Scott BresslerOur “In defense of…” series
We here at Cadenza acknowledge that we do our fair share of hating. We are unafraid to call a spade a spade, but we realize that that blade has two edges. Sure, we mock those who find enjoyment in Nickelback or Michael Bay movies, but some of us on staff have some fairly embarrassing songs on our iPods, some movies in our collection that we pretend were gifts. But why the guilt? If it gives you pleasure, wear it on your sleeve. If you can’t successfully defend your reasons for liking a piece of pop culture, then maybe you should reconsider whether or not you actually like it. In our new feature “In defense of.” Cadenza sets out to destroy the concept of the guilty pleasure. Our writers will air their now guiltless pleasures weekly for all to see and attempt to defend them in the public forum. In an attempt to engender a sense of artistic freedom across campus we encourage you to go to www.studlife.com and join in the discussion on our message boards. Deride those who have derided others so often. Let us know that we’re a bunch of sniveling hacks not worthy of the moniker “clown shoes.” To kick things off some of Cadenza’s finest defend a few rotten oysters they feel may contain a pearl.
Sellout. It’s a label that’s been slapped on thousands of artists who seemingly abandon their integrity and principles in hopes of getting a taste of the almighty dollar. The Black Eyed Peas got it when they added Fergie and dropped their creative edge. Bob Dylan got it twice: once from the folkies when he went electric and once when he started showing up in Victoria’s Secret ads. Dave Chappelle walked away from his hit TV show and a $55 million contract just to avoid the sellout stamp.
But why? Why must selling out be such a stigma? “Sellout” shouldn’t be a pejorative but a badge of honor letting the world know that people thought what you did was cool or hip or smart enough to be bought up by a corporation, watered down and packaged for easy distribution and consumption. Most of us don’t live on the frontier of pop culture. We need iPod commercials to let us know which band we are going to love now and resent in six months. With the Internet allowing us instant access to a vast history of art and music and film and comedy, we don’t have to know what is cutting edge as long as we know which sellouts used to be really good.
The entertainment world moves so fast now that by the time anyone has garnered a modicum of fame and had their first opportunity to start sucking at the teat of capitalism, the people who tell us what to like have moved on to the next big thing. Selling out tells average folk what to buy so that they can get in on the new trends without having to do anything gross like research or reading.
On top of all this, I argue that the corporate machine, the very one that pays people off for marginalizing their vision, actually improves art to a point. Sure a Limp Bizkit or two are bound to slip through the cracks, but most of the time, dangling money out there pushes artists to create their best work. As much as it will pain most people to hear this, pure, uncut artistic vision is usually pretty lame. The best stuff comes when there is pressure on the artist from the left and right side of their brains. Sure, every band wants the public to experience the power of their eight-part rock opera concerning the assassination of William McKinley told through the eyes of a young Buster Keaton, but they also want free booze and a shot at some groupies. So they write a radio-friendly pop song about our 25th president that turns out to be artistic and listenable. Which two albums resulted from Dylan’s “sellout” to that dastardly electric guitar? “Highway 61 Revisited” and “Blonde on Blonde.”
Then there’s the argument that art is degraded once it appears in a commercial setting. People flipped when they heard Led Zeppelin’s “Rock and Roll” used in a Cadillac commercial. But why is that so bothersome? Sure, it turns a song that used to have a ton of rebellious power into an impotent corporate shill, but it also provides a framework for less talented artists to do the same. It’s distasteful for Zeppelin or Paul McCartney to sully their once-great image in the name of commerce, but selling out is all Lou Bega ever had. He knows he will never have another “Mambo #5.” He came to terms with that a long time ago. But without a culture that encourages popular artists to sell out, Bega never could have capitalized on the unlikely success of his song. Car commercials were his ultimate artistic achievement.
Many people work their entire lives to get a product universally inoffensive enough that they can exploit the hell out of it. Selling out isn’t just OK; it’s the American dream. Anyone who says different is trying to sell you something.