Sincerely,
In which Joe remarks on authenticity and decides it's overrated.
This piece was written with Bela Fleck’s My Bluegrass Heart, Ronnie Milsap’s Lost In The Fifties Tonight, and Don Williams’ 20 Greatest Hits playing as inspiration. Mostly unrelated thematically, but it had a great vibe. All are at least 8/10s. Check 'em out if you haven’t.
The other day I went on a walk and heard a song.
A tactical decision is being made not to reveal the name of the song because there is a fairly good chance it will get a featured slot on the upcoming end of year list. (Due at the end of December. Stay tuned. Get hyped.) It was a story song, one with a character driven premise that centered around the experiences of three distinct personalities. It was a great idea and the execution excelled, especially considering the difficult task of fusing together three points of view. I immediately raved about the song to some friends of mine and moved on with life.
Later that evening I was looking for a listen. I went back to Kameron Marlowe's record from earlier this year. It was a good album, one that has grown on me tremendously. As I recall from the backlog blurb review, it was one that initially a lack of sufficient personality seemed present to properly introduce Marlowe onto the large stage. It often descended into the typical Nashville booming drums and loud guitars, country rock style that is in vogue right now. However, upon further listening, there is more nuance to be found, especially within the writing. That and the excellence of Marlowe's voice drives me to return to the project. Some albums on first listen really stand out, and the more you listen, the more they descend into the background. This was the opposite.
The contrasts between even the most personal songs on the Marlowe record (Broke Down In A Truck or Leave The Light On) and this anonymous story song got the analytical juices flowing.
A noticeable shift has occurred. This is especially within mainstream circles, but broadly speaking applies to the entirety of the modern music scene. Story songs or even simply songs that portray events from outside the purview and perspective of the individual artist are in decline. This isn't to say that artists are not aiming for relatable content. Rather, the perspectives they choose to portray are from an authentic individualistic perspective. Broader relatability is derived by presenting the personal in sufficiently connectable platitudes that audiences can see themselves in another’s story.
For example, when Chris Young and Kane Brown decided to try and bolster their fading sense of authenticity and reinforce connections with fanbases, they put out the song Famous Friends. This deeply forgettable radio number one hit went through their own personal lives (allegedly) and the connections they have with ordinary people. And as a means of getting the point across, it worked like using a sledgehammer to bang in a nail for hanging a painting. But was it the most successful possible way of having accomplished this point? Would it not have made more sense to perhaps go and tell the story of a working class individual, perhaps someone that the audience could relate very well with and portray a deeply relatable idea via their formidable talents of vocal interpretation and emotional conveyance? Certainly doable.
Ironically, I am reminded of the Bon Jovi track Living on a Prayer which although fundamentally suffers as a blaring rock track that has been overplayed for most of the past 40 years, is actually a well structured working class tale delivered by the anthemic booming presentation of a young Jon Bon Jovi. Importantly, Bon Jovi doesn’t ask the audience to imagine that the glammed up hair metal vocalist standing on stage somehow is a working class docks worker. No, instead he uses his talents to paint someone else’s story.
Another noticeable shift is found when perusing modern press releases. Yes, you have to be either an industry insider or a massive music nerd for that sort of thing to come to your awareness. Time and time again the adjectives chosen by marketing teams to push the records are intimately personal. “This artist is displaying raw vulnerability”. “Spread over thirteen deeply personal tracks”. Another artist may “sketch their life out into music”. Aside from usually giving “athlete reporting they are in best shape of their life” voices, the ultimate marketing goal is clear. Make it abundantly obvious to a potential listener that this record reflects the authentic, (semi) autobiographical, lived experiences of this artist and this, above all else, is why you want to listen to the advertised artist.
Have we ever paused and collectively asked ourselves why this is? Why does music need to be personal? The growing labeling of nearly everything as “content” is certainly distasteful, but there is no ignoring the clear comparisons between music, film, literature, and other consumed forms of art. Yes, even short form click chasing TikTok videos have significant artistic overlap with longer more thoughtful forms of art/content. Take literature. Memoirs and autobiographies are an essential part of the industry. However, by no means is anyone suggesting that the ideal format or only real expression of literature is to be found in the memoir. So why is the underlying assumption by music one of a faux memoir style personal expression?
This was not always the case. In 1910, when opera ruled the roost, no one expected Enrico Caruso to be belting out his own personal life in song. Somehow this changed. As a little bit of background context for how this developed, let us spill a couple paragraphs of ink on Frank Sinatra. Not the first time I have done so on this blog, but the last time was a couple of years ago so bear with me. If you have a cursory knowledge of Frank Sinatra, you may be aware that his 1955 record In The Wee Small Hours is regarded as perhaps his finest creative construction.
Tangentially, if you log onto Spotify or other streaming services, In The Wee Small Hours shows up as one of his earlier projects. This isn't quite accurate. Streaming services not having full discographies is bad enough, but a side effect of the incomplete discography is that younger listeners don't get a clear understanding or access to the entire career arc of the artist. The unfortunate streaming paucity of his early career recordings gives an impression to the casual listener that Sinatra's 1950's work was his early work, but the reality is that Sinatra was a star for well over ten years before recording In The Wee Small Hours.
His early years were defined by being the youthful heartthrob of teenage "bobby-soxers". Think of a Hoboken born Morgan Wallen. Growing in popularity throughout the war years (he didn't serve because he was classified 4F ineligible for service due to a busted eardrum), he released his first project in 1946. It was a smash success.
This success carried him until approximately the turn of the decade. The youthful audience was growing up, and Sinatra was overwhelmed with personal issues. It seemed a normal decline phase was imminent. The story of Sinatra's dominating mid fifties period is not simply a star turn for the singer, it was a revitalized artist storming back in an unprecedented commercial comeback.
Between 1946 and 1954, Sinatra released 8 albums. Analyzing the contents shows certain truths about the consumer's taste and expectations. These albums were not personal reflections on Sinatra's psyche. They were audience fodder. The albums mostly contained variations in similar themes. For example, the 1949 release, Frankly Sentimental. Which, wouldn't you have guessed, was eight deeply sentimental tracks. Or the underperforming 1950 release, Sing And Dance With Frank Sinatra which was a fast paced change for the former balladeer. As the title suggests, it was chock full of upbeat jazzy numbers. No broader themes or communications with the audience. Like an actor, Sinatra had a role. The script was either to convey sentimental feelings for the audience to wash themselves in or for them to kick up their heels and hit the dance floor. Different albums featured Frank taking upon similar roles with mild variation. Romance on one and breakup on the other. Christmas cheer for one and exuberant danceability on the other.
However, In The Wee Small Hours operated very differently. Novel for the times, it was created ground up as an artistic reflection peering into the murky depths of Sinatra's personal and romantic life. The ups and downs of his failed marriage with Ava Gardner and the resulting depression were all put onto vinyl in an intense performance. Sinatra's voice coils and unfurls, bending smoothly throughout the rocky chasms of emotion, delicately demonstrating the internal world of the icon who nearly cracked from solace. Progressing the medium from a performance art into a reflective window into the personal, Sinatra created what is often viewed as the first commercial concept album.
Music was never the same. But importantly, after the introduction of this new medium, an instant shift didn't materialize. Certainly the progressive side of rock shifted towards personalized narratives and soul searching ballads. But the overall tenor of music was still decisively in the performance art camp.
The important takeaway from this not-so-brief historical context is that commercial recorded music existed for many decades before the modern personal authenticity driven paradigm of artistry came into being. Naturally, as befits a conservative medium, country music did not hop on board the new trends that began to emerge mid-century. Take a look at 1950s and 1960s country music. It is inarguable that the recording artists were tapping into a performance focused approach. Just look at the suits that these fellows were wearing. The Nudie Suit was a zoot suit inspired getup covered in embroidered patterns. It was loud and flashy. The utter opposite of the down home, rootsy, “authentic” mode of dress one would expect from an authentic true-to-self genre like country. It was utterly inauthentic performance art, and yet it was desired and expected.
In spite of what appears to modern audiences as inauthentic schlock, audiences lapped it up. Why? Well, tacking back to other forms of content, in film when an actor commits to the role and delivers their lines with conviction and sincerity, the audience feels it. The bedazzled country artists of yore performed their roles with a similar sense of sincerity. The results were tangible and connectible. Dolly Parton may not have ever held a 9 to 5 job in her life, but she sang about others who did have a 9 to 5 with conviction, sincerity, and relatability. Audiences connected to the tune of 3X Platinum even if they didn't feel it was autobiographical.
But as times continued, this style decreased in popularity. Currently, it seems this modality has been pushed nearly entirely to the side in favor of authentic and personal framed content.
Based on what has been described, it may appear to the reader as if history occurred as some binary split. This is not the case. When describing broad trends, notable counterexamples exist. Many of Don Williams’ biggest hits were deeply autobiographical (Good Ol’ Boys Like Me especially). And even nowadays, plenty of sincere and performance projection songs are around. Take Working Man by Randy Houser. A personal favorite and one that clearly cuts against the grain of the autobiographical authenticity style content.
One interesting wrinkle that emerges is when artist’s objectives struggle because of the confines of the current paradigm. An artist attempts to latch onto working class authenticity not by singing the audience's song, but instead digging deep into their own lives to mine for similar experiences. This often results in an enjoyably ineffective type of song we’ll call the Traveling Musician trope. This consists of frankly discussing the difficulties of being a traveling musician. Usually this doubles as a means of creating parity between the blue collar hard working audience and the similarly hustling artist. Hang Tight Honey by Lainey Wilson is a nice attempt at this trope, but it is impossible to avoid reality. She lives a life which is the dream of many people. The hard work required to be a professional singer is genuinely difficult, but it is utterly unlike being a plumber, no matter how much she wishes to portray it that way. The connection suffers because of the forced personal angle in the narrative. Contrast that with Houser in Working Man where he just ignores the idea of trying to create this comparison and just talks to the working man's realities. Debate can be had, but this author firmly feels the direct approach struck by Houser is both more efficient and efficacious.
Another notable weakness of the modern approach is found on modern albums. Shorter vintage albums tended not to suffer from this issue. The increasing length of streaming era projects demand to be stuffed full of content. How are we supposed to expect a young artist whose life was a mostly uneventful childhood, a little bit of college, then jumping straight into the music business to have much in his life that is both authentic and interesting?
The typical result are bloated albums that bang on the same handful of generic themes. Maybe there’s a couple unique twists to some of the presentations. Generally they surround the life experience of those twenty five year olds. For country artists, that means a little partying, a little love, a little breakup, and lots of alcohol. It ends up a dual morase of sameness. Then somehow we expect the artist to expand on this for a second or a third album. Lol.
Nearly all of Thomas Rhett’s music surrounds his relationship with his wife. The downside of blissful domesticity is that there isn’t much more to be said about it. We get it, he's been in love with her since high school, truly an iconic American love story. But we've heard it already. And unless he wants to try and get more imaginative and, heaven forbid, unrealistic and inauthentic, the material will suffer.
I will grant that when this autobiographical stuff works, it really works. There’s a reason artists find themselves compelled to divulge the deep and personal in their art. It is a natural instinct. Luke Combs' Fathers and Sons is a fantastic recent example of effective true-to-life content. Luke Combs has grown up in the decade he’s been kicking around the music scene. As devoted listeners, his audience has traveled alongside Combs as he’s transitioned from the immature happy-go-lucky everyman of his early albums to a more thoughtful and matured family man. Now Combs is thirty years old. He's a father. He's noticing that his parents are aging. The future is changing in front of his eyes and over thirteen songs these ideas are contemplated. Most of the songs are culled from his personal experiences or at the very least could be. It results in deeply relatable content. Combs is a family man through-and-through and the observations and expressions of emotion tap deep into his psyche. Listeners get sucked in, relating both to Combs’ stories as well as interpolating the content with their own memories and loved ones. It strikes the perfect balance between the personal and universal. Heck of a record.
I am not willing to go as far as stating that Fathers And Sons is the exception that proves the rule. The music industry pumps out so much music every day that it is exceptionally difficult to apply far ranging rulings on the state of things. However, it is a rare project.
If, for example, the music industry took its cues more from film or literature, more works of art akin to the Combs record would exist. In those fields, a great deal of different subgenres are acceptable. You can have fantasy, drama, comedy, memoir, romance, and a whole host of different styles. Perhaps if unencumbered by the limitations of the autobiographical perspective, romance songs could be even more romantic and more fantastical, which after all, is what you're trying to sell when you deliver a three minute montage of perfect romance. But instead, encumbered with the realities of being an upper-twenty-something-year-old in America, there's only so much you can envision. The results are limited. To the listener’s detriment.
In essence, performance art is a fine balance between performative projection and autobiographical reflection, and to be frank, the pendulum has swung too much towards the autobiographical.
A little post script for the independent music fan who has made it all the way to the end. Yes, this is a mainstream focused piece. As a cursory glance of the reviews in the blog will show, I listen to plenty of independent music. These problems do not exist to the same degree as they do in the mainstream. But they certainly still do.
Interestingly, independent artists that breakthrough often have this mainstream perspective. Zach Bryan’s viral success led to superstardom. All on the back of him turning a recording studio into a diary for his laundry lists of broken relationships and angsty reflection. Plenty of good music results, but it is fundamentally an artist centric approach, similar to the trends of the past fifty years. He does an exceptional job of it, similar to the best of the folk rockers in the sixties. The material does seem to have watered down recently. Some of that is due to the vast amounts of music he has released, but also it could be ameliorated with expanding his perspective behind the self. Hints of that have been brewing and after this current kerfuffle finishes, I am intrigued to see where he goes artistically.
Colter Wall is another independent upstart who has experienced large success. Obviously not at the level of Bryan. Interestingly, even though Wall has that old school performance angle to his music, the audience relation is not one of the old school style. Wall oozes modern authenticity. He sings cowboy songs and he actually is a cowboy. That is why he can get away with singing old covers and having modern audiences not look down their noses at him for not writing his own material in an act of true authenticity. Older acts were able to sing those exact songs and not have to spend six months a year working on a ranch to buy themselves eligibility to the subgenre. It is interesting to watch how these trends develop.
Thank you for reading. This felt like a good ol Today I Heard longform exploration. I've you've been around long enough, you've seen a few of these. If you are new, we'll check out the archives! Content here is split about down the middle between reviews and analysis. If you have any feedback, please reach out in the comment section or via email (today I heard blog at gmail dot com).
Until next time,
Joe
Another great one, Joe. Just terrific. You've got me thinking of perspective in lyrics, and how the 3rd person and to some extent the 2nd is underused in today's country. It's gotta be because of this authenticity thing. It traps you in the 1st person (and the 1st person is the most unreliable, and therefore inauthentic, narrator of all). You've also got me thinking about how this cult of authenticity is another exhibit in how country and rap are increasingly resembling each other--this overrated ideal of "the real" drives both of those genres. I'm here for whatever you write.