Frank Kogan's forthcoming "Real Punks Don't Wear Black"

I've been spending a lot of time lately with Frank Kogan's Real Punks Don't Wear Black, probably the best non-Lester Bangs collected-music-writing book I've ever read, even if he does include all these long-ass unreadable screeds he wrote when he was like twelve. Probably my favorite idea within the book is the Superword, which Kogan describes a lot better than I could:

"A Superword is a word like 'punk,' which is, among other things, a battleground, a weapon, a red cape, a prize, a flag in a bloody game of Capture the Flag. To put this in the abstract, a Superword is a word or phrase that not only is used in flights but that is itself fought over. The fight is over who gets to wear the word proudly, who gets the word affixed to himself against his will, etc. So the use is fought over, and this - the fight over usage - is a big part of the word's use."

That's about the simplest Kogan ever puts it, and he devotes pages and pages to this thing. His favorite example is "punk," but virtually every genre of music becomes a Superword at some point or another; people start fighting over what exactly it is and what can and can't claim that status. My favorite Superword is a term I try to never use: hip-hop.

[Then a whole bunch of stuff about Christina Aguilera and Premier and the fight over "real hip-hop."]

So, anyway, what do you guys think of the concept Superword? We talked about it a whole lot on the Key to deconstructing C Eddy / S Reynolds thread, if you want to know more. I pulled whole hunks of stuff bodily from that thread and put them in my Superwords chapter, including long quotes from Sterling, Tom E., and Tracer. Here's how I elaborated on that concept in the thread:

A Superword is a controversy word, but not all controversy words are Superwords; for what makes a Superword really super is that some people use the word so that it will jettison adherents and go skipping on ahead of any possible embodiment. Like, no one and nothing is good enough to bear the word "punk," and I wouldn't join a band that would have someone like me as a member anyway. (Supposedly, in the late '80s I once claimed that Michael Jackson and Axl Rose were the only two punks going at the time.) "Rock," "pop," "punk," and many other genre names sometimes act as Superwords. So "punk" (for instance) can be an ideal, and every single song that aspires to be punk can fall short in someone's ears. But for the word to be super, not only must people disagree on the ideal, but some people must consciously or unconsciously keep changing what the word or ideal is supposed to designate so that the music is always inadequate to the ideal, even if the music would have been adequate to yesterday's version of the ideal. And the music then chases after this ever-changing ideal. Words bounce on ahead, and the music comes tumbling after.

I once pitched the idea of an article entitled "Antirockism Is for Teacher's Pets." The title of course would be to get the attention of the antirockists and to dent their self-image, and I think the designation "teacher's pet" is psychologically and socially acute as well; but underlying the piece would be my assumption that the pets - who are people I sympathize with, basically - are trying to tell their own truth and that they probably have an interesting truth to tell, if they can find their way to it and not settle for comforting half-truths. The dynamic in antirockism is that the antirockist has put defeating people ahead of trying to understand them, so the antirockist projects his own ideas onto supposed "rockists" but in really stupid form, so he gains an easy victory over an imaginary foe.

A friend of mine, old enough to know better, once explained his dislike of the Backstreet Boys by complaining that the Backstree Boys don't even write their own songs. The thing is, my friend doesn't know why he dislikes the Backstreet Boys. "They don't write their own songs" is a placeholder, an "explanation" that gives him the excuse not to probe himself for the real reasons. Now, if we call this guy a "rockist," this means we aren't interested in why he dislikes the Backstreet Boys either.

But if my piece says no more than this, it hasn't accomplished much. The goal is to bring the antirockist back to the impulses, experiences, battles, and nascent ideas that were bubbling in and around him before he stepped sideways into the fake discussion about "rockism." In other words, I want the antirockist to reflect on who he is, what social groups he belongs to, what his gang affiliations are, and what the relationship is between his opinions and his social commitments. And even more, I want to ask what the world is that produces this guy - it's usually a guy - and that produces these opinions, this whole discussion.

If I had to I could come up with a pretty accurate description of something called "rockism": basically, a bunch of loosely related - and really irritating - habits and justifications for saying why what you like is more real than what someone else likes. But the reason I can't put myself at odds with the supposed "rockist" is that I don't think there's anything wrong in principle with saying something's more real than something else - I'm willing to call myself a real thinker, and say that person X is not a real thinker - and when you come down to it, I have exactly the same impulses the supposed "rockist" does in regard to "authenticity," even if I take my impulses to more interesting places. To explain it briefly: the "authenticity" issue is about one's relationship to authority and to social pressure. The Hero Story it draws on has the Performer in defiance of Authority. It isn't about who writes the song but about who seems to be groveling in front of whom and where one's own fandom puts one in relation to authority. The reason there's so much obfuscation in the discussion of "rockism" is that there's no way not to buy into the Hero Story, but there's no way to tell the story honestly without connecting yourself to the groveling. (Well, that's vague enough. I don't think I can explain my argument briefly. But my book explains it well enough and without resorting to the buzz word "rockism.")

The supposed problem with the Backstreet Boys isn't that they're not singing their own song but that they're singing the record company's and the audience's song. But then we have to pretend that the person singing to us isn't singing our song. But how is it possible not to sing the audience's song?

As much as I have discussed rockism/anti-rockism as much as anyone over the last six years or so, the debate is an irritating one because it always ends up returning to the same banal dead ends. Most of the really interesting brain gruntwork done on this topic has been that which perhaps inadvertently moves beyond the opposition, which struggles to go back and tenuously redefine itself as working in service of the cause of one side or the other... and perhaps therefore should just stop worrying and try to attach itself to - or better, create from scratch - a different kind of critical language.

I think Mitch once said that my relationship to Britney as a performer (specifically vis a vis "Born To Make You Happy") was post-rockist, and I wonder if (though he will likely disagree with me on this) Frank's critical appraisal of Ashlee Simpson is not similar. Which is to say that the relationship values a notion of authenticity which is not about external empirical validation but personal identification (Hero Story stuff, in Frank language). The issue is not whether we believe in and value a notion of "realness", but how honest we are about our differing notions of realness.

I still think it's worth thinking about the way that music fandom - and especially music criticism - functions by way of analogical imposition (in so far as we talk about different artists and different types of music and different impulses and logics within music by way of comparison to others) and how this serves to both define and limit the possibilities of what we can think about music. But the rockist/anti-rockist dichotomy can usually only approach this in an overly dramatised [x] or [y] manner.

Relevant here perhaps is the tension b/w the injunction to "value artists/styles on their own terms" (immanent judgment) versus intermingling these terms and using different artist/genre criteria to throw a different light on the music in question (as chuck might say, why shouldn't I ask whether this rock song is good or bad disco?).

I was thinking yesterday that it's a bit like those superhero universe-crossovers - Batman vs Superman, or Aliens vs Predator. "Would Batman best Superman in a fight?" Should we complain that it's unfair to pit Batman against Superman because Batman isn't actually superhuman and the whole point of the Batman universe is that of an ordinary man using skill, strategy and technology to punch above his weight? Or does this only serve to close down our thinking about what the "whole point" of Batman might be?

Actually (because I've mentioned her here before) Christgau is interesting on Ani DiFranco w/r/t this - here he's talking about a discussion he had with some teenage girls who like Ani:

"This is linguistic craft as a means to character--DiFranco's character. Pointing out that "When Doves Cry" (a formerly ritual show-closer that kicked out the jams at Roseland) is DiFranco's only cover, my otherwise sophisticated panel insisted on autobiographical verisimilitude: all right, maybe "Letter to a John" wasn't true, they didn't think she'd ever lap-danced, but if it came out that, for example, Ani-the-person wasn't really bisexual, it would be like Milli Vanilli or something. And they're right to care. Aesthetes are free to believe she's merely constructed this headstrong, mercurial, sensual, edgy, alert, pissed off, affectionate, waggish, empowered, needy, indomitable, fierce, leftwing, hyperemotional, supercompetent persona. But self-expression goes into it too, and you have to wonder whether she can keep it up."

Sorry that's probably all irrelevant, but I find this whole general topic totally fascinating.

I don't think that's necessarily so. I agree with the general premise - it's nice when people genuinely seek answers, don't merely make accusations and rely on buzzwords, etc. But your post seems to be telling me, "Don't use this word. It's a Stupor Word for teacher's pets."

If there is indeed a rockist perspective, then yes, you can talk about it and analyze the reasons behind it, but you still need a word to identify it. Not sure what's wrong with using the word "rockism" for this purpose (unless it's just too vague or something).

>"Rockism" is a stupor word for sure. The reason is that no one aspires to rockism, hence no one's trying to up the ante and make rockism better than anyone can be. <

Not sure I follow this. Do you mean this in the sense of saying that no one aspires to sexism or racism either? (And if so what does that have to do with the value of the word?)

btw, love your baseball analogy james - obv. in that scenario ILM would be Fire Joe Morgan.

I agree with this entirely, I think. I guess Frank's ideal is that we start a conversation with this guy which leaves him having a better idea of why he dislikes the Backstreet Boys, us having a better idea of why he dislikes the Backstreet Boys, and maybe also us having an idea of why we were tempted to call him a rockist. This is a great idea of what criticism could be or even ought to be, although it makes Frank, as he admits, someone in search of an ideal, and possibly a lonely guy, given that so much writing and reading about music is going to be as much a form of defence -- rather than an opening to a conversation -- as this guy's reason for disliking Backstreet Boys are.

I think in Paul Morley's hands, say, anti-rockism is totally a defence (i.e. off himself from difficult questions), but his excuse might be that he is trying to provoke rather than understand. This can be ok in places but without trying to understand as well it turns into a cliche, and then becomes a bore. At the end of Rip It Up Simon Reynolds tries to map the whole field in terms of his rockism vs. Morley's popism, but in doing so he squeezes out any room for what Frank -- and others -- want to do, i.e. ask about what's real but without having fixed criteria (i.e. social relevance or some version of it, which seems to be SR's). If social relevance means anything it must mean relevance to real people, not some abstract historical machine (these trends are progressive, these are not).

But the reason I can't put myself at odds with the supposed "rockist" is that I don't think there's anything wrong in principle with saying something's more real than something else I think what I like most about Frank's book (today, I like something different about it best whenever I think about it) is this insistence on making these kind of judgements -- as well as analysing why and how these are being made.

I think these things are important, and the trouble I have with the idea of poptimism is that it often seems to tend away from the personal and individual investments people make in music which seems real to them towards looking at big abstract collective machines (i.e. what's in the charts) and I think in doing so betrays a kind of nostalgia for the type of broad-brush socio-historical criticism which ties hit records to the mood of the nation or whatever, as if we could say something about an era on the basis of a couple of bands.

Of course this means facing up to my blindspot -- why in hell do people 'really' like post-Coldplay adult-oriented misery rock (keane, editors, snow patrol)? (I can at least see why young kids would follow Pete Doherty around, even if I think they're wrong.) The anti-rockist line is effectively to accuse them of some kind of false-consciousness -- either: they don't really like it, they only think they do; or, they like it, but for the wrong reasons. Both of which are just really bad arguments!

I don't have any issues with (or, ultimately, any deep interest in) what some average person [x] thinks about a piece of music because I'm not being subjected to their opinion on the matter - so the idea of caring whether this person really enjoys Coldplay or whatever seems a bit foreign to me. On the other hand, if I think that average music critic [x] has talked about an artist or song in a manner that is hackish and doesn't reflect anything interesting or real about their appreciation of the music, that's gonna annoy me.

I think this is bcz it's never applied universally as a principle--only used as an attack on a certain type of performer. Yesterday someone in my office said it in regards to Take That but they like all the Motown that comes on the radio (and it's ironic bcz Take That could write their own stuff.) But it doesn't really bother me when someone I work with says stuff like this--it fucking infuriates me when I have to read someone saying it in The Guardian or Q or NME or where-ever though.

Brief aside about assumptions: I was in a record shop and a couple, not trendy but not untrendy either, spotted the CD single of the song "Hero" from the Spiderman movie. Oh I love that said one. It's really emotional said the other. I was gonna chime in with a snarky comment of my own but then realised that they weren't being ironic or sneery. I felt a bit of a prick, even though it is a shit song.

but you may not be wrong: try again

that's better enrique

(it's not the position that is at issue)

(having said that, the criticism still seems odd: assuming that in another world the Backstreet Boys wrote e.g. "Shape Of My Heart", is it possible that the listener who doesn't like the song in this world would think that they had lived it? I assume not, if the criticism is based on the lack of "soul" rather than a generalised objection to performing material written by others. So maybe the better statement from the hater's position is: this song in its present form is so soulless it couldn't possibly have been written by the performer. It would be interesting though to know if this lack of soul was something quite distinct from the lack of soul the hater might discern in a pop song - say, one by Gary Barlow - which was written by its performer but the listener also finds loathsome)

Maybe we're learning that the real guilty pleasure in 2006 is gluttony.

Two quick thoughts:

1) In an era (in America) where there's already been rumblings about 'fat being the new tobacco' (check the recent story about Disney pulling out of Happy Meal promotions with McDonald's as a current sign), this is a v. interesting conceit for him to use.

2) There's a difference (which I've no question Jody recognizes) between 'OMG everything is here and I must have it all NOW!' and 'OMG everything is here!...and the buffet's always open so I'll take it easy and indulge as I do'

I suspect that for most people who dislike the backstreet boys' songs, it would be irrelevant to their dislike to find this out - "who cares if they write their own songs when the result still sounds manufactured or soulless?"

one of the reasons why i like pop more then i like the others is a notion of acceptance of transence, or ephemability or something that surrounds two albums, and a greatest hits comp and yr out of there.

jagger and dylan keep playing to the critics, textually and muscially, with 8 minute epics and historic referents (ie the Master and Margerita or St Augustine) while ashlee and britney keep playing to the crowd, their referents being to hunger and appettites that can be handled in a few minutes, aches and pains that come and go, not tidally, but like a magpie...

madonna is the one that is really interesting here, b/c she lasted almost three decades as someone who kept reinventing, kept being brilliant, kept getting passed two albums, her comp was the beginning of being interesting, and when she tries to be serious (ie american life) she fails--that is why hung up is such an intense and brilliant single, because it is a diamond to abbas coal... (possible exception: papa dont preach)

its also i think why (aside from the mutablity of sex and gender) why franks beloved ny dolls are pop, and why the sex pistols were a boy band, (the presence of an impresiario, the belief in short things done well, the lack of a long term career)--the difference is of course that they were cas in the self destructive mod of rock and roll--that weas thej disservice, forgetting mclaren---its also why bow wow wow is more important and in the end more realvent then the sec pistols now (other possible reasons: post colonialism, the belief in home taping, the seductive use of 15 yr olds,etc)

as for superwords, i think that they float, and the intangiblity, ubiquity, and epehermal presence of popular culture means that writing about it tends towards being so much about time and place, so explicitly away from something harder, which is why using the formal muscalogical terms (ie "the minor fall and the major lift") fails in pop...

i keep thinking about race in this mix, mostly b/c i am in the middle of a long essay about the mag fields and dont havea strict handle about whay i am going to write about them, and because of the recent taste vs race, queer vs black, ironic high camp vs authentic low seriousness, miscommuniation/clusterfuck that is going on with him, (ie sf/j, the slate article, jessa hood, simon renoylds, aunt b, etc)

is queer a superword, are white, black, gender, woman, artist, teen...is merritt adroitly abusing the idenifying superwords or does he just hate hip-hop?

and how does zippie do dah work as a pop song?

Most of these debates are issues of style propped up w/ inappropriate appeals to grandiose concepts (e.g. authenticity, populism). I like Slayer, Joanna Newsom, Boogie Down Productions. I don't like Steely Dan, Ashlee Simpson, Eminem. What does that mean? Critical frameworks are often dashed against what actually occurs in music listeners' lives.

Superword just sounds like a manufactured buzzword - what is it bringing to the table that the word "genre" isn't? Most of the issues brought up w/r/t the superword concept seem to be issues of genre, a problematic construct in and of itself (e.g. ye olde "is there such a thing as a genre" debate). Is there a superword that isn't a genre?