No Assembly Required

by Scott Hefflon

I keep thinking I don’t hate major labels. It just seems like a knee-jerk reaction to hate something ’cause it’s big. It’s not alternative or punk or indie to hate major labels just ’cause they’re major labels, it’s just plain stupid. But then I make the mistake of listening to all the major label CDs and I realize I hate them for a very different reason.

I always feel guilty when separating major label releases into a special bin (no, not the trash bin – that comes later), regardless of genre. I mean, segregation is one thing, but judging a band (or, at least, the latest release of the band) based solely on the fact that they’re on a label with more cash than I’ll ever see in my lifetime seems unfair to the band. (Note of perspective: While it may sound like pigeon-holing or judging a book by its cover, I find it helpful [to the point of necessary] to sort CDs by genre, thus establishing some vague frame of reference when previewing dozens, often hundreds, of CDs in a matter of days. Each CD can, in theory, be previewed on its own merit, yet within the perspective of the genre as a whole. To create an analogy, any other method would be similar to bar-hopping from a beer dive to a wedding reception to a backwoods VFW hall to an art opening to a sporting arena to a posh restaurant to a strip joint. Like getting rip-roaring drunk with your friends and then your mom shows up to drop off some brownies she baked. Like having your landlord arrive to show your apartment when you’re banging your girlfriend/boyfriend [or both] on the kitchen table, with your fridge emptied on the floor for that whole 9 1/2 Weeks effect. You get what I’m saying.)

But major labels seem to fuck things up so much that, despite all my good intentions, I end up hating them anyway. They either: 1) flail about in areas in which they obviously have little to no expertise (obvious when you see some second or third-rate band getting the mega-push and realizing that those without the perspective might actually think this is good, when off the top of your meticulously-catalogued head you could name five bands that whup these chumps off the planet); 2) pump out yet another ignorable record by yet another band that, at one time, had something interesting to say (and/or play) but has since either: a) said all they ever had to say and are now merely repeating themselves, b) gotten so used to merely being themselves (and being consistently rewarded for such) that they don’t see the need to grow, c) are, for a variety of reasons, “encouraged” not to grow due to contractual obligations and the threat of losing what they already have, d) other (many of which don’t support my argument so therefore I will dismiss them); or 3) fuck up a perfectly good band (or at least a perfectly good release by a perfectly good band) by slathering their ineptitude all over it for the sake of increased marketability. And the last is the worst. It’s painful to hear what is probably a darn good band’s effort ruined by the over-production, over-saturation, over-packaging, over-hyping of major labels that, for some reason, are allowed to get away with it. Again, there is the understanding that somewhere, someone who doesn’t know any better is probably saying to themselves, “Gosh, this is really good,” when all it is is trimmed and packaged in such as way as to sucker the suckerable into saying such things. (Perhaps the problem is with the rather sheltered wanna-be-hipsters who soak in everything the media belches out as if it were reality, when all it really is is the financial pressure of getting shut off by the mega-money that keeps the machine well-oiled. Even to the point where “what is newsworthy” in a newspaper is a very deliberate decision, kids, so your only hope of getting any honest information is to find a like-minded media source [one that, while biased, is at least biased your way] and hope that the compromises made are few, small, and almost justifiable. But the argument that it’s the uneducated consumer’s fault and the major labels are merely doing what they’re supposed to do [which, of course, is beg, steal, guilt-trip, connive, and manipulate the hapless into buying what they’re selling] is somewhat misanthropic, and there’s no money in that.)

Sure, they’re getting the word out on a band to the masses that otherwise would miss out on them, but it’s the tasteless force-feeding, glorifying a glossified hand-me-down that simply offends me. It’s taking the dangerous rawness out of punk, yet having the nerve to call it punk. It’s taking the eloquent rage out of heavy music, yet amping the thundering wall of sound so over-the-top in hopes that come-latelies won’t notice. It’s generalizing the diary-esque intimacy of a singer/songwriter and trying to convince us these songs have anything to do with our lives. It’s boasting the experimentalism of an artist, then processing it for common consumption or, worse yet, claiming that if you don’t like an artist’s vision you’re just ignorant and don’t understand it. It’s taking the thoughtful space out of ambient. It’s taking the sweaty sex out of hard dance music. In general, it’s taking away the human passion that makes the music go somewhere in the first place, and replacing it with a fluffy, over-simplified, empty listening experience. Music that no matter how loud you crank it, no matter how drunk or stoned you are when listening to it, fails to engage you in any tangible way. And without that, it’s merely inoffensive sound in the background of some respectable business office, meant to fill the silence, creating a shared reality of ignoring something not quite specific enough to loathe or express any opinion about, yet not generating imagery or thought of any kind in the listener’s mind. Perhaps people like not thinking and enjoy being buffeted with the feel-good sounds of contemporary music, but that, to me, defeats the purpose of art, of expression, and of bothering to inhale yet another breath. It lacks soul, it lacks passion, and it lacks purpose other than to distract. And I can’t live like that.