Finally-the musical revolution that we have all been waiting for has occurred, right?
Not quite. Recent releases from Bruce Springsteen ("The Rising") and Bob Dylan ("Live 1975: The Rolling Thunder Revue") emerge from behind the shadows of the boy-bands to remind us what real singer-songwriters do: write important music. Sure, the new breed of songwriters have turned down the vocal reverb and have learned to play their own instruments, but someone must have forgotten to tell them that it takes more than an acoustic guitar and an agent to stake claim in a tradition pioneered by musicians such as Woody Guthrie and Leadbelly. Maybe John Mayer should spend less time trying to look like a singer-songwriter and more time on his profoundly sterile and generic lyrics.
I am not sure whether to watch the Grammy awards on Feb. 23, which I fear will reward many of these charlatan singer-songwriters. Norah Jones alone has been nominated for five awards, including the much-coveted "Record of the Year." She has, however, done no better than her pint-sized, teen-angst-espousing counterpart Avril Lavigne, also nominated for five awards. On her piano close behind them floats the one-lick wonder Vanessa Carleton, who reeled in three nominations for her cliché-driven tune "A Thousand Miles."
Now I by no means predict a Grammy sweep by any of these new artists. In fact, many awards will likely go to the omnipresent Eminem, nominated in nearly all major categories. Nelly will compete with him in many rap categories, and in R&B, Ashanti looks to garner several nods for her self-titled debut album. Furthermore, it is true that I would rather see many of these faces behind the podium come Feb. 23 than the vaguely incarnate pop stars who have sullied the integrity of this award show in recent years. Yet, I will not venerate these mediocre craftsmen when evocative music is still available in the far reaches of the market-indeed, there are even traces of it in the mainstream.
The brilliant, Philly-based, bluegrass/rock band Marah, who teamed up with Oasis producer Owen Morris to release their third album "Float Away With The Friday Night Gods," will be watching the Grammys from a hotel room later this month on their tour of the East Coast. And while the band's third album fails to evoke the same emotional response as their folk-rock second album, "Kids in Philly," which resonates like the Grateful Dead covering Springsteen's 1973 debut "Greetings from Asbury Park," it is a shame that such a talented band has to bare its heart at neighborhood bars while the ever-generic Sheryl Crow sells out arenas. Likewise, Wilco, whose neo-folk gem of an album, "Yankee Hotel Foxtrot," garnered accolade in RollingStone.com's year-end reader's poll, was overlooked by the Grammy committee. Like many other gifted bands, they too will look on as the Dixie Chicks and Nickelback take the stage.
In spite of it all, hope is not lost. Order and decency could be salvaged if the torch-bearing messiah of meaningful music reigns supreme on the 23rd. Bruce Springsteen, who recently celebrated his 30th year in the record industry, has earned five nominations for his first full record with the E-Street Band since 1984's "Born in the USA." "The Rising," released in early August, and its title track, have been nominated in many major categories, including Album of the Year, Best Rock Album, Song of the Year, Best Rock Song, and Best Male Rock Vocal Performance. Conscripting the aid of the renowned Pearl Jam producer, Brendan O'Brien, Springsteen has revamped his sound. Yet, the brooding, pensive lyricism that has always motivated his music remains. The only difference is that he now writes in the perilous wake of 9/11, an event that inevitably imposes itself on the writing of any social commentator. In fact, it seems that Springsteen has transmuted the sorrow of 9/11 into fuel for his rock voice, and in the process, birthed a masterpiece of an album that ranks high atop the pantheon of rock and popular music.
As Bruce Springsteen and Bob Dylan grow old, we can only pray that such an effort is duly rewarded and that young bands follow the example, for someone must carry the torch. And while I wouldn't put much stock in the young Grammy nominees this year, I withhold the faintest hope. In the voices of some grassroots musicians playing at small bars and colleges, if you listen closely enough, you can hear the muted whispers of Woody Guthrie-a beacon of light, even from his grave.