(Part 3/2) Reflecting on Reflections

I want to preface this third entry about art criticism by making a clear point of what my goal with these posts is. I want to focus on how criticism is often used poorly, and offer a different take on how we can critically analyse music (or any kind of art, or really just anything in general). Art criticism doesn't require a degree or special training. Anyone can speak his or her mind on how they perceive creative works. But I think there are good and bad ways (or perhaps useful and irrelevant ways) of talking about it, and I see and hear far too much of the latter. There are so many different ways we can talk about art, so why should we limit ourselves to such narrow views?

"Art and love are the same thing: it's the process of seeing yourself in things that are not you."
Chuck Klosterman, Killing Yourself to Live

This says as much about creating as it does about analysing. And so perhaps the reason we see poorly constructed criticisms and irrelevant commentary is because those providing it don't know who they are. If you don't know what you look like, you can't see your reflection. The more you know about yourself, the more you understand your likes and dislikes, the more you can embrace contradictions co-existing, the more self-aware you are, the better you will be able to offer analysis and commentary with depth and understanding.

I can understand how people can lose themselves in someone else's art. We do this all the time with varying degrees of attachment. Most people will have at least a song connected to some important moments in their lives (a song for falling in love, a song for a memorable summer, music for a rainy day, etc.). When we hear this music, it can feel as much a part of our lives as the actual experience it now represents. On deeper levels there are also those who are wholly dedicated to a band or musician, sewing the music directly into their lives. Music becomes a very personal thing, and sometimes we stop thinking we're a part of it and we start appropriating it. This becomes a problem for analysis when we stop hearing music as what it is, and can only see it through the filter we've imposed.

This is how we end up with people thinking they can influence artists with their personal agenda. In 2005, Nightwish fired vocalist Tarja Turunen, who also served as the frontwoman, was an original member and helped define the big sound that Holopainen aimed for. And people are still talking about it as if it's relevant. For some reason, eight years later, you can still find posts on YouTube, facebook and elsewhere where so-called fans have nothing else to say but "so sad Tarja is gone" or "this band sucks without Tarja" or even "will you do a reunion tour with her?" These people are missing the point entirely. She was fired for a reason (there was an open letter and it was very clear why she was fired and why they didn't want to work with her again). So what makes people think that by telling the band they miss the old singer that everything will be fixed? I can only imagine that those making these statements are either not artists themselves, or have never had to work with someone they don't get along with. Think about it this way: if you broke up with your significant other because you didn't get along with him or her, would you try to start the relationship again if all your friends said they missed him or her? Working with people in a creative situation is an odd cross between a working relationship and an intimate relationship.

And just as people come in go in our lives, so does music. Sometimes it seems hard to detach ourselves from period music--that is, music that represents or reflects a period in our lives that is maybe no longer relevant or identifiable. But as I've already talked about, it's hard to accept change, especially that we may have changed. We hear music from our youth and we feel young again, even though it may have been years since we last listened to it. It's a wonderful feeling to travel through time with music. But it is also ok to look at it, unbiased, and see times have changed. What's worth more is remembering where you came from and understanding how your tastes have changed and developed, than trying to cling to old memories, defending your former self.
My first real exposure to heavy metal was through Italian power metal band Rhapsody (now Rhapsody of Fire). It was a sound I'd never experienced before combining heavy guitar riffs, operatic vocals, orchestral backdrops, neo-classical licks, and a grand fantasy story. At the time it was the perfect amalgamation of my interests: it was like reading a Dragonlance book, while listening to a classical concerto with all the coolness of a rock and roll band. Once I'd set foot in that world I was only degrees away from Nightwish, Sonata Arctica and other European metal bands that would come to occupy my music collection. But as I listened to more and more metal I came to refine my taste, finding the common elements that linked the different bands I listened to and figuring out what parts of it actually appealed to me. Over the years I listened to Rhapsody less and less as I discovered I wasn't as interested in fantasy as I thought I was; I preferred the orchestral work done with Nightwish; I moved away from the bombast of power metal into the grungier aesthetic of gothic metal; I started preferring the speed and riff elements of thrash and death metal. Looking back I can see how it all got to where I am today; the progression was slow but now very obvious. At the time I almost felt bad when I realised I wasn't listening to as much Rhapsody, or when I started connecting more with Nightwish as my favourite band because I was still trying to hold on to this element that brought me into the world. I couldn't let go of my past. But I don't blame Rhapsody for any of this. I never fell into the trap of thinking the band had changed instead of me. They continued doing what they loved and what they felt was right for the band. When it stopped lining up with what I wanted I simply stepped away.

I admire most the artists who are honest with themselves. Now if we can only be honest. What of ourselves do we expect to see in their art? What do we expect of them? Are we being critical of their art or of ourselves? For years, American gamers have been extremely critical of the Final Fantasy video game series, particularly since the series' founder left and the original company merged with its competitor to form Square Enix (this happened 10 years ago, but they're still complaining). The Final Fantasy series has always been dedicated to progress and change--many games have pioneered elements that are now considered RPG standards. You can't do this by repeating yourself. I see in the complainants people unwilling to give up their pasts. They still remember Saturday mornings in front of a CRT TV with a flat grey controller in hands; top-down side-scrolling fantasy games with overworlds and chip-tune music. These aesthetics are now anachronistic, but they see the advancements as a departure, not as a progression. And who are these gamers that "stick with" a company they so dislike for 10 years? If you strictly want the 16-bit aesthetic, there are dozens of modern and classic games available on your phone, your computer, your home console and handheld. If you want a game that plays like a Western RPG, then don't go looking in Japan. It's ok that you once liked these games but no longer find them enjoyable. Art cannot please everyone, and it's truly a waste of your time to look in the wrong place for something you want. Don't go to a hamburger joint expecting them to make you a shepherd's pie.

If you are honest with yourself, you will find yourself in art, and you will find the art that best reflects you. And be prepared for change. The world moves ever onward.

Reviewing reviews (part 1: part 2, the sequel)

Before I move on to other aspects of art criticism (like fan entitlement and backwards relationships between popular and classical music), there are two more reviews I wanted to tackle in a similar vein as my previous post.

HIM occupies a curious space in the musical world. They've never really solidified a particular genre (beyond the self-imposed Love Metal style) and have variously been called gothic rock, gothic pop, gothic metal, alternative metal/rock and others, and have curiously become associated with Bam Margera, who is involved in a scene more likely to be linked to punk. HIM is also the first Finnish band to have a gold album in the United States, making them much more popular abroad than at home. Naturally when a band makes it this big they're bound to draw criticism for just about anything. When Screamworks: Love in Theory and Practice, Chapters 1-13 came out a few years ago everyone thought they'd "sold out" (an unfortunately overused term which can mean just about anything and is often used more now to denote music that is radio-friendly, or even just on this side of esoteric) because it had a very "pop" feel to it (see: In Venere Veritas), which was a big surprise seeing as the last album, Venus Doom was the "darkest" HIM album yet (see: Venus Doom). Again I think it's worth noting that this is a case where albums are treated as sequentially linked items, rather than separate entities. People often try to string albums together to show a progression towards "something." Sometimes it works, but the connections often tend to be artificial. It's easy to look back on a catalogue and map out how a band became more riff-oriented over their career or more progressive and then make something out of it. It may be an interesting project but it's rarely the case from the composer's perspective. Good music happens organically, not as a result of a composer with a five-year plan to make the band's music more popular with 18-25 year-olds.

And so here we delve back into the Ratings and Reviews section on iTunes for HIM's most recent release, Tears on Tape. (Once again the reviewer is neither credited or sourced). It does not start off well

There is a certain segment of rock & roll fandom that is adverse to change for any reason. Usually, it's an older generation that loves acts whose albums continue to sound the same. [...] In listening to their catalog, one or two things become self-evident: either they are happy to give their fans exactly what they desire over and over again, or they are incapable of change (or perhaps both, which is a win-win).

It's not a good sign when I'm just starting to analyse the review and I'm already seething. This type of review is so generic and bland it's beyond tired. The first two sentences are nothing more than filler (can you even start with filler?). All genres of music have musicians and fans that are adverse to change. It's something I talked about last time even--people in general are adverse to changes to anything: diet, location, friends, work, and so forth. There's a reason your grandparents listen to music from the 40s, and it's the same reason we're going to be listening to music from the 90s. It's music we grew up with and it makes us feel comfortable. It's us trying to feel like we're still relevant in a world that has moved on by listening to music of our youth.
It's also worth noting that there's a difference between a band that has a distinctive sound and a band that has no originality. One will release albums that sound similar because it's the same group of musicians playing music written by the same person; people have personalities and so do bands. Once we become adults and develop unique personalities we don't really change that much. Same thing goes for groups. A band with no originality will release albums that sound the same because they don't have the ability to move beyond their initial statement. Plus, as Valo himself put it, you have to focus on what you do best

...there's not a single person on Earth who can play Love Metal better than us. So I guess that that's our forte and we should concentrate on that

Getting back to the quotation, the reviewer is simply wrong in his assumption that HIM is incapable of change. While they are pretty firmly locked into the standard rock song form (2x verse, chorus, verse, chorus, solo/interlude, chorus), there's still a lot of wiggle room. Harmony, melody, instrumentation, time and key signatures, tempo, lyrics can all make two songs in the same form sound very, very different. As for the claim that "they are happy to give their fans exactly what they desire over and over again," that's also something I have a hard time believing. There's this weird assumption that bands are very interested in only writing music that appeals to their fans. Writing music that people like should not be confused with writing music for people that they will like. You always hope that people will like what you write, but you're not doing it to make them happy.

...even in his most sinister snarl, Valo is so wistful he sounds like a jilted schoolboy, and HIM are incapable of writing songs without proper hooks

Here is another laughable case of "missing the point." What does "incapable of writing songs without proper hooks" even mean? Maybe there are some people who go into the studio thinking "I have to write a really sweet hook for this song," but I believe artists with integrity just write good music and piece it together as they see fit. Does a song need a proper hook? Does it need a hook at all? Does anything in the song even need to be defined as a hook if it doesn't serve that purpose according to the composer?
Finally we round off the piece with:

How many records does one need like this? Here HIM seem to be banking a lot; and with more than 20 years and boatloads of albums and singles, who's going to argue?

To answer your first question: as many as I want. I get a totally different experience listening to Greatest Love Songs Vol. 666 than I do listening to Venus Doom and Screamworks. Writing about love and death isn't new, but that doesn't mean we can't--you know what, I'll just let Valo say it in his own words:

...love is very different with different people, so even if you're writing about separation or falling in love it's always different because you fall in love for different reasons [...] and that makes it interesting when it is a new combination for yourself

And to answer the second question: you, I guess? But I don't know who his review is targeted towards, so who is he arguing with anyway? And his claim that HIM has been around for more than 20 years is grossly exaggerated. They may have been jamming together since 1991, but they didn't release an album until 1997. And "boatloads" seems a tad hyperbolic for eight studio albums (with a standard number of singles per album), one live DVD and three remix compilations.

So, while HIM is being berated for its apparent inability to change, other bands are being slammed for changing too much. Because change is a bad thing when you don't want change, but change is a good thing when you don't want things to stay the same.
Theatre of Tragedy is another unique band in terms of genre--people apparently like labelling things and it's very convenient for these people when they don't have to change the labels or come up with new words. Theatre of Tragedy is very interesting because they are largely credited with creating the genre gothic metal, or at least spurring it forward and giving it the shape and sound that most people would call gothic metal today. Their first three albums are the definition of early gothic metal, so when they moved to electropop gothic rock (or something) for their next two albums, people were not happy. (For those interested, compare "Cassandra" from 1998 to "Crash/Concrete" from 2000). I wasn't around to witness the fallout, but from the bits and pieces I've gathered since then, it wasn't pretty.
In the liner notes to Theatre of Tragedy's live album Carl Begal (of BW&BK) shares some of his thoughts on the band's history as a "die-hard fan, part of a legion that has enjoyed one hell of a ride over the past 16 years." He says, in part

...from coming to grips with [Raymond]'s clean vocals on Aegis and beyond; finding worth in the band's Musique/Assembly era; accepting their decision to have Nell Sigland replace Liv Kristine

This doesn't sound like a "die-hard" fan with the utmost respect for his favourite band. How did this get printed in the band's farewell to the world? There's nothing wrong with being critical of what you enjoy, but his way of describing his experiences listening to the band sounds very detached and indeed separate from the rest of his write-up about what a stellar band they are. But phrases like "coming to grips" and "finding worth" and "accepting their decision" are not at all flattering or appreciative. It's like he can't appreciate Musique on the same level as Aegis because they're different. That's creating a problem where there isn't one. Again it's outsiders imagining these unnatural separations: contiguous blocks of CD releases instead of continuous evolution of music. I think it's beautiful when you have a situation like this where two instances are incomparable and yet they're amazing works of art in their own rights. Just as we can love a parent and a sibling and a friend in different ways for who they are, we can love contrasting art for what it is.
He also finishes with another cliché that comes up again and again in art criticism. Speaking of the band's final album, Forever is the World he says, "the band that launched an entire metal genre had returned to form." The mysterious "return to form." What exactly is it? It seems to be this imaginary construct of those longing for "the good ol' days," that other tired expression. To me, calling something a "return to form" suggests that the artist has deviated from his path in a negative or deconstructive way. It calls to mind images of a lost soul who has let his worldly troubles affect his art, only to clean up his life and release a magnificent work of art that shocks and pleases the masses. Unfortunately, people usually use it to mean "this sounds a lot more like their first album, which I really liked." More on that next time.

Reviewing reviews (part 1)

"Art criticism is weird." So said my brother Alan (of Robert Flood Octet fame) recently. He's right, and I've found album reviews to be one of the stranger sides of it (even though I'm guilty of having written a few myself from time to time). It's not the criticism itself I find weird. There's nothing wrong with being critical of art, even good art. Thinking critically, analysing, breaking things down piece by piece, getting down into the fine details of what makes a piece of art good and bad and everything in between. This is all acceptable, and you don't need to be an artist to be critical of art.

However, the problem with reviews is that they tend to miss the point entirely, overuse cliché terminology ("soaring melodies," "soulful tunes," "crooner") and/or go on at length without really saying anything. One particular review has stood out in my mind for a long time. In 2007 Sonata Arctica released their fifth album, Unia. It was unlike anything they'd done before and marked a turning point in their career, as they shifted away from speedy, melodic power metal towards prog metal for the next two CDs. The review for the album on iTunes (no name or source is given) is a mess.

...it found the group experimenting with novel songwriting techniques, and diverting from the straight-and-narrow of their career path for the first time. Problem was, these new elements mostly served to subvert the group's extremely competent and popular power metal formula with unprecedented doses of commercialism...

My first problem with this excerpt is that the author assumes that the "novel songwriting techniques" serve to "subvert" their sound and image as a band (or something). That because they're so good at doing power metal, doing something different is--in his words--a "problem." This comes up a lot in album reviews. When bands start trying something different there is an outcry from reviewers and fans. But it's never an issue of whether or not the New Thing is Bad. It's just Different. And somehow Different has become Bad. That's what the reviewer said--by doing something new, Sonata Arctica had created a problem.
Now, my second issue with this review is his ludicrous claim that Unia is somehow a "commercial" album. This is another thing that pops up a lot in analyses of popular music. Heck, this guy called post-2004 Children of Bodom commercial. Have I been using the word wrong all along? I'm not sure if they mean

a : viewed with regard to profit b : designed for a large market

or

b (1) : being of an average or inferior quality (2) : producing artistic work of low standards for quick market success

when they talk about commercial music in this situation. Don't confuse artists making money with selling out! And it's hard to be a huge commercial success working in metal, which is still very much a niche market. Children of Bodom is only the 35th best-selling band in Finland (including international artists), having sold roughly 240k albums (that's eight regular CDs, one live CD, one live DVD/CD, one best-of compilation, one compilation of covers and a dozen or so singles). Sonata Arctica is even further down the list at 48, with fewer than 200k sold. I'd hardly call those commercial.
And I would say Unia is far from being the pop-oriented album the reviewer seems to think it is. I offer for your consideration "The Vice", which I think is a fairly good representation of the album.

And finally the reviewer finishes with:

...first time arrivals will still want to pick up one of Sonata Arctica's earlier releases if they want a proper introduction to their prevalent power metal template.

Now this is a curious quotation. It seems to suggest that to properly enjoy this album one must be familiar with the band's back catalogue, as if the albums are sequential. On the one hand I think it's worth saying that to get a deep understanding of Unia one should experience Sonata Arctica to see the progression from Ecliptica up to this point. But there is a difference between hearing a progression and hearing a sequence. A band's history is more than a list of its CD releases, just as a person is more than her list of accomplishments on her resume. But what I think the reviewer is trying to say--and I assume this because this is so often the case--is that "this CD is ok but man did you miss out on their first CDs, they used to be so good." And this only serves to perpetuate this idea that artists should not deviate with what fans are used to and that change is Bad and not up for debate.

"Art criticism is weird."