listen to the countdown, they're playing our song again

At the end of last year, my favorite radio station, Philadelphia's WXPN, interrupted their regular programming to present the "885 Greatest Songs of the 21st Century." Culled from an online poll of loyal listeners, the countdown (played back in reverse order) offered a wide variety of songs from a wide variety of artists. The content was comprised mostly of WXPN's so-called "core artists," the ones who receive regular play on the station and are beloved by listeners for their musical output, their longevity, and because WXPN says they are beloved or some combination of  the above. So, of course the countdown featured 18 songs by Radiohead (a band I do not care for), 11 songs by Hozier (a singer I am indifferent towards), 9 songs by Bruce Springsteen (a singer I am sick of hearing, especially his 21st century releases) and slew of non-descript singer/songwriters who — honestly — all seem to blend together. The countdown included 8 songs by Kendrick Lamar, rapper and recent Super Bowl halftime showman. WXPN rarely plays Kendrick Lamar in their day-to-day playlist. As a matter of fact, the station receives a number of complaints from its predominantly white, predominantly older audience when ever a rap artist interrupts their Dawes and The War on Drugs listening time. (Yes, WXPN is my favorite radio station. Imagine what I would say if it wasn't my favorite!)

People love to rank things. They love to make lists of pretty much everything in their lives in the order of how much they are loved. They love to tell other people how they have ranked things and try to convince those people to rank these things in the same order, often leading to heated arguments, insults and animosity. That's just human nature, I suppose. In 2020, I reiterated how much I dislike... no, make that hate countdowns. Countdowns and lists and rankings are based on opinions. And — boy! — do people have opinions. Opinions are meaningless in the big scheme of things. If you insist on things being ranked and rated, it should be based on measurable facts, not on how much you like or don't like something. Everyone has different likes and dislikes, yet people want everyone to share their opinion. And they get very, very defensive when their opinions are not shared. Very defensive.

Every year, the Oscars, the Emmys, The Grammys, the Tonys and countless other awards are given out based on the opinions of a specific group of people. Record sales, box office receipts and other factual, measurable criteria are tossed aside in favor of arbitrary opinions based on likability, personalities and politically motivated feeling. That's why Glenn Close or Alfred Hitchcock never received an Oscar. That's why Paul Newman was finally given an Oscar for a 1987 performance in a less-than-stellar sequel to the movie for which he should have won an Oscar. Paul Newman skipped that Oscar ceremony in 1987, later stating: "It's like chasing a beautiful woman for 80 years." Paul knew bullshit when he saw it. 

The same goes for various Halls of Fame. The Baseball Hall of Fame is chock full of statistics, but, when it comes to selection for induction into the coveted Hall, players are chosen based on the opinions of a committee. They know what statistics are and what they represent, yet they choose to ignore statistics when it really counts. Induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame has been a "bone in the throat" for a lot of die-hard rock and roll fans. Each year, when nominees are announced (by the same opiniated group that will eventually vote on who gets in), tempers flare and voices raise in protest. "Why hasn't (insert your favorite snubbed rock & roller here) gotten in?" is the frequent gripe. The word "deserves" is brought up a lot, mostly by people who don't fully understand what "deserves" means. Non-rock and rollers like Dolly Parton have been given the honor of induction, while Bad Company, Boston, Warren Zevon and Iron Maiden look on from the sidelines. Again, record sales, concert receipts and radio (and now streaming) airplay are not considered for induction. Only opinion. According to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame's website, "the Nominating Committee's selections are based on a number of criteria, including the impact and influence of the artist on music history, as well as their popularity, longevity, and musical innovations." That just another, more complicated way of saying "opinion."

So, because I do not like countdowns and I do not subscribe to the importance that is placed on countdowns and ratings and rankings, I avoided the "885 Greatest Songs of the 21st Century." I listened to the radio before the countdown began, but I was already at my desk at work by the time it started and each subsequent day when it picked up where it left off the previous day. I avoided it for its entire ten day (or so) run. When it was all over, I casually glanced at the results that were posted on the WXPN website — just out of curiosity.

And there was a glaring omission.

Sparks 21st Century albums

The parameters for inclusion in this countdown was songs released between January 1, 2000 and right up until the day the countdown voting closed. That encompasses 25 years. The list of 885 songs was totally devoid of a single entry by Ron and Russel Mael, the brothers who have been performing for the past 54 years (in one capacity or another) under the name Sparks. Since their debut in 1971, Sparks has flown just under the mainstream radar of the music industry. As a band, they are hard to define. They have dabbled in many musical genres including pop, rock, new wave, dance and electronica. Along the way, they have poked playful fun at they genres they so expertly mimicked. Although their humor is quite prevalent in their songs, they are not a novelty act, like Weird Al Yankovic (who, by the way, has five Grammys). Sparks are a legitimate band. Yes, they have popped their heads up here and there, scoring with a few minor hits in the 80s, but mostly they are one of the cultiest of cult bands. They get very little airplay despite their musical output of 41 albums (including 2 soundtrack albums, a live album and 12 compilation albums) and 79 singles. They have appeared and performed on network television (including briefly on an episode of Gilmore Girls). They were featured in the 1977 thriller Rollercoaster and more recently, they were the subject of and acclaimed documentary by edgy filmmaker Edgar Wright.

Sparks met the criteria for inclusion in the "885 Greatest Songs of the 21st Century." Beginning in 2000, Sparks released 11 albums. Eleven! including the two soundtracks and a collaboration with Scottish band Franz Ferdinand (whose "Take Me Out" ranked at Number 93 according to someone's opinion). Within the past 25 years, several Sparks songs were played on WXPN for a brief period of time, mostly just after a new album release or when the documentary came out. After that, the new Sparks songs disappeared from the airwaves and 1983's "Cool Places" would pop up on the station's 80's themed specialty show.

However, not a single Sparks song made it to the "885 Greatest Songs of the 21st Century." Not a one. The alt-metal band Incubus had a song come in at Number 859. Pop punkers Jimmy Eat World were included at Number 689. Even Taylor Swift took the 133 spot with "Shake It Off" — a song that is rarely if ever played on WXPN. But no Sparks.

Is the  "885 Greatest Songs of the 21st Century" really an accurate assessment of the "885 Greatest Songs of the 21st Century?" Before you answer, understand that it's just your opinion.

www.joshpincusiscrying.com

Footnote: I went an entire post about music without a single shot at Ringo or The Dave Matthews Band.

the final countdown

My favorite radio station just wrapped up a week-long countdown of the two thousand and twenty "greatest songs of all time." A few months prior to beginning the playback, they solicited listeners to compile a list of their ten greatest songs of all time. These lists were then tallied and calculated and counted and sorted. On December 10 at 8 AM, they played "Time is Tight," a 1969 release by instrumental funk band Booker T & The MGs. This song, ranking at Number 2020, kicked off a non-sequitur musical marathon that would — over the course of eight days — span decades, artists and genres. The countdown promised (or threatened) to continue non-stop — burgeoning on 24 hours a day — until the Number One song was revealed. Social media immediately lit up as, in the first 24 hours, the station defiantly — and consecutively — played "I Keep Forgettin'" by Michael McDonald, "Just Like Honey" by The Jesus and Mary Chain, "Louisiana 1927" by Randy Newman, "The Breaks" by Kurtis Blow and "Open My Eyes" by Nazz. This made for one of the early examples of unusual and awkward segues. As the on-air hosts divulged each song (in reverse order), Twitter was a-twitter with hash-tagged conversations, proclamations and overtly possessive browbeating. With each new song disclosure, a new volley of discussion would erupt, fraught with more speculation, contempt and even a bit of bullying. And this is how things played out until the single digits were reached.

I planned to steer clear of the countdown and, to be honest, I only heard approximately sixty or so minutes of it and that didn't come until Day Five. It was on the radio in my wife's car as we took a ride to my son's house to deliver some cookies that she made. We talked during the drive, so I really wasn't paying close attention to the songs. I heard approximately 26 songs in the time it took to drive to his house and then return home. When each song began, I asked the same question: "Is this the 'Greatest Song of All Time?'" I asked the question — out loud — 26 times... until Mrs. Pincus (rightfully) told me to shut up. On the final day, I blew off my planned "avoidance" and I sat with my wife on our sofa as we listened to the last 100 songs play back through our stereo. To add to the fun, we participated in the social media fervor that accompanied the countdown. It was sort of a running commentary, like those second audio tracks on DVDs that nobody listens to. Because I am who I am, my tweets were dripping with sarcasm and faux ignorance (in keeping with my online persona). I tweet strictly for my own amusement and, sometimes, I find the results funnier if the folks on the receiving end don't know me and take everything I say to heart. I was careful to include a healthy dose of my "disdain" for Ringo Starr, as well as a "put on" misunderstanding of particular artists. (For instance, I expressed my love of jazz great Dave Brubek when his classic "Take Five" checked in at the Number 54 position. However, I punctuated my tweet with a photo of David Ruprecht, the host of the 90s game show Supermarket Sweep. I got the joke and that was all that was important.)

I love music. I hate countdowns. I did not compile nor submit a list for inclusion in the countdown. I hate ranking anything — movies, television shows, foods — anything. I don't care to hear other people's lists and I especially don't need to hear two thousand and twenty songs in reverse order of greatness. It's all opinion. There is no definitive answer. There are no bad choices. There are no good choices. It all means absolutely nothing. Months and years from now, when this countdown is a mere memory, will it make any bit difference that "Day Tripper" by The Beatles ranks as the 1,164th Greatest Song of All Time the next time they play it? 

I like what I like. I don't like what I don't like. The specifics of those things, of course, will differ from person to person. But people seem to get really possessive and defensive about the songs they like and the songs other people like. People want other people to like the same songs they like. I don't know why? I don't understand the insecurity that surfaces when someone says they don't like a song or band that you like. It appears, though, that my generation insists on keeping the flame burning for the music of their formative years. This phenomenon doesn't seem to exist in the generations that followed. The Top 25 songs, as "determined" by the Countdown results, were an embarrassing reflection of my contemporaries, boasting primarily white guys with guitars... with just a few exceptions. People my age, in 2020, are still hanging onto their beloved "Layla" and "Stairway to Heaven." I could just picture graying men with bad backs struggling to pump their fists in the air as the opening chords of Bruce Springsteen's "Jungleland" emanated from the smart speaker that their grandson set up for them.

Sure, I like to hear the music I grew up with. I also like to hear the music my parents grew up with and the music my son grew up with. It makes for a much more enjoyable variety of soundtrack to my life. I don't try to "school" anybody. I will not make a convincing argument to persuade someone half my age that Elton John, in his heyday, could run musical circles around Taylor Swift. That's just stupid. Elton John was a talented singer and songwriter and Taylor Swift is a talented singer and songwriter. And what difference does it make if you or I feel otherwise. There's no need to take music so seriously. It's supposed to make you feel good. Let it. And let different music make someone else feel good.

So after eight days and nights, the 2020 "Greatest Songs of All Time" came to a close. And this is what I learned:

1. People my age like to vote in countdowns

2. People my age don't seem to be aware of any music that was released after 1977

3. People my age really need to lighten up

4. I still know the words to all twenty-three minutes of Genesis's "Supper's Ready"

And we will never know what is truly "The Greatest Song of All Time."

www.joshpincusiscrying.com