Yes, We Can?

Whereas television made our leaders those who are viewed with the most aesthetically pleasing qualities, the Internet has turned on younger generations with the clickable power of rhetoric.
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In 1976, Bob Marley released Rastaman Vibration, which included what has become of his most memorable songs, "War." In it he took the text of Ethiopian king Haile Selassie's 1963 UN Conference speech and set it to music. The song (like the speech itself), while geared toward the liberation and uprising of Africans who had been colonized by European forces for nearly a century (and enslaved for many more), featured universal sentiments about social and political freedom. Notions such as "lasting peace," "world citizenship" and "international morality" were entwined with reminders about the social and political stability of Mozambique and Angola, making the universal and the particular inseparable. Such was Marley's legacy, turning political empowerment into sonic sorcery. His music was truly an agent of change, as the man behind the sound involved himself heavily in the plight of his peers.

Outside of the importance of content is the music itself -- "War" is a damn good song: hard horn stabs, lax and precise hi hat behind a pounding bass drum, the easy swagger of Nesta's skanking guitar. And of course, that undeniable and irreplaceable growl. Marley knew that the message and the medium were one and the same; he could not, as politically motivated songs have the knack of doing, compromise the musicality for the meaning. He knew that the musicality is the meaning, and to reach the hearts and minds of his audience, musical integrity was the primary concern.

Perhaps we cannot expect so much of musicians -- Bob Marley was, in so many ways, unique unto himself. And yet when listening to the Barack Obama-inspired speech/song, "Yes We Can," I can only shake my head at what is, from a musical standpoint, a blatant attempt of reaching the lowest common denominator. Such "superstar" cause songs are not new, and in this number's glossy strains and overly impassioned vocals one is reminded of "We Are the World," a record which exposed America to the famine trouble in Ethiopia -- the same land Selassie once ruled over -- while playing for the widest possible audience via radio waves and MTV.

In itself, popular music is indefinable. It has recognizable traits, and relies on certain formulas, though just exactly what "pop" means is rather elusive. When considering it, I always reflect back on what bass player Bill Laswell told me a few years ago: the four-minute song is not music, but a business idea. Of course, this does not apply to every four-minute piece of music; "War" clocked in at 3:37, for one. But the 4:30 "Yes We Can," produced by Black Eyed Peas member will.i.am, certainly falls into that category. While it may be argued that it is a political, and not business, idea, I cannot see the difference between the two.

From California underground hip-hop aesthetic complete with breakdancing, b-boying and seriously credible music to the incessant cogs of a marketing machine, no greater example of the gentrification of the rap village exists than the Black Eyed Peas. They used to be real deal; now they pretend it by becoming cartoon caricatures of themselves to sell faux-chocolate Snickers bars as sweet and lifeless as their music. And while will.i.am has produced some credible tracks and offered nice guest spots on recent albums, he is anything but unpredictable -- as "Yes We Can" demonstrates. As media critic Neil Postman wrote in 1985, "In America, the least amusing people are its professional entertainers."

I often wonder what Postman would think of the Internet's global dissemination, and the role it has played in the current election. The biggest flaw of his otherwise poignant book, Amusing Ourselves to Death, was his lack of foresight regarding computers, an instrument he considered destined to be secondary to the overwhelming broadcasting power of television. Then again, it would have been difficult to guess that computers would become our televisions just 20 years ago. One of the major points of his work -- that political philosophy cannot be discussed on television, because the form works against the content -- remains desperately important in this current election, though little championed. That News Corp-owned MySpace should be one of the major destination points for the highest political office in the United States is proof enough.

Whereas television completely changed how we view our leaders and, in turn, made our leaders those who are viewed with the most aesthetically pleasing qualities, the Internet has turned on younger generations with the clickable power of rhetoric. We feel empowered because we can blog about our political woes; whether or not that means we're actually doing anything about the situation is an entirely different story. In its defense, more people are voting in our country than previously, in large part thanks to this technology. That cannot be argued. We just have to wonder if we're voting for the candidate with the greatest capability to lead, or the flashiest website and number of MySpace friends. The content of political speeches, appealing to the widest possible audience without actually invoking any actual change, is reflected in our mainstream arts, and vice-versa: they are easy to digest and do not require much thought. Yes, they are.

You can't blame Barack -- he had nothing to do with the video, and on the bright side, the fact that over 10 million YouTube viewers have witnessed it is certainly an indication of the way our relationship to our government has changed. Just like Jesus was given an unforgettable American veneer with Walter Sallman's "Head of Christ," Barack has a slickly produced and melodically infectious theme song that now relates content to form. For me, though, I have to stick with another Barack-inspired track: Extra Golden's eight-minute Kenyan/American rock fusion, "Obama." Comprised of members from Kenya alongside Washington, D.C.-based band Golden, the senator helped two band mates attain touring visas a few years back. In honor, they wrote a beautiful, guitar-driven African dance song that was released on their latest album, Hera Ma Nono.

From a radio standpoint, the band made two major mistakes. First, it's not sung in English. That immediately discredits it from possible airplay. Everyone knows the riskiest you can be is having Shakira sing four bars of a hip-hop song. Second, eight minutes is two songs to the American attention span. Never mind that it is passionate, heartfelt and honest. This is major media we're talking about! At best, it will be considered novelty, like a vaquero hat or Hawaiian shirt. The form of this sort of music does not befit the content of our media.

I have to wonder: Is this the best we can expect of our entertainers, ones that talk about global impact while they really mean "Hey world, check out our music and be like us?" Has the bar sunk this low, to a point where the melting pot becomes a cauldron for liquefying the integrity of foreign influence in an Americana stew? Is the lowest common musical denominator really three chords and an unforgettable hook? Is the same for politicians talking about change without actually initiating any? Truth be told, I have faith in Barack -- at least more faith in him than the other jokers trying to shove their way to the center of the stage. But rhetoric is rhetoric, whether or not there is music behind it. I want to hear specifics, not idealizations. I want the experience of life, not the possibility of it.

I readily admit, "Yes We Can" is heads above the ungodly Hillary theme song, and has inspired the very humorous "No We Can't" anti-McCain smear. Yet whenever I hear it, I can't help thinking about Postman's observations regarding the prophecies of George Orwell and Aldous Huxley, from his Foreword: "Orwell feared those who would deprive us of information. Huxley feared those who would give us so much that we would be reduced to passivity and egoism. Orwell feared the truth would be concealed from us. Huxley feared the truth would be drowned in a sea of irrelevance ... In short, Orwell feared that what we hate will ruin us. Huxley feared that what we love will ruin us." Change implies that our artists, like our politicians, quit playing to the happiness of whatever audience they happen to be in front of, and create something that is capable of appeasing a global audience, as that is the point of history we have now entered. Is that a possibility at this point in the game? Well, I hope they can.

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