"Those who do not know their history are doomed to repeat it." Some leathery old bastard or other said that, and in the grand scheme of human interaction, it's almost certainly true. But down here on the Tampa Bay music-column level — where hell is for children and the unfathomable mechanics of an uncertain universe trail far behind sarcasm, the cool factor, and whoever's coming to town this week in terms of general interest — who cares?
If you're looking for a wide-scope rehash of The Year In Music, by all means, go buy Spin. If recollected scene-centric minutiae are what you crave, please, pick up a copy of Focus, scan for the names of yourself and your friends, set it on the stack with the others, wipe, flush, hoist your shorts, wash your hands and return to work/PlayStation2/ rehearsal. What follows is a look at some of the things that shaped 2001's musical landscape — both locally and in general — and, more importantly, how those factors may affect Bay area bands and fans alike in the coming year.
Why Would I Steal A Copy of That When It Sucks?
All industry reports have revealed a major slowdown in CD sales throughout the past year, beginning long before the tragedy of Sept. 11 sent all retail revenues south. Pundits, freelance marketing teams and execs place the blame squarely on the proliferation of CD burners and Internet piracy. Most complaints, however, conspicuously ignored the world's largest free-music distributor, radio.
By attaining a virtual stranglehold on corporate airwaves, major labels have in effect nurtured a monstrous Catch-22. If you expose the masses to only a narrow portion of the available options, then only a narrow portion of the exposed masses are going to relate, and buy.
Fans: Those of you disenchanted with classic rock and modern rock that sounds like classic rock may find true love in mix-discs or at a local original-music club; those of you who don't know what a "CD burner" is may disregard all of this and continue requesting "Margaritaville."
Bands: The argument that selling your CDs for $12 makes you appear Big Time is now irrelevant, but then again, so are costly indulgences like, say, cover art. Plus, as an unsigned, unknown entity, you're already at least $125,000 ahead of a signed, unknown entity.
Wait, Turn Back — Holy Shit, Is This Weezer?
97X surprised quite a few Bay area cynics in 2001 by boldly spinning some tuneage that was actually still considered cutting-edge in larger major markets. Breakthrough underground-associated acts like New Found Glory and Jimmy Eat World may have some serious push behind them these days, but you still won't hear them during drive-time across a large portion of the country.
Giving rock 'n' roll's new wave equal space alongside urban, nu-metal and tried-and-true tracks is a bold move around here. So is backing hometown acts, and since its inception, 97X has sponsored several locals-only nights at area clubs, as well as lending airtime to such bands as Greed Engine and Harry Dash.
It ain't Radio Clash, or even The Pit, but the local rock scene garnered more attention from corporate FM radio this year than it has in a while, 98Rock's slash-and-burn morning hijinks notwithstanding.
Fans: Don't feel surprised when that band that rocks you on the way home from work turns out to be local and unsigned, but do feel a little out of touch. Then replace that feeling with one of exuberant intimacy by paying four bucks to see them with two other bands you've never heard of — as often as you can.
Bands: Try not to be too obvious as you shift your sycophancy from Bubba to Pat Largo. Oh, and have you ever heard of a little station called WMNF? They've been playing and supporting good local bands for years. Jeez.
There's This New Thing, It's Called Rock
Rock 'n' roll isn't dead, it just had a bad accident (or several, depending upon whom you ask) and lay comatose for a while, like Johnny Smith in The Dead Zone. And it doesn't matter whether you think it was U2 or The Strokes who saved it — what matters is that, in a musical climate ruled by the subgenre, there are artists filling in the holes between the pigeonholes, obliterating the cliques with emotion, groove and hook.
See, first it was cool to be rock. Then, it was uncool to be rock. After that, it was very uncool to be rock, but at the same time, it was pretty cool to be rock ironically — like to be rock, but not really. And now, it's cool to actually be rock again. See how it works? Countrified, retro, pop, whatever — the hooky guitar riff is back, and being reworked by upstarts dissatisfied with aping Pearl Jam. Bands both on the fringe (The White Stripes, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club) and in the mainstream (Ryan Adams, a resuscitated Weezer) have served to bring rock back into vogue by delivering singularly engaging variations on the theme.
Fans: Old-schoolers distracted by club culture as well as kids who never experienced a live-music coming of age may both embrace new rock — if the quality of widely heard stuff keeps improving.
Bands: There's still a little time to segue from "emo" to "garage-pop" without anybody screaming "sellout".
Meet The New Club, (Not The) Same As The Old Club
Local acts lost and gained a couple of venues this year, which is pretty much par for the course. Clearwater's Club More buckled under an unbelievably coincidental run of city-driven misfortune. South of the Skyway, Keegan's Clubhouse opted to quit hosting original bands after one too many hassles. And who knows what the hell is up with the folks who were booking Club Hedo and Planet 9-Ball in Tampa?
On the flip-side, New Port Richey's Bourbon Street came into its own as a host for showcase bills, and the Club More crew found a new space at Central Stage in St. Petersburg. In addition, downtown St. Pete's Emerald Bar is well on its way to becoming Central Avenue's best-loved gig-spot/watering hole. In their own fashion, the clubs influence the state of the scene.
There's always someplace to play — no matter how many lazy, spoiled, or jaded bands whine to the contrary — but certain groups become associated with certain venues, and then see it as a pretty damn big deal when their home turf inevitably goes dance, goes "cover," or goes under — at least until the more intrepid of them seek out the next HQ.
Fans: Uninhibited Clearwater babes, and the dudes who stalk them, will have to drive further to see Big Sky; Club More particle-board splinters to be replaced by Skipper's Smokehouse sand spurs.
Bands: On nights off, you'll have further to drive to watch uninhibited Clearwater babes watch Big Sky.
I Swear, Klezmercore Will Be Next
If 2001 shed any light at all on the undulations of popular-music tastes, it served only to illuminate that no one can presuppose trends with complete success. Undoubtedly, several of your friends have clued you in on their various "cycle" theories. Just as undoubtedly, none of them has graced the cover of Rolling Stone or made porno-love to Pamela Anderson on a big pile of music-industry money.
It's tougher than it seems to predict shifts in the tastes of large groups of people, whether by manipulation, evolution or a combination of the two. Britney Spears is still a Top 10 item; Juvenile is irrelevant; Linkin Park sold as many albums this week as they did 22 weeks ago; five East Village hipsters known as The Strokes topped the CMJ chart with an album that sounds like it was recorded in a bedroom, which it pretty much was. Who knew? And who knows what the case will be next December? We don't, because no matter how much we like to think we can, we can't.
Fans: Turn on your radio. If it sucks, turn it off. Also, when the weird younger guy with glasses in your office talks about music, for the love of God, listen to him.
Bands: Do it because you love it, do it because it's fun, do it because it gets you laid, but please don't do it because you think it's what lots of other people are going to want to hear, and that it will consequently make you rich.
How Many Albums Did Radiohead Put Out This Year?
Fans: You'll learn to accept being inspired and completely flummoxed at the same time.
Bands: Don't even think about it — just go do your thing.
Scott Harrell can be reached by e-mail at scott.harrell@weeklyplanet.com.
This article appears in Dec 27, 2001 – Jan 2, 2002.