Specificity Blues
Why flailing about seeking to figure out what the defining song of an era is a failing endeavor.
I didn’t realize this, but it has been some time since a proper Today I Heard think piece was posted. Obviously the review series has taken up time that would’ve otherwise been dedicated towards crafting analysis type content. I enjoy the addition of the review series. The diversity keeps my perspective fresh (I hope). However, it is undeniable that it can be a distraction from the blog’s bread and butter. As mentioned in this post, balance as an ideal is delicate and difficult to achieve. Finding a middle ground between coverage and analysis is the core struggle for the blog. I’ve liked how this year’s iteration of the blog has been, but I would love to hear from readers.
Thanks,
Joe
“Funny how a melody/ Sounds like a memory”
That isn’t just a well delivered lyric from Eric Church. The scientific literature is chock full of studies clarifying the relationship memory has with the senses. Both smell and sound bring back memories and feelings long thought to be forgotten.
Less academically and more relatably, music can be used as an associative tool. If you miss the old days of yore, turning on music from that time can bring out memories and feelings that, although obviously not a replication, will provide a satisfactory sensory experience. A reveling in the emotions of times past.
When young, experiences have a freshness and novelty that can never be replicated. As we progress in life, our bank of experiences grows, and our taste shifts. The odds are we now have a more nuanced approach to connection and taste, but no matter what, we will never recapture that distinctive and particular sense of newness that imprints into the unformed neural pathways of youth. Reaching back to the highlights that soundtracked those young experiences is a way of reconnecting to that feeling. This is why we often have a strong connection to the music of our youth.
Because this truism is so self evident, a common theme for a music critic is to try and define that special song within the moment. For example, during the pandemic, there was a tremendous amount of ink spilled on informing audiences what the song or album of the pandemic should be. Various suggestions were thrown around, some better than others. However, something struck me as absurd about this whole conversation.
Very plainly, if one thinks about the stereotypical middle aged person listening to the music of their high school days in attempts to re-create that feeling of youthful abandon, we don’t find that everyone shares the same song.
Pushing this critique to its max suggests that even attempting to define the "Song Of The...." for the masses is a paradox to the musical experience.
What makes music so magical is its individuality. An artist puts out a record. The core of a record is an attempt at concretizing a portrayal of various forms of emotion. The listener takes his/her thoughts, life experiences, desires etc, and connects them to the recorded snapshot. This may sound obvious, but whether a song will connect to a listener is nearly entirely dependent on the listener's added contexts and interpretation. The number one song on the charts that was burned into a young teenage brain by the radio could be the song that connects, but it is equally likely that the special song is something obscure that happened to be playing when an important teenage moment occurred. There isn’t a formula for that.
Personally, I did end up with a song of the pandemic. By no means would I expect the readership to share the same song as a pandemic era standard. To my brain, it is so closely tied to the craziness of the times that to this day, I rarely go back to the song. Sometimes a melody sounds like a memory, but not in a good way. (This form of musical connection is remarked upon significantly less.)
The song-that-I-don't-return-to is Welcome To Hard times by the indefatigable Charlie Crockett. With that title and pedigree of the artist, you can fairly assume the song is a depressing and melancholy reflection on the difficulties of life, delivered with Crockett’s trademark quaint-bordering-on-pastiche vocal work. Perfect for pandemic times. Dusty acoustics and hollow percussion provide the finishing touches for that authentic vintage feel. Listening to that song brings me back to precisely where I was when I heard it for the first time. Considering the song was released on May 26th, 2020, that is a pretty gloomy place. An unsurprising choice for the pandemic pick.
But what I find interesting is the relationships I have with other songs that also strongly recall pandemic era memories, but have now discarded the negative associations. Unlike Welcome To Hard Times, these are perfectly playable in 2024. For example Luke Combs’ (a bit too much on the nose) Six Feet Apart. Of all the songs featured in this post, this was engineered to be a Covid defining song. As a fan of both Luke Combs and Bluegrass, this really should have been it. And yet, no dreary pandemic associations arise turning this on. Admittedly, it is an oddly themed song for 2024, but if it turns on in a playlist, there’s no bother in my brain. It's just a song.
A third contender would be the song Gabrielle by Brett Eldredge. The murky "pandemic vibes" are all present here. Forlorn piano, gentle and melancholy guitars, a song devoted to desperate reflection upon the impact of past loss in the here and now. The vibes are immaculate.
Even though the emotion of this song does not journey beyond the romantic plot portrayed, the themes fit the environmental atmosphere of the pandemic. Everyone had things they wanted to do. Even things they enjoyed in the past were now impossible. A desperate yearning for what once was, and a hope for what could be was a defining emotion of the period. The romantic setting of Gabrielle aside, the overall perspective presented by Eldredge synced with that emotional wavelength.
During that period, I listened to Eldredge mournfully croon about lost love an untold number of times. The song and the time period were linked. And yet, four years later, in spite of the song occasionally bringing out memories of when I first listened to it, I don’t have any broad negative associations that hamper my enjoyment.
Is there a specific reason why one song stuck and the others didn't? Honestly, probably not. Perhaps some speculation could be had about the themes or tone of the songs. But realistically the answer is simple and arbitrary. Welcome To Hard Times did. The others didn't.
The inherent arbitrariness in which sort of music latches onto memories and moments provides an explanation for why the "song that tries to reflect on other songs as nostalgia bait" usually flops. Two examples that come to mind are Kenny Chesney’s I Go Back, and Blake Shelton’s Every Time I Hear That Song. They both struggle. Go Back struggles simply because not everyone has the same relationship with music as Kenny does. Chesney is an admirable enough performer that the song certainly is decent. It is catchy and one of his bigger hits, but to these ears, that success is in spite of the fact that it doesn’t emotionally stick the premise. The idea of the song is built on three songs that have burrowed their way into Chesney's psyche. John Mellencamp’s Jack and Diane, Steve Miller's Rock'n Me, and Billy Joel's The Good Die Young. (Incidentally, notice how no country songs are referenced here. That should tell you something.) All these are bona fide classics, but just because the songs are linked to Chesney's formative experiences does not mean those songs have done so for the audience.
Even the attempt to broaden the sketch of the song in a bridge feels pat. The entire conceit of the song is wrapped around specificity. Only a brief interlude tries to thread the needle by acknowledging the ambiguity and diversity of the audience's taste.
"We all have a song that somehow stamped our lives/ Takes us to another place and time". Only then to go right back to discussing a specific song that Chesney relates to deeply. You can't have it both ways if you only give lip service to one of them.
Shelton has a different, but related issue. The song is too darn vague. The song boils down to three bland platitudes.
People connect to music.
In the development of a romantic relationship, formative and strong emotional moments are created.
A song from that formative time is capable of summoning up the emotion of the time.
Truly deep stuff.
Shelton refuses to pinpoint anything in the song. Granted, pointing out specific songs would lead to the issues Chesney ran into. But by veering far away from any specificity whatsoever, no picture is drawn. There is nothing distinctive about Shelton's recollection. It's a Hallmark movie. Puff pastry, not sourdough.
And now it is clear why this theme struggles to translate to song. A catch-22 is inevitable. Either the references are overly specific, leading to an audience disconnect. Or the artist tries to encompass the experiences of the entirety of the audience. That leads to vague washed out proclamations that struggle to connect.
Perhaps a middle ground would be to reflect on something that has some specifics, but not to the point that it narrows things down to one specific song. It seems simple, but balance as a rule is delicate and seldom achieved.
Steve Moakler (a lesser known country singer and songwriter) put out a song in 2018 entitled Chesney. It brilliantly connects to the ethos of Chesney's discography through the lens of a nostalgic reflection on a long faded summer romance. Notably, it focuses on the general nostalgic connection to Kenny's music instead of a specific song.
Conceptually, the song aims to link a summer fling to the unnamed Kenny Chesney CD that the girl gifted him. As the song progresses and the lines between Chesney's music and the romance are blurred, Chesney's name is repeatedly used as a mantra style reminder of what once was.
An effective songwriting mechanism, bolstered by warm and atmospheric textures that conjure up images of hazy summer evenings. Regarding the aims of this post, by focusing on Kenny Chesney’s discography as a whole and not overly emphasizing one particular song, it manages to thread a middle ground and avoid the catch-22. It is likely that fans of Steve Moakler‘s music also enjoy Kenny Chesney’s music. Any fan will have a particular song that connects, even if it isn’t the one that connects to Steve Moakler. Broadening the scope, but carefully clarifying the borders leads to a relatable and defined root. That is something a listener can sink their teeth into.
After all, it really is not up to the critic or the artist to create the connection. It is up to us. We just need decent enough material as a base to build our connections.
Thanks for reading! If you have any feedback, please leave a comment or reach out to today I heard blog at gmail dot com. What are some songs in your head that are woven together with memories?
- Joe