 Hootie & the Blowfish I'm always skeptical of people who oppose things on the basis of popularity, because my big ol' populist heart wants the masses to be right every now and then. It's this populist streak that keeps me from being just another elitist music nerd passing along my "definitive" judgments. And I am a strong proponent of the "You like what you like" approach, wherein there is no such thing as a guilty pleasure – you just like what you like, and that's okay. God played a cruel prank on me, however, when he stuck me in a car for a road trip wherein the driver only had six CDs: The Eagles' Greatest Hits, Steve Miller's Greatest Hits, The Doobie Brothers' Greatest Hits, Sheryl Crow, Journeyman by Eric Clapton, and Cracked Rear View. Does that not sound like the ultimate hipster horror-story SAT question: "You're stuck in a car with only six CDs, all among the most generic and mainstream best-sellers possible … in what order do you listen to them to mimimize the pain?" The answer, as I so bitterly learned: any order, as long as you play one of the CDs twice and skip Cracked Rear View entirely. I gave it a shot. I really did. In fact, with the other discs, I found something to like in every case. But your High Fidelity-spewing record store friend is right: Cracked Rear View is without any merit whatsoever. You are a bad person if you like it. It sucks. Overblown singing, wretched lyrics, unengaging melodies, barely competent musicianship, slick production, beginner chord progressions. It sucks. It all sucks. So my theory that there is probably something good to say about Kenny G is suddenly out the window … I keep forgetting that these "masses" I romanticize so much are not sitting in homely country houses listening to Kenny Rogers. They're stuffing their fat bellies at Chilis™, getting into their Pathfinders™, and rocking out to Hootie™. Hipsters, will you have me back? I have done my penance.
Review by La Fée |
