Phoenix - It's Never Been Like That - 2006

Casual discussions of what constitutes "canonical" music often become hamstrung by the shallow perception that "big" = "important". Sometimes it's easy to see through the bullshit; no one will ever mistake Muse for a band of historical importance, despite the fact that they deal exclusively in clunky, grandiose monstrosities that make U2 seem positively subtle in comparison.

Things become more complicated when a band of real importance enters the fold. Ask 100 people what the best Led Zeppelin song is and I guarantee no fewer than 70 of them will say "Stairway to Heaven." Now, this is naturally due in part to a lack of knowledge of the entire Zeppelin category, but after serving 25+ years as staples of classic rock radio, it can be presumed that anyone willing to offer his/her opinion would be working with a knowledge of no fewer than 10 or so Zeppelin songs. No doubt, half of these songs are much better than "Stairway to Heaven."

Now, it's hardly their worst song and certainly not their most obnoxiously self-indulgent (hello, "Carouselabra"), but it when it comes to their most radio-friendly songs, "Stairway" (the kind of people who love this song always call it this) is the one that begs, pleads "take me seriously--pay no mind to the fact that I'm singing about hobbits and shit--guitar solo!"

So people are like, "Okay, I'll forgive the fact that the first 3 and a half minutes of this song are sort of boring. This guitar solo is super-badass, so badass in fact, that i'm going to revise my earlier opinion and say the first half of this song isn't boring and that these lyrics about bustles in hedgerows and may queens or whateverthefuck are actually really deep and meaningful. Yeah!"

When you combine this with the fact that virtually any person to pick up a guitar in the last 20 years can play at least a couple recognizable bars of this song, you've got a ridiculous song that becomes important because it seems (and sounds) important.

I don't think it's all that great.

Now take "Communication Breakdown." Nothing about it sounds important, it's just over 2 minutes long and the majority of people wouldn't be able to place it by name alone. But you're crazy if you don't believe an album of say, 8 "Communication Breakdown"'s with a "Dazed and Confused" or two thrown in wouldn't be one of the most perfect rock records ever created.

Especially compared to their later work, "Communication Breakdown" sounds absolutely effortless--the efforts of a bunch of dudes who just straight up didn't give a fuck. That's rock and roll. But i'm not here to canonize "Communication Breakdown"--nobody will every canonize "Communication Breakdown." I'm way out of my element here. I'm here to canonize Phoenix, a band that, for a completely different set of reasons, doesn't give a fuck.

Phoenix has the dubious distinction of being what I like to call a "privileged band"--a band full of people who, in the vein of the Strokes or Vampire Weekend, never had to work a day in their lives and shockingly were still able to write and perform catchy pop songs. Oh, but they lack "authenticity." This is a big deal to 14 year olds everywhere.

The question is, what exactly is "authenticity" in this scenairio? Phoenix and the Strokes aren't attempting to stand for anything, and Vampire Weekend stand for, I guess, boat shoes and cardigans and grammar? I'll take issue with Vampire Weekend here, simply because:
1. They've got maybe one good song.
2. Music doesn't really need to stand up for boat shoes and cardigans--that's what the J. Crew catalog is for.

I hate to oversimplify here, or sound like someone from a vh1 reality show, but when it comes down to priviliged bands and the notion of authenticity, the haters are just jealous. Who wouldn't be? Rich guys get laid. Guys in bands get laid. Rich guys in bands are basically superhuman.

Is this not the ideal situation to create great pop songs? Who better to create sunny, effortless music than a bunch of guys without problems? There isn't a moment on It's Never Been Like That that sounds even the least bit labored. It's a record that you can listen to from beginning to end, then listen to again without pause. Not because it's complicated enough to require carefull analysis, but because it's so simple you don't have to think about it at all. You could probably play this album for the duration of a party without hearing a complaint. Seeing as though parties are the domain of hit singles, what does that say about this album?

And that brings up the most peculiar aspect of It's Never Been Like That and maybe even the reason it's so effective as an album in the first place: it lacks a "hit single." "One Time Too Many" is handily the best song on the record, but not in a way as to overshadow the rest of it. Some albums are peaks and valleys--this one is a high plateau with a peak. It's a hit album, not a hit single.

Granted, it wasn't actually either--but it should have been.

It's refreshing to hear a band that doesn't feel compelled to attempt grand, artistic statements and instead chooses to simply be the best pop band they can possibly be. Musicians who challenge themselves and their listeners with ambitious records are absolutley necessary, but great, ambitious albums are just as rare as perfect pop albums. It's Never Been Like That certainly falls into the latter category, so why not celebrate it?

The Strokes - Is This It? - 2001

When the Strokes released Is This It? in 2001, I was incensed. How dare this band of rich kids from New York release a good album!

Naturally, I didn't think the album was good at the time, because I didn't listen to it. I saw the video for "Last Nite" (on MTV!), thought the song was pretty awesome and knew automatically that I Hated This Band. I mean, how dare they?

In 2001, I was 15 years old and nothing was more important to me than feeling a sense of ownership over the bands that I liked. And here come the Strokes, looking all cool with their leather jackets and just ruining everything. I spent my adolescent years listening to punk rock and cultivating an entire persona around listening to music that no one else listened to, only to have these chumps come around and blow everything up. At the time, I was positive that within a month, everyone I knew would be listening to the Velvet Underground and Television and I'd be the same as everyone else.

Of course, it never happened that way--and why would it have? No normal person hears a pop song and views it as a threat to their way of life. Most people don't put any thought into the music they listen to, which explains why Shaggy had not one, but two #1 singles in 2001. In fact, during the height of the Strokes' relative ubiquity, their only real contribution to pop-culture was opening the flood gates for a wave of bands with "the" in their names.

So, in a way, the Strokes were responsible for me purchasing and listening to Highly Evolved by the Vines. The year was 2001. I bought a CD. By the Vines. And I Hated the Strokes. I was 15. We all make mistakes.

Following the whole "garage band revival" bullshit that ultimately went nowhere, I rarely put any thought into the Strokes--if someone brought them up, I would regurgitate my standard "inauthentic rich kid" talking points and move on. More often then not, people would agree with me--it's now evident to me that I wasn't the only 15 year old who viewed the Strokes as an affront to their identity.

But then one night in 2008 I was alone in a bar in Berlin and "Is This It?" came on, and with no one around to tell how much I hated the Strokes, I was forced to actually listen to it. So I did. And for those 2 and a half minutes, I felt like the coolest motherfucker on the planet. Later, I sat down and listened to the whole album; the singles were exactly the same as I remembered them, which is to say that they still sounded great. Even when I Hated the Strokes, I still took the time to learn how to play the intro to "Hard to Explain" and if "Last Nite" or "Someday" just happened to come on the radio, I'd express my distaste for the band, but secretly enjoy the songs anyway. The rest of the album? Very few complaints--If you can make a 36 minute album with three top-notch singles and a handful of other songs that are merely "good", I will listen to it any time. At 15, Is This It? would have blown my mind, had I not been so worried about it destroying my life.