Earth Crises of Faith: Starbucks on Queen Street!

I usually start my blog posts with assertive, controversial statements. And today's post will be no different. Save for the modifier 'usually,' I'd argue that the opening sentence of this posting was very assertive. Alright, alright – I'll try again.

I catch a lot of flak for openly proclaiming that the best rock n' roll song of the last decade was (and is) Lifehouse's Hanging by a Moment. Most disaffected music fans tend to assume that I'm trying to be overly controversial. Those who mistakenly allot me with intellectual credibility seem to assume that I'm running some sort of a social experiment, or that there is a punch-line to follow. And some believe that the statement is meant to be pure kitsch. But it's not. I am dead serious.

Like most critical interpretations of music, I'm not able to properly articulate exactly why I feel this way. I do know, however, that I prefer the Hanging by a Moment's opening bass riff to anything Kim Gordon has ever written. I know that the perfectly-executed, uber-dramatic pause prior the final chorus (where the song settles, deceiving the listener into believing that the song is over, then wham! The chorus is back tenfold, but the short pause has allowed the drummer to regain his breath, and he is now banging his kit with newfound conviction. It gets me every time. But I digress) sends shivers down my spine. And while authenticity is always difficult to define, there is no doubt that frontman Jason Wade is falling even more in love with, if not you, then someone.

A quick browse of Lifehouse's Wikipedia entry reveals that they initially formed as a Christian rock group. For many, this is the kiss of death: rock n' roll, as Iron Maiden and Robert Johnson, is built upon Satanic foundations. But such attitudes are not for this secular blogger. While writing for the McGill Daily several years ago, I made an assertion that I stand by to this day: Christian Rock rocks. I mean: Jesus, look at the motherfucker windmill!

But why won't anyone take Lifehouse – or my adoration of their first single – seriously? Why, exactly, must appreciation of Lifehouse (or music like Lifehouse) be perpetually drained through a colander of irony? What, precisely, makes Lifehouse kitschy?

Lifehouse critics - we call them 'delusional' -might, perhaps, point at the fact that the band rode the final, dying waves of neo-grunge to moderate success. Lifehouse, admittedly, could be classified as derivative and un-threatening. And, as usual, there will always be a segment of music fans who distrust pop music or anything played on FM radio waves. All these criticisms are ridiculous. All these criticisms are wrong.

The distrust with pop music seems to stem from the unlikely merger of commercialism and art - the very combination that Andy Warhol critiqued and rode to fame. For art-quakers, the fear is that art is tainted, unpure, and inauthentic when combined with any ulterior motives - motives that concern themselves with anything other than the creation (read: production) of art. This was an attitude spearheaded by the Frankfurt School, which has, in recent years, manifested itself in amateur punk-rock tweens (and, seemingly, their squirrely friends). Pop music, argues Theodor Adorno and his black-and-pink, wristbanded minions – caters to our most base desires, group mentalities, and animalistic instincts – or, specifically, pop art caters exclusively to runny-nosed, mouth-breathing, hyper- impressionable masses.

Now, here we run into problems. Merging commercial interests with art isn't anything particularly new, nor is it necessarily troubling, nor does it necessarily denigrate the value of art. In local/Toronto terms, while it's fine-and-dandy to protest Starbucks' entry into the (supposedly bohemian) West Queen West neighbourhood, residents simply cannot protest the emerald coffee chain's success. Starbucks, despite not possessing artistic credibility (insofar as a coffee shop can), is massively popular – and that is because people, residents included – enjoy it.

West Queen West, despite their impotent protests, such as denial scrawled on walls, has taken a vote: they oppose consumerist iconography in their neighbourhood, but they enjoy (and will consume) Starbucks. They oppose the intrusion big business in their neighbourhoods, but don't oppose Venti half-sweet black teas (no water). As I've mentioned earlier in this blog, Leslieville will soon follow.

This isn't a matter of group mentalities, availability, or convenience; while West Queen West offers countless alternatives, three Starbucks locations positioned scant blocks apart (on Bathurst, Claremont, and Dovercourt) continue to strive despite their close proximity to each other. Are we to believe that Queen West's many art-patrons are succumbing to dark, swirling, corporate forces? Caving into the consensus? I'm not buying it: if there's a neighbourhood who could resist the allure of overpriced coffee, it's West Queen West.

And they just happen to like Starbucks.

Just like crust-punks enjoy McDonalds and iPhones. Just like vegan hardcore kids wear Nike Dunks. There may be insidious, unseen forces at play here, certainly; but I'm not willing to reduce the complexity of the consumer choices that West Queen West residents, crust-punks, or Earth Crisis enthusiast, such as the amiable fellow to the left, have made. And I'm not willing to assume that they're marionettes to their heavily-socialized consumerist impulses; they've voted with their dollars, and it's clear that they've voted for particular products. Yes, they've chosen these products due to availability, cost, and convenience, but they've also made decisions based on aesthetics and personal taste as well – there are a myriad of factors that percolate prior to the commitment of a consumer choice.

So, why aren't music listeners willing to apply this logic to pop music? True, almost all pop music irrefutably merges commercial interest with art. But successful pop music, such as Hanging by a Moment, completes the merger successfully and seamlessly. The consumption of pop music might be consumer choice, but these choices can be amazing complex – and they can also be correct. There's no binary Pavlovian instinctual trigger that compels us to love Lifehouse and spend-spend-spend; the (very reductionist, admittedly) reason that Hanging by a Moment was elected the most listened to song in 2001 is because it's an incredible execution of pop magic.
Really, millions of listeners can be wrong; but let's at least give them some credit.

Edit: For some fine slice of pop music blogging, check out Action and Action.