Post-Grunge vs. Post-Punk

In my last article, I gave an impassioned defense of the Foo Fighters, the post-grunge rockers fronted by Nirvana drummer Dave Grohl. And while I had plenty positive to say about the band, the bulk of the article was devoted to separating the Foos from their post-grunge peers. It’s pretty easy to read between the lines to get my thoughts on the genre as a whole, but if you missed the message, I’ll put it front and center: I’m not a fan. Aside from the Foo Fighters, there are some songs and artists I do enjoy, but in general I find the genre painfully derivative.

After finishing my write-up, my thoughts turned to another well-known “post” genre, only this time it’s one I love: post-punk. Contextually, post-punk and post-grunge have a lot in common. Both came on the heels of back-to-basics movements that shunned the glitz and glamor of mainstream rock and instead focused on energy and emotion. But artistically, post-punk and post-grunge couldn’t be more different. While post-punk was an expansion of punk’s aesthetic and structural limits, post-grunge just watered grunge down.

So why the difference? Maybe it has to do with our nomenclature. The “post” prefix has always been tricky for fans of music (and other art forms), because it doesn’t really mean anything. Or at least anything consistent. Post-grunge, to its credit, makes sense at face value. Post-grunge took the artistic elements of grunge, added a little more marketability, and… stopped there. The movement felt like an unfortunately logical next step for a genre as popular as grunge.

Post-punk, on the other hand, feels like a bit of a misnomer. Although post-punk didn’t abandon the artistic integrity and DIY ethic of punk, it featured a much wider and more experimental sonic palette. This meant that post-punk was more of a catch-all term for the more clearly defined genres that grew out of punk, such as New Wave (think Talking Heads) or gothic rock (think Joy Division). Like post-grunge, the term “post-punk” is contextually descriptive, but it encompasses a much larger and more diverse group of artists and aesthetics.

Despite its imprecision, I don’t think we should throw out the term “post-punk.” Nor should we ditch “post-grunge” altogether. Instead, we should aim to be more consistent with our nomenclature. Post-punk is still a great way to refer to the slew of bands, genres, and scenes that grew out of punk rock, but if we’re talking about a specific group, let’s be specific. And instead of calling bands like Bush and Creed “post-grunge,” maybe we go with something like “second-wave grunge” or, depending on your feelings, “kinda shitty grunge.”

  Now the term “post-grunge” is freed up. For the sake of consistency, we should apply it the same way we apply “post-punk”: a catch-all for the sounds that emerged after its predecessor’s popularity waned. Bands like the White Stripes and the Arctic Monkeys are ideal candidates, but we could also throw in groups like the Strokes and Interpol, which are ironically referred to today as “post-punk revival.”

Ok, I’m being a bit facetious there. Though I stand by my bulletproof logic, I don’t think the resulting confusion would make the slight improvement in consistency worth it. I do, however, hope to see a little more consistency in how we talk about genres going forward. Mainly so I can spend less time trying to figure out what all these prefixes mean.

Lyle B.

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In Defense Of - Foo Fighters

Let me set the scene: it’s the fall of 2015, and I, an eager young rock fan, have tickets to see the Foo Fighters tour in support of their eighth album Sonic Highways. A friend asks if I have weekend plans, and I excitedly reply that I’m going to go watch the Foos melt some faces Saturday night. His face morphs into one of mild disgust, and he says “Really? They’re like one step above Nickelback.” I’m shocked. Betrayed. Indignant. Who would dare compare the Foo Fighters to bland radio fodder like Nickelback?

As it turns out, quite a lot of people. The Foo Fighters may be one of the highest-profile rock n’ roll bands around, but to many, they’re just another staple of alt-rock radio. And those people have a point. The Foos have been cranking out radio-friendly rock songs for over 25 years now, so they have a pretty consistent presence on the airwaves. With so much middle-of-the-road material in circulation, it’s no leap of logic to write them off as a middle-of-the-road band.

But I don’t think that’s fair. The Foo Fighters haven’t always surpassed mediocrity, but they deserve some respect. Or at least some defense.

The Charges

1. Generic: The main, overarching criticism the Foos get. Most critics will concede the first few albums as quality, but generally write off the rest of the band’s discography as mediocre (or worse). It doesn’t help that Foo Fighters frontman Dave Grohl was previously the drummer for Nirvana. Comparison to Grohl’s previous band is inevitable, and as one of the definitive bands of the grunge era, Nirvana set an incredibly high bar for originality.

   It also doesn’t help that the Foo Fighters are just one of many bands to push grunge towards the mainstream. A million acts with heavy guitars and Cobain soundalikes popped up in the late 90s and early 00s, and many (like Nickelback) failed to justify their existence beyond a bland radio hit or two. The Foo Fighters might have a more legitimate claim to carry the grunge torch, but they get the same accusations of derivativeness as their contemporaries.

2. Bad Songwriting: The casual Foo Fighters non-fan might dismiss the band as generic, but the real haters tend to be even harsher. And not without cause. While the Foo Fighters generally bring some pretty solid riffs to each album, Dave Grohl’s songwriting can sometimes be a bit derivative. Throw in that they’ve stuck to the same hard rock formula for the last 20 years and you have a pretty solid case against the Foos’ songwriting abilities.

3. Dad Rock: The term “dad rock” is a popular way to describe bands like the Foo Fighters, both because of their fan base demographics and their own parental status. Like many dads, the Foo Fighters are set in their ways. They’ve been active for 25 years. Most of the band were active in other projects before that. And because the guys have been sticking to the same general blueprint their entire career, the music has gone a bit stale. As a result, a lot of would-be fans are turned off by this lack of artistic progression.

I have to admit, these are legitimate criticisms. But of course, I have plenty to say in response.

The Defense

1. It’s All About the Deep Cuts: The Foo Fighters have some bland songs, no doubt about it. But as is the case with most bands who get this type of criticism, the Foos have some gems in their discography. The self-titled debut and follow-up The Colour and the Shape are great listens cover-to-cover, and every album since has had at least one or two interesting songs on the tracklist. And even when the Foo Fighters are sticking to their arena rock comfort zone, they still make enjoyable music.

2. Look Beyond the Lyrics: Ok, so Dave Grohl isn’t the most profound lyricist ever. But he makes up for it with his monstrous drumming skills (matched only by the skills of official FF drummer Taylor Hawkins) and unique approach to riff writing. The average Foo Fighters song is for head-banging, not having a good cry. And by that metric, the Foos have written some seriously great songs (more on this below).

3. Dad Ain’t Bad: The Foo Fighters are absolutely dad rock, and they’re not afraid to admit it. The Foos know what they’re good at and what their fans want, so they stick to their guns. And if you’ve ever been to one of their shows, you know how well that’s worked out for them. It also helps that Dave has a healthy respect for modern music, which eases the inter-generational tension that sometimes exists between legacy acts and young fans. The Foo Fighters might play the music of a bygone era, but their appeal extends beyond their fellow fathers.

Closing Statements

I love the Foo Fighters. They were the first band I got really into that was still actively making music, and I have a lot of fond memories associated with their concerts and records. Hopefully, this article will make you think twice before turning that dial the next time “Learn to Fly” or “My Hero” comes on the radio. And if you need a bit more convincing, I’ve put together a few of my favorite Foo Fighters songs on the playlist below. Happy listening.

Lyle B.

A playlist featuring Foo Fighters

Comfort Music

Let’s be honest: life sucks right now. And while I haven’t had it as bad as many have, the relatively minor stress the pandemic has added to my life has basically stopped Off Pitch cold. A few months of mandatory isolation may seem like the perfect opportunity for listening and writing, but for me, it’s been just the opposite. Under the best of circumstances, I’m a habitual procrastinator with perpetual writer’s block. Throw in the ever-present mental burden of a pandemic and writing upbeat music articles feels like an insurmountable task. Even listening to music has felt daunting. In pre-2020 life, I would often use music as a way to block out all the noise of the outside world. Now I miss the outside noise. Instead, I’ve found myself turning to podcasts and stand-up comedy to mimic the human interaction I’ve been missing out on.

But as I’ve adjusted to the new normal, I’ve been slowly but surely getting back into the swing of things. And as I’ve begun to reacquaint myself with my Spotify account, I’ve thought a lot about how my relationship with music is affected by (and sometimes, affects) my state of mind.

In general, I like my music to reflect my mood, even if that mood is negative. Conventional wisdom might suggest that upbeat music is the best remedy for feeling down, but what can I say? I like to wallow. But it’s not just for the sake of throwing myself a pity party. Most of my favorite artists tend towards negative emotions in their writing. So the music might not sound comforting, but I get a sense of comfort from spending time with music I love.

  But I’m just one man. My comfort music likely isn’t the same as yours or anyone else's. We might have totally different definitions of what “comfort music” even is. So I decided to open it up to the wonderful Off Pitch followers. Here’s what y’all said:

I have to admit, I was a little surprised by this. While I knew I wasn’t the only one who liked to listen to moody music when I’m feeling down, I was expecting the numbers to be closer. Of course, Instagram polls aren’t exactly the pinnacle of the scientific method. So I did some research.

Most of the more compelling articles were behind paywalls, but I was able to find an article on Healthline that summarizes a few studies on music and mood. There’s a lot of information here, but the part that stuck out to me was this passage:

“An earlier study, published in the Journal of Consumer Research, found that people tend to prefer sad music when they are experiencing a deep interpersonal loss, like the end of a relationship.

The authors of that study suggested that sad music provides a substitute for the lost relationship. They compared it to the preference most people have for an empathic friend — someone who truly understands what you’re going through.”

So comfort really is the key here. While there are plenty of people who use music to lift themselves out of a funk (which, coincidentally, is an ideal genre for the task), a lot of us want that shoulder to cry on.

I love that Healthline passage for two reasons: it’s validating, and it puts into words what I think a lot of us already felt about our comfort music. Music isn’t just entertainment, or even art. It’s a friend who somehow always knows the right thing to say, whether that’s words of encouragement or consolation. And I think all of us could use a good friend in a time like this.

Lyle B.

P.S: About a week after the above poll, I did a follow-up to see if anyone else had lost their appetite for listening to music in the last few months. 89% responded that you were listening to more music during lockdown. Which makes sense. Not sure what’s going on with me.

Pop Picks - "Wonderwall"

No matter how big the hit, a song’s stint at the top of the charts is only a fraction of its existence. After that, all bets are off. Some hits fade quietly into irrelevance. Some are lucky enough to live on as “throwbacks” or “classics.” And of course, some become memes. Songs like “Never Gonna Give You Up” or “All Star” have achieved a unique immortality: re-discovered and re-popularized as the punchlines of jokes, they’ve worked their way back into pop culture in a lower-profile but more enduring role.

But anyway, here’s “Wonderwall.” This song, released by Britpop band Oasis in 1995, is a different sort of meme. Instead of being ironically loved, it’s unironically hated. And “Wonderwall” has no one to blame but itself. I won’t get too into music theory here, but basically, “Wonderwall” is built around a very basic chord progression, with some tweaks to make the chords sound all fancy and dissonant. The disastrous result is an easy-to-play song that sounds complex, making it the go-to opening number for every guy who brings his acoustic guitar to house parties.

As with most big hits, “Wonderwall''s popularity attracted some backlash. It got overplayed, and people got tired of it. Not exactly front-page news. But unlike most big hits, “Wonderwall” had the meme factor. Radio stations played it. Coffee shop open mic’ers played it. People making fun of the open mic’ers played it. The “Wonderwall” meme became a feedback loop of annoyance. Any mention of the song could be operating on one of God knows how many layers of irony, which just makes the joke too much effort to possibly be worth it.

So what better song to be the subject of a Pop Pick?! No, really. Almost all “Wonderwall” discussion, especially amongst people my age, is tongue-in-cheek. Obscured by all the memes is the simple truth: “Wonderwall” is a good song. Yeah, it’s a little cheesy and simplistic, but it’s a damn solid pop song with beautiful instrumentation and emotion. To write it off as just the butt of too many bad jokes is just plain unfair.

I won’t lie, I went back and forth quite a bit before deciding on “Wonderwall” for this installment of Pop Picks. Although my appreciation for this song is genuine, I didn’t want to add more fuel to a fire that’s burned for far too long. But in the end, I decided the positives outweigh the negatives. “Wonderwall” deserves some real discussion. And even if this particular song isn’t your thing, Oasis has plenty of other great ones to choose from (“Supersonic” and “Don’t Look Back In Anger” are personal favorites). There are probably loads of young rock fans missing out on a band they’d love because of a little bad press. So maybe think twice before you sarcastically strum those opening chords, and show this great song the respect it deserves.

“All Star” is still fair game though.

Lyle B.

In Defense Of - Hair Metal

I love just about every subgenre of rock music, from punk rock to pop rock to psychedelic. But there’s one genre that I find hard to love: hair metal. And I’m not the only one. The hard rockin’, hard partyin’ music that thrived in the 1980s may be perfect for belting out at your local dive bar or ballgame, but it’s been met with plenty of critical contempt. So as to not beat a dead horse, I thought I’d give it my best defense.

The Charges

1. What Happened To The Music, Man?: Image and spectacle have always been part of rock n’ roll. Think about the onstage antics of Little Richard and Elvis, or the offstage antics of The Who and Led Zeppelin, or the larger-than-life glamour of David Bowie and Prince. Here’s the difference: all the artists I mentioned here were INCREDIBLE musicians who used their image to reinforce their legendary status. For many hair metal bands, image was the endgame. These guys were more concerned with rockstar cosplay than crafting long-lasting tunes.

2. Oh, That’s What Happened To The Music, Man: To their credit, hair bands took inspiration from more than just the rockstar aesthetic. Hair metal took the gritty, authentic hard rock of the 1970s and both overperformed and over-polished it. The classic example: Eddie Van Halen, of hair metal predecessor Van Halen, was a virtuosic guitarist who pushed the boundaries of technical playing more than just about anyone since Hendrix. But once hair bands got their hands on Eddie’s bag of tricks, shred-style guitar became a lot less interesting. Eddie was an innovator; hair metal guitarists were just really good copycats.

3. The Power Ballad: Yeah, you’re not going to see a defense for this one. If the standard hair metal rock number was cheesy, the power ballad was drenched in Velveeta and dusted with parmesan. Power ballads drifted too far from hair bands’ strengths and exposed their lyrical shortcomings. Sorry, Bret Michaels, I just don’t want to hear you wax poetic about romance.

If you couldn’t tell by now, I’m NOT a fan of hair metal, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t any upsides to the genre.

The Defense

1. Hooks and Riffs, Baby: C’mon. You know you’ve belted out “Livin’ On A Prayer” at a karaoke bar at least once. Or maybe you’ve gotten amped up before the big game to the tune of “Kickstart My Heart.” I can criticize the aesthetic and overall quality of hair metal, but I can’t deny how successful many hair bands were at writing the “sticky” parts of songs. They perfected the art of the big chorus and the high-octane riff. And in moderation, hair metal songs can actually be pretty fun.

2. Genre-blending: I’ve written about this in reference to power pop, but my feelings apply to hair metal as well. Rock and pop are two of my favorite genres, and I’ve loved it almost every time they’ve met. Hair metal might not be my favorite iteration, but I can respect the combination of rock instrumentation and pop sensibilities. For the most part.

3. Grunge: I’m cheating a little here. Giving hair metal credit for inspiring another, better genre isn’t exactly a ringing endorsement. But rock n’ roll tends to alternate between these over-the-top and stripped-back eras, so you could argue that grunge needed hair metal to exist before it could come along. And if that’s not a good enough defense, I’ll toss out a compromise: Guns N’ Roses. Their music had a lot in common with their hair metal predecessors, but with the raw, gritty edge that defined grunge.

I’m never going to be the guy putting bands like Ratt and Def Leppard on heavy rotation. But every once in a while, hair metal just hits the spot. Sometimes you just wanna rock.

Lyle B.