If you type the string “relationship rock” into Google the first thing that pops up is a 6 min Youtube clip of Chris Rock obnoxiously ranting about his views on male and female relationships, followed by an array of search results ranging from self-help intimacy advice to blogs risibly illustrating the parallels between comic books store and independent record shops (don’t ask).
Although, if you refine the string and enter the term “relationship rock” followed by “Daughtry” (no need for capitalizing or using quotation marks) you will discover what it is that inspired this article.
While doing some research on the band, I bumped into an article written by an Ann Powers for the Washington Post that caused my brain, not only to throb, but ruffle that little excess piece of skin just above the bridge of my glasses. All I could muster was a “huh?” reminiscent of a 4th century Hun. The sentence read: “But what's important about Daughtry's relationship rock is that it is rock, macho and cathartic.” Forget for a second here that she used the word “macho” to describe this record, because that would be easier to ridicule than me in a pair of Speedos. But let us focus our attention here to the noun. When did we start using the term “relationship rock” in a serious manner? No, seriously. I jumped back a paragraph and re-read searching for an air of sarcasm in her article: to no avail.
When did rock and roll’s all-night binging, risqué sounding, drug induced coping, androgynous looking, alcoholic swigging, cigarette sucking, sex ridden debauchery turn into soccer mom appreciated, wedding song ballad validated, milk and cooking eating, PTA mom approved relationship rock? Did I miss the memo? At what point did this term relationship music become acceptable for musicians outside the realm of Michael Bolton and Julio Iglesias?
It is evident at times that I can come off more shallow than a wading pool, but I would cringe at the idea of releasing a record, then reading a review where someone coins my band with a term that could quite as easily be synonymous with a White Snake or Chicago.
Sentimental music has always existed, will always exist and will forever have a strange manner of finding its way into our CD collections. I surely have got some Sherriff “When I’m With You” somewhere on my hard drive, but merely to kick start one of those ironic house party moments when everyone needs to find a partner and nostalgically slow dance no less than half a meter apart.
Music is an art form and thus should not discriminate against its listeners. Agreed. People grow older, tastes and environments change, so clearly the music they associate with alters as well–that is a completely rational ideology. But the other argument is bands like the Rolling Stones and AC/DC, whom have damn near reached grandfather age, both released albums within the last 5 years, but failed to write songs about hearing aids and Viagra. Even modern bands like Nickelback–who coincidentally co-wrote on the Daughtry album and cater to the same demographic–still fall in line to sell rock’s lewd ideology with songs entitled “Rockstar” and sleazy lyrics like, “I like your pants around your feet”.
The lion’s share of music today is technically intolerable, therefore, the only thing we have left is the promise that, if just aesthetically, rock will provide us with a tantalizingly secular alternative universe so dissonant from our contemporary lives that we can live vicariously through the rock stars themselves; a world with such obscenity that it grants us fantasies beyond our wildest dreams. It is elusive and should make us salivate, make us yearn to be in league with the world’s most impure; and some how the term “Relationship Rock” just doesn’t conjure that for me.
Sway
Toronto, July 2009