingly listening to At The Drive In was… a thing. And obviously, as mentioned, there were bands you simply had to sneer at if you wanted to be seen as a real punk, and that is very much what Green Day and Blink 182 were: the sellouts. The bands that had made it big and were, somehow, too “pop” for some people’s sensibilities, and were considered to have traded their authenticity for a sound that would mean more commercial success (I am happy to admit that once I relaxed a bit, I ended up enjoying Green Day and Blink exactly for what they were without feeling weird about it).
The concept of selling out is about an ideological purity that has its limitation: no one wants to compromise their artistic vision and turn their work into just a product, which is why the punk scene was (rightfully) very skeptical of what major labels could and would do for them. On the other hand, bills need to be paid, musicians need to eat, and the buying power behind larger labels has created records of amazing quality that would simply not have been as good had they been done on the cheaper and smaller scale. It’s easy to throw the words “sellout” as a slur when you are part of an anti-corporation subculture, but what’s behind it is often pettiness and jealousy – and not simply concerns about artistic integrity. This was something that was such a huge concern in the 90s and the 2000s, but I feel like it’s no longer the raw nerve it used to be, given how different the landscape of the music industry is from what it was then. It’s also ridiculous to expect an artist’s work to never change or evolve: how would that keep the work interesting? Not to rip on Rancid forever, but spending two decades trying to recapture the glory of “… And Out Come the Wolves” has not made them more interesting musicians.
So of course I enjoyed it: I love nerding out about music, and a lot of the music mentioned in this book is stuff that is very dear to my little heart. Some of the stories I knew, but I also learned a lot of new info, that re-contextualized some of what I knew about bands I love, and what they went through to make art. Like, I knew Rancid were total assholes, but they are even worst than I thought. I’ve had direct experience of the sexism that goes with being a girl in a band, so the stories from the Donnas were no surprise, I just wished they had been able to enjoy themselves a bit more. I went to listen to some Thursday, out of curiosity, and I still don’t like them, sorry – but they had a weirdly unique experience of a major actually believing in them and getting screwed over by an indie label! I still rolled my eyes at My Chemical Romance’s song titles; while “Famous Last Words” remains a guilty pleasure of mine, pretty much all their other work makes me want to bash my head on a wall - but their story is still an interesting case of appealing to a broad demographic and knowing how to work the online aspect of their work.
I appreciate that the chapters are laid out chronologically, with regards to when the major label album came out for each band: you can see a certain evolution in the marketing methods, the way the audience connects with the bands, as you go from the mid-90s to the early 2000s, and things become a lot more about social media presence and a band’s capacity to navigate that intelligently. It also illustrates very well that there is no magic formula for a band to make it: Green Day and Jawbreaker were on the same label, same producer, same music video director, and one had insane success while the other one imploded. Art and success is not a muffin recipe!
I wish they had done a full chapter on Anti-Flag, because I love them and because they have an interesting tale of making an (arguably) iconic record on RCA and then taking the big label money to go on and start their own label to support their local scenes, and that is fucking awesome.
But over all, a very interesting book about a special time in the history of rock in general, punk rock specifically - and if you are in the throes of nostalgia like I have been recently, you will love this!
Also, this is my 1000th review on Goodreads! HOLY SHIT!