originally published in Mars' Hill Volume 13 Issue 7 Arts & Culture
History seems to be a series of revolutions and counter-revolutions; the ship of vibrant human culture rocking back and forth from one extreme to the next. Running around on deck: the artists, the writers and the activists. Mid-ship, in its cabin, lies the mainstream, comfy-cozy in its bunk, slightly moved by the to and fro but never completely confronted as it greedily assimilates bits and pieces of comparatively radical art and thought to construct the glamorous eclectic.
The age-old question of the chicken and the egg can be put into different terms: does art reflect culture, or does culture follow art? Through careful exegesis, many Trinity Western University scholars argue that the chicken did indeed come first, but to the enlightened radical, the answer is simply “yes.”
In music, in the West, originality is fundamental, and that requires a measure of independence. As the 20th century progressed and music labels began to exert more and more power over the lyrical and musical content of their signed bands, serious musicians began to realize what was happening: art and commerce were a deceptively attractive alliance with crippling ramifications for artistic liberty. Some bands like Radiohead and Weezer got on the popularity wagon before it began to steamroll creativity and bold speech, and these bands began to sabotage it from the inside with facetious satire (do you hear the sarcasm in Weezer’s “Pork and Beans”?)
The prevalence of commerce in today’s art creates a plethora of mediocrity. Bob Dylan is emulated but not surpassed. Why? Not because musicians lack creativity or boldness but because these qualities are stifled by an industry that applies formulas and parameters to art – the very thing that is able to critique the formulaic and the systematic. Tupac is subsumed by Timbaland and Soulja Boy who speak about the things he once lambasted. Artists leave the mainstream in search of independence. Successful ones like Dave Matthews start their own label. Indie is born, but not under that title or any title. Just as we give names like “Eskimo” or “Indian” to people who do not call themselves that, the title “indie” likely arrived once the executives (“the suits”) found out that the richest, most integral art was being produced in the underground, and that this brilliant art could be capitalized upon. The fact that being 'indie' was hip was because it was a political statement. What you call yourself isn't just about what you are, it's about what you're not.
But independence is again assimilated, and we’re back at square one.
'Indie' is not a particular sound, unless it is a liberty bell sounding out artistic freedom. The modern music business with its overabundance of half-baked artists relying on advertising and auto-tune to keep them in the public eye saturates people in a haze of messages and hinders them from distinguishing more profound content. The mainstream, as it currently functions, will not allow another Bob Dylan or another Tupac – certainly not a person who embodies a message like they did. As a musician seeking inspiration, my experience advises you to look elsewhere.
(Fun fact: Portland, Oregon, is known as the indie capitol of the world. The Pacific Northwest seems to encourage artistic vibrancy outside of conventions.)
