What would happen if we gave every random indie rock band the same kind of free pass we give the legends? I was reading a Bob Dylan biography once, and the author, going word by word through some obscure song, was trying to explain away a horribly awkward rhyme by arguing that Dylan purposefully included the line to make a point about the impossibility of perfection in art or the necessity of the human element in songwriting or some other nonsense. The idea that Dylan, somewhere in the midst of forty-plus albums and literally hundreds of songs, simply mailed one in never even occurred to the biographer. Since the artist is a god, any problem in interpretation must rest with the listener.
What would happen if we reviewed Youth Group’s Skeleton Jar with this same mindset? Would we say that the band obviously has much to say about the transient nature of American pop culture? Would we say that this culture of disposable art led them to create a record so incredibly forgettable that I actually have to be listening to it right now, as I review it, to remember anything about any of the songs?
Would we register their despair over the current process of star-making in the indie rock scene? Would we nod knowingly at their clever musical allusion to bands so intent on creating the kind of moody atmospheric pop perfect for teen drama TV soundtracks that they forget to include any hooks at all? Would we chuckle at the fact that, in a radio market that demands two midtempo rock singles, a ballad, and then an album of filler, Youth Group chose to structure their album in exactly this pattern (“Shadowland,” “Skeleton Jar,” the ballad “Lillian Lies,” and then nothing)?
Would we applaud the band for creating a concept album about the sad-but-beautiful music industry that sprouted up overnight since Death Cab hit it big on The OC? Would we say any of those things? Of course not. We would write a few sarcastic words about a formulaic record with maybe three good songs, and then we would move on. There are no free passes. |