How Soon is Now?
At what point do our evaluative filters give way to the comfortable embrace of familiarity? There is so much new music out there that we (and when I say "we," I really mean "I," but I say "we" so this won't look like complete navel gazing) may not have much time to absorb a new piece of music before we move on to something else. How much time do we give something before we relegate it to some category in our heads? Case in point, Snake River Conspiracy's Sonic Jihad record. I reviewed it for Earpollution back in 2000, and said that it had some promise but was hindered by associations which came to mind of things that it would never be. It was kind of a "feh, there it is" review, and I put the record on the shelf and moved on.
My wife discovers the disc at some point and starts listening to it. A LOT. I think there was a good month or two when this was the only thing she had in the car and, when I rode with her, I got to hear it over and over and over. Somewhere along the way, my ambivalence became acceptance which has now turned into a certain level of appreciation. I was putting together a new mix disc last night and popped SRC's cover of the Cure's "Lovesong" on there. I throw all the selected tracks together and listen to them a few times to get a sense of what order to put them in. So far the Snake River Conspiracy song is really standing out from the pack which means I've either picked a bunch of clunkers or SRC has become an old friend that is really welcome when it arrives.
When I write, I have to listen to music that is strongly familiar because, otherwise, I find myself listening to the music and not writing, or I find my writing being significantly influenced by the pace and content of what I'm hearing. I prefer records which I know well enough that they provide just sound and tempo to my writing environment and I hear them differently. I hear them as background noise, and these sorts of songs only impact you on a subliminal level -- they are emotional tints. But they are always solid, good colors which you like to have around you.
Okay, put it this way: you listen less, but hear more. Doesn't that make any sense? It's bugging me today because Snake River Conspiracy has somehow slipped into this comfort zone category. It's isn't because I sought the record out, but because I've heard it enough that it has -- by sheer persistence -- slipped over the wall and gotten into my warm space. The question then: is the relative worth of this record -- is it "good" or "crap" -- altered because my familiarity has engendered an understanding of depth or has it become respectable simply because it is a known entity?
And yes, I know they cover a Smiths' song. That and a Cure song and a Beatles song. And, in all honesty, they do a pretty good job of each of them.