I'm not focusing on major acts or big festivals. Rather, my attention is on the countless bars, patio spaces, and dumpy little joints where the majority of live music will happen. In particular, my attention is on the one genre which has come to define this time and these places: Douchebag Reggae.
It's difficult to define, so I've created a rubric to outline the intensity levels of the genre:
Level 1: Anyone who regards a Jack Johnson concert as a transformative experience in their life. Also, anyone who has ever said, 'Music is my religion.' This level is open to anyone, not just performers. It's about combining smugness with cheap spirituality.
Level 2: Bands whose only influence is Sublime. They may do a typical mix of covers and originals, but that's only because they can't do Santeria for 90 minutes.
Level 3: DJ's with hispanic last names, but otherwise, no connection to Latin America. They don't speak Spanish, or have any knowledge of Latin music. Nonetheless, they assume throwing some synth trumpets in the mix and referring to every woman in their life as 'mamacita' makes them the second coming of Tito Puente. Though not claiming any formal influence from Jamaica, they capture the spirit outlined in Level 1.
Level 4: Bands that perform the greatest hits of Dave Matthews set to the tune of 'Buffalo Soldier.'
Level 5: The Dave Matthews Band.
The genre blew up last summer when Magic! terrorized the airwaves with it's breakthrough (and probably final) hit 'Rude.' Though there have been other eruptions ('Who Let the Dogs Out?'), Douchebag Reggae typically lurks below the mainstream surface.
It is often experienced as a influence on other lame, Carribbean inspired works. I think of it as an attitude more than a rigid musical structure. Douchebag Reggae is the blood in Pitbull's veins though not the rhythm in his words. It's the voice in Katy Perry's head telling her she's 'street' if she references marijuana in her song.
This summer, do your part to stamp out Douchebag Reggae. Write and perform a 40-minute epic about the life of Freddie Green. Cross-dress and sing about Ridin' with Satan. Ignore music all together and hibernate until football season. But don't let Douchebag Reggae win. Otherwise it's a matter of time before we have another 'Rude' blight on our national conscience.
No comments:
Post a Comment