New York Times music critic Kelefa Sanneh writes:
Lots of the folks in “Before the Music Dies†might think the hugely popular Canadian neogrunge band Nickelback is a sign of all that’s wrong with the world. But when the most recent Nickelback album hit 3.7 million copies sold in America, Mr. Lefsetz could scarcely contain his glee, writing: “Could it be that Nickelback is now the leader because they’re the only one with any values? And the rest of the acts are sold-out whores purveying music that has the fading taste and longevity of bubble gum?†Hmm. Don’t answer that question. Or rather, don’t try to answer it without addressing the simple but slippery issue of taste. We can argue all day about bubble gum and CD sales and microformatted radio and major-label artist development. But none of that makes much sense unless we’re also willing to discuss what music we like, and why. (For the record Nickelback’s current hit, “Far Away,†is a first-rate power ballad.)
Taste. Since Robert Christgau was fired by Village Voice management “for taste” earlier this year, it’s something that’s cropped up quietly here and there among critics both wary and weary of engaging in another frivolous debate over rockism. Yet unlike that debate, it’s not a meme coursing through the internet like dysentery. Instead, there’s a measured, yet passionate discourse enfolding both taste and commerce. Furthermore, it’s not limited to a cloistered circle of critics whose aim is to impress one another with pseudo-intellectual jargon, but rather to engage the public at-large on the question of their curiosity, at least when it comes to music, and how it manifests itself in the marketplace.
In some cases, like the one mentioned in Mr. Sanneh’s article, it’s a lede buried deep in the text In others, it’s more openly discussed, such as this Coolfer piece that addresses hiphop sales over the past year. Coolfer writes:
For proof of the genre’s current lack of staying power, one can look at the length of time a hip hop album stays in the Top 40. In 2006, there are no long-lasting hits at the top of the chart. Each album is a flavor of the less-than-a-month. How many hip hop albums are in the Top 40? Five. How many have been there for more than three weeks? One (Ludacris). A hip hop album makes a big splash in its first week, drops around 60% in the second week, and fades out of the mainstream’s attention.
In this case, taste affects not only the genre, but the media itself; it’s not just what we’re listening to, but how we’re listening to it, when and for how long.
Mixed into the much talked about demise of physical media is a commentary on how more ephemeral forms of media give rise to more ephemeral uses of it. Like other aspects of American consumer culture, planned obsolescence is sacrosanct. To me, this is value neutral, not a value judgment. Anyone looking for durable artists/art is mistaken — and it’s not as simple as nothing gold can stay. [More on this later.]
Since the specter of rockism starting haunting a new generation of critics, two things have happened: viewed positively, there’s been an effort to better understand cultural products on their own terms, rather than resorting to some variation of the high/low culture debate and dismiss albums or artists out of hand. Given the ceaseless tide of new releases, the effort to sift through is no mean feat, and it emphasizes the point that the better part of criticism is left to an editor’s agnosticism or curiosity. Conversely, the rapacious hunger with which culture is consumed has led to a sort of cultural amnesia about taste itself.
A corollary to this point is that there’s such a taboo about getting it wrong that it leads to either bad judgment [see Matos’ one-liner here], or an unwillingness to condemn anything at all. But character assassination shouldn’t be confused for criticism. To me, it’s just as unfair to dismiss ephemera as frivolous as it is to wantonly lead the sacred herd into the abattoir.