Culture Sluts











{July 10, 2008}   Buffy the Vampire Slayer and ‘Alternative’ Culture

During the 1980s, popular culture became increasingly commercialised. Music became dominated by pop superstars, synthpop groups and glam metal bands, slickly produced for the MTV generation, valuing style over substance and image over actualité. In this manner popular culture drove a parallel path to the prevailing political culture, which valued commercial success and majority appeal over social welfare and minority concerns.

At the same time, cultural and political resistance began to develop. College/alternative rock, indie, hardcore punk, thrash metal and hardcore hip hop all catered to audiences who valued ‘authenticity’ over mainstream blandness. At the beginning of the 1990s, these underground movements exploded into the mainstream. Grunge and Britpop were, for me, two sides of the same coin, each expressions of alternative or indie music gaining a foothold in mainstream culture. Both had their faults, as I’ve discussed previously, and both were eventually recuperated into the mainstream, but both were welcome shocks to a mainstream culture which was becoming increasingly stagnant.

In American culture, the 1990s began on 10th September 1991, with the release of Nirvana’s Smells Like Teen Spirit. It’s subsequent popularity and meteoric rise up the charts opened the door to mainstream acceptance of grunge and other ‘alternative’ forms of pop music. The explosion of pent up creativity which came in the aftermath of Nirvana’s success is comparable in quantity and quality to that which came in the wake of the Sex Pistols in the late seventies, or the Beatles in the sixties. This surely stakes out Nirvana’s claim as one of the greatest bands ever to exist; like the Pistols and the Beatles, not only did they bring their design for life to the world, they cemented it firmly into popular conciousness, with reverberations which were felt for the rest of the decade and beyond. The simple assertion that alternative was good opened door for many different alternative lifestyles to be accepted, from third wave feminism to teenage nihilism to uninhibited sexuality (and ambiguous sexuality) to drug-fuelled debauchery. And, of course, goth.

Culturally, this bubble was burst on 20th April 1999, when two students into alternative culture opened fire on those they considered representative of mainstream ‘jock’ culture in Columbine High School. Suddenly, being goth was no longer cute, but was instead something to be feared- a new enemy within. Politically, it would be another two and a half years before an enemy within emerged that made goths seem sweet by comparison, and the social liberalism of the nineties gave way to rabid neo-conservatism.

But for a brief period, being uncool was cool, and being dark and gothic was a big plus. During this period emerged Buffy the Vampire Slayer, a programme whose original air dates mirrored my own time at high school but which I never felt compelled to watch, seeing it as just another stereotypical sickly high school teen drama with added vampires. How wrong I was. Madam Miaow’s scathing review of the Torchwood season two finale prompted me to check out James Marsters before he was John Barrowman’s fuck buddy, and having worked my way through season one and half of season two, I have to say that Buffy the Vampire Slayer is some of the best TV I have ever seen. The script is immensely well written, the acting flawless (particularly from the instantly likeable Alyson Hannigan as Willow) and the shamelessly cheesy monsters and special effects rival anything from Russell T Grant’s tribute show.

Much has already been written about the way Buffy deals with the problems facing teenagers at high school, and there is little I can add. For example, in the introduction to Fighting the Forces, Rhonda V. Wilcox and David Lavery illustrate how real life concerns are represented occult and supernatural forces.

“In the world of Buffy the problems that teenagers face become literal monsters. A mother can take over her daughter’s life (”Witch”); a strict stepfather-to-be really is a heartless machine (”Ted”); a young lesbian fears that her nature is demonic (”Goodbye Iowa” and “Family”); a girl who has sex with even the nicest-seeming guy may discover that he afterwards becomes a monster (”Innocence”)”

This brings to mind Roobin’s take on the X-Files (part 1, part 2) where it is argued that the fictional monsters and conspiracies in the programme are projections of a critique of neo-liberalism and an attempt to escape from alienation. Buffy the Vampire Slayer borrows heavily from the X-Files, using the ‘monster of the week theme’ and even has the FBI using an invisible girl as a military asset during the episode “Out of Sight, Out of Mind”.

Another aspect of Buffy oft subject to academic discussion is the music used in the show. An essay by Janet K. Halfyard discusses the significance of the opening theme music.


“Firstly, there is the instrument itself: we have the sound of an organ, accompanied by a wolf’s howl, with a visual image of a flickering night sky overlaid with unintelligible archaic script: the associations with both the silent era and films such as Nosferatu and with the conventions of the Hammer House of Horror and horror in general are unmistakable. [...] The theme of BtVS starts with this organ horror signifier but then instantly changes its message. It removes itself from the sphere of 1960s and 70s horror by replaying the same motif, the organ now supplanted by an aggressively strummed electric guitar, relocating itself in modern youth culture, relocating the series in an altogether different arena than that of both Hammer and its spoofs.”

The Hammer Horror movies of the sixties and seventies were a direct influence on early heavy metal- in fact, it can be argued that metal was born when the members of Black Sabbath noticed how people would go to the cinema and pay good money to be frightened, and decided to make their music as scary as possible. Early heavy metal (and Black Sabbath in particular) was a big influence on the grunge bands of the early nineties, who updated the sound with the influence of American alternative rock. Thus Buffy the Vampire Slayer represents an update of the horror genre for the late nineties, just as grunge represented an update of hard rock for the early nineties.

The grunge influence is made explicit in Buffy from the first episode, when Buffy goes to the Bronze (’the only club worth going to around here’) and sees grunge band Sprung Monkey playing onstage. Throughout the series alternative rock bands are regularly seen playing at the venue, and even feature in the storyline. Most are unsigned, but apparently Third Eye Blind, The Dandy Warhols and Blink 182 crop up in later episodes.

But what really interests me about the programme is the attempt it makes to subvert the usual societal norms of a dominant, mainstream culture which marginalises those who don’t conform to it. This, as I’m sure we all remember, is something particularly true of the social order at high school. The first episode of Buffy starts with the eponymous vampire slayer moving to a new school and trying to make new friends. We are introduced to Cordelia, whose primary activities are looking good and achieving upward social mobility. We are also introduced to Willow, a computer geek who Cordelia defines as one of the ‘losers’, a distinct social strata below herself and her hangers on.

Cordelia: Well, you’ll be okay here. If you hang with me and mine, you’ll be accepted in no time. Of course, we do have to test your coolness factor. You’re from L.A., so you can skip the written, but let’s see. Vamp nail polish.

Buffy: Um, over?

Cordelia: So over. James Spader.

Buffy: He needs to call me!

Cordelia: Frappaccinos.

Buffy: Trendy, but tasty.

Cordelia: John Tesh.

Buffy: The Devil.

Cordelia: That was pretty much a gimme, but… you passed!

Buffy: Oh, goody!

They turn toward a drinking fountain. Willow is there. She straightens up and sees them coming.

Cordelia: Willow! Nice dress! Good to know you’ve seen the softer side of Sears.

Willow: Uh, oh, well, my mom picked it out.

Cordelia: No wonder you’re such a guy magnet. Are you done?

Willow looks at the fountain, then back at Cordelia.

Willow: Oh!

She turns and leaves. Buffy watches her go for a moment, then looks back at Cordelia after she starts talking again.

Cordelia: You wanna fit in here, the first rule is: know your losers. Once you can identify them all by sight (glances after Willow) they’re a lot easier to avoid.

Buffy later seeks out Willow.

The quad at school. Willow is sitting on a bench in front of a wall taking out her lunch. Buffy approaches her.

Buffy: Uh, Hi! Willow, right?

Willow: (looks up) Why? I-I mean, hi! Uh, did you want me to move?

Buffy: Why don’t we start with, ‘Hi, I’m Buffy,’ and, uh, then let’s segue directly into me asking you for a favor. (sits next to her) It doesn’t involve moving, but it does involve hanging out with me for a while.

Willow: But aren’t you hanging out with Cordelia?

Buffy: I can’t do both?

Willow: Not legally.

We know from “Out of Sight, Out of Mind” that Buffy was a popular girl at her old school, and could easily fit into the highest social rank at Sunnydale. But she chooses not to. Willow and a similar character called Xander become her friends, learn of her vampire slaying powers and together form the ‘Scooby Gang’ to research demons and aid Buffy in battle. By contrast Cordelia quickly becomes little more than a figure of fun who features in the storyline only when the writers want to poke fun at the stereotypically shallow American high school girl.

The programme sets its stall firmly on the side of the socially excluded in high school society, and in doing so reflects the prevalence ‘alternative’ culture had by the late nineties, so much so that it had become part of mainstream shows such as Buffy. Whatever politics Buffy the Vampire Slayer may have explored later, this is what defines it as a classic piece of nineties television.

Culture Vulture @ 4:36 am [filed under TV, music tagged , , , , 2 Comments »


{December 23, 2007}   When is ‘Indie’ not indie?

The CribsAnswer: When it’s ‘Findie’ (hat tip)

Tune into a mainstream radio station in 2007 and more likely than not the song being played will by from a bunch of skinny white boys with guitars who describe themselves as an ‘indie’ band. Most likely they’ll be backed by a record label, produce a few hit singles, sell an album off the back of them and then disappear into relative obscurity. Nothing inherently wrong or unusual about that, it’s the way pop music has been sold for decades.

Which is precisely the point. What we call ‘indie’ music is rooted in the development of an independent approach to making music during the post-punk period of 1978-84. Initially, the major punk bands chose to take on the established music industry by using their own power against them. The Sex Pistols perfected the art of signing to major labels for large amounts of money and behaving so obnoxiously that the labels paid them even larger sums to go away. The Clash signed to CBS and played nicely, using their commercial success to obtain platform for their views and negotiate reduced record prices for their fans. You can judge for yourself who was most successful.

Many of the bands who emerged in the wake of punk took a different approach, defining themselves against the industry and setting up their own record labels to release their music. The best know of the early Indie bands and labels are probably Joy Division on Factory records, the Smiths on Rough Trade records, and Primal Scream (amongst others) on Creation records. These bands were called ‘Indie’ because they actually were independent of the major labels. By the mid-eighties this method of approaching the business side of making music had also helped define a musical sound, an artistic style and an creative scene, represented well in the C86 tape released by the NME in 1986. If you can get hold of a copy it’s well worth listening too, not because it’s particularly good (it isn’t) but because, as Andrew Collins said, it’s “the most indie thing to have ever existed”. Nicky Wire (yes, I know, him again) wrote a good article about C86 for the Guardian last year which nicely captures the spirit of indie music.

“If there was any kind of coherence, it was the fact that the bands were so independent from the music industry and from the mainstream media. People were doing everything themselves: making their own records, doing the artwork, gluing the sleeves together, releasing them and sending them out, writing fanzines because the music press lost interest really quickly.

[...]

“A couple of the bands went on to lasting success, including Primal Scream - who now seem really embarrassed about that era in their history. But most C86 bands had a lack of ambition in a really good way. There seemed no desire to make any money. Today’s indie artists are well-groomed; in the C86 era, every band member had holes in their jumpers. It wasn’t a punk thing, it was a poor thing. You also got the impression, looking at a C86 band, that a lot of these musicians were living at home with their parents. This was totally inspirational: here were people who were in a band and just like you.”

Indie took a different direction towards the end of the eighties. The success of bands like Happy Mondays and Stone Roses brought the sound of indie music into the mainstream without bringing the fiercely independent attitude with it. These bands had no lack of ambition; they openly wanted to conquer the world. From there it wasn’t too long before Blur and Oasis were releasing singles simultaneously and measuring success by record sales, which would have been a complete anathema to the indie bands of 10 years previous.

I make this point not to make a value judgement on the way I think bands should operate, but to emphasise the difference between the original concept of indie as independent music set against the music industry and mainstream media, and the way many bands who later claimed the term indie actually operated.

In America the term ‘alternative rock’ has much the same role as ‘indie’. The American bands which emerged in the aftermath of punk were ‘hardcore’ bands such as Minor Threat, Black Flag and Dead Kennedys, who took the sonic assault of punk to its logical extreme; and ‘college rock’ bands such as REM, Sonic Youth and the Replacements, who were so called because student radio stations were amongst the only place where their music could be heard. Like the British indie bands of the eighties, both scenes had a fiercely anti-commercial philosophy, and spent much of the decade building an independent scene by touring around the country in battered Transit vans. Through the independent touring circuit which was established, the melodic song writing of college rock and the power and energy of hardcore punk came together in a new wave of alternative rock bands know as grunge, with Nirvana at their head.

What we now know as alternative rock might be musically similar to the bands which emerged from the American underground in the late eighties and early nineties, but the independent spirit is nowhere to be found. Again, the use of the term ‘alternative rock’ to describe such bands must be called into question. Foo Fighters, Staind, Puddle of Mudd and Nickleback are not alternatives to the mainstream, they are the mainstream. If you listen carefully to Echoes, Silence, Patience and Grace you can hear Kurt Cobain spinning in his grave as though his feet were tied to an aeroplane propeller.

And as it was with British indie and American alternative rock in the nineties, so it is with the current crop of mediocre major label cash cows who clog up the airwaves with so-called ‘indie’ music. The post-punk revival at the start of the decade was a welcome return to guitar music after the dismal dance-pop of the late nineties, and many of the emerging bands (the Libertines, British Sea Power) brought with them something of the independent philosophy of the original post-punk movement. But the current crop of faux indie (or ‘findie’) bands being pushed by the record industry have very little to with the independent production of music and represent the mainstream of popular music rather than any sort of alternative vision.

Y’know the stuff- bands like the Wombats, the Hoosiers, the Pigeon Detectives, the Fratellis. It’s almost like there’s a manual for putting these bands togeher. you get a bunch of skinny white kids with floppy hair and regional accents, put them in jeans and leather jackets, give them a Fender Telecaster or Gibson ES series guitar and a lightly overdriven amp and get them write songs of love and loss with self-obsessed ironic lyrics which are still cheery enough to get played at the indie clubs. It might sound unobjectionable- it pushes all the right buttons, after all- but in your heart you know it’s just shit.

Alright, that’s a bit harsh. If people like this stuff then that’s fair enough, and I don’t really hate it. For example, the Wombat’s Moving to New York is likeable enough, and nicely captures the feeling of going a bit crazy due to overwork and sleep deprivation. But it’s hardly original, and and it feels a long time since the Libertines were holding gigs in flats and tube stations. Certainly it doesn’t deserve to be called independent music. This is what the Cribs are getting at when they bang on about the ‘commercialisation of indie’.

You’d never exist if you wasn’t generic
You have to impress our bovine public
I’ll never forget how all this begun
And I will never regret a thing I have done
But you would never exist without us

Well you say nothing
So you’ll always mean nothing to me
And if what you say means nothing
Then what you say will always mean nothing to me

- The Cribs, Our Bovine Public

I guess what I’m trying to get at is that the impetus of 2002/3 is fading away. It’s an inevitable part of any musical movement. Something emerges organically from the primordial soup of young people with nothing to do other than make music, and is then repeatedly Xeroxed by the music industry, losing a little definition and resolution each time, until it barely represents the ideals which drove people to make such music in the first place. Right now, we’re at the fag end of the post-punk revival, looking for something new.

At least I’m not the only person whinging about the state of popular music. (Actually, there’s been some great albums this yeah, but very few of them from British guitar bands.) John Harris wrote something along the same lines in his last article for the Guardian Review the other day.

“Preparing for this final instalment, I thought about having a quick cry, and then had a long look through my 65 or so columns, which gave me a load of memories I didn’t actually know I had, and hardened a suspicion that music is currently taking a rum turn, and that the middle distance might be the best place from which to observe it. The other day, for example, I got on a train to Manchester to see the revived Squeeze - who were great, but that’s my problem - and sat next to a bunch of fellas on their way to a Shed Seven concert. Led Zeppelin was that week’s media obsession, and further down the carriage, someone’s iPod was tweeting out the Verve’s Bitter Sweet Symphony. Something is not right here at all, and the fact that 1) Radiohead, Damon Albarn and Oasis still loom over domestic rock, and 2) bands continue to sound like Joy Division and Gang of Four some five years after that syndrome started, are unrelated parts of the same feeling. It rather smells of death, but I may well be part of the problem - and anyway, it’s Christmas, so I should shut up.”

Naah. Why stop whinging for Christmas?

Culture Vulture @ 12:16 am [filed under music tagged , , , , , No Comments »


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