There’s a big idea that I wanted to bring up, but didn’t in yesterday’s review of The ArchAndroid; the idea of complexity in pop music. I’m not one to believe in musical “progress” per se, but the artist that I respect and value most are those that experimented and tried to create a new sound of music for their time.
One of the things that I find fascinating, especially now that I am in college, is the way that classical academics and composers relate to pop music. I get quite a range of views among my professors: my choral director and history professor grew up listening to classical music, and thus has never had any personal exploration of pop music (I actually think that her’s is the last generation that can get away with that). My organ professor lectures me about not using the terms “pop” and “classical.” I always nod politely, responding in my head that if you don’t see “pop” as a derogatory term, there’s no stigma associated with using it. My academic adviser listens much like I do; applying the same kind of thinking and reflection to music regardless of the tradition. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that he is the youngest professor on the faculty.
Classical academics occasionally become “pop music tipsy;” they get exposed to an amazing piece of pop music, and become confused about how to respond to it. What they write, or how they talk about the music, is characterized by a few symptoms: they vastly overstate the importance of the artist under discussion; they don’t understand and disrespect the tradition that came before “their” artist; hyperbole about the death of other traditions; solemn predictions that this is the way pop music will be in the future. They’re almost always wrong.
The worst part is that they’re kind of right, too. These mushy declarations come from a profound cognitive dissonance. Many of these writers and composers have been trained and taught that pop music is empty and unsophisticated. When confronted with pop music that is sophisticated, is experimental, is vital, their reaction is to claim that pop music has changed. What they should understand is that they have changed.
What does this have to do with Janelle Monáe? When the “Bad Romance” video first hit, Alex Ross of The New Yorker wrote a little thing about the cell ringtone that opens the video. It’s a quotation from a Bach fugue that uses all 12 tones in the Western octave. He grew very excited about this and used it to speculate about the future of pop music, a more chromatic future.
I think the ArchAndroid makes a good case for that future. The album sounds strongly influenced by Stevie Wonder, and his music has always been more harmonically complex (probably as a function of jazz) than others in his style. I don’t think that chromaticism is a virtue in itself, but I’m certain that you’re more likely to find it in the music of Janelle Monáe than Lady GaGa.