Feels like repetition

The image is still seared into my brain. February 2003. An uncomfortable-looking jazz pianist who didn't write the majority of her own material holding two armfuls of Grammy Awards which should have been divided up equally between Bruce Springsteen and Eminem. The pianist in question was none other than the daughter of the greatest sitar player in history, Ravi Shankar, without whom the Indian flourishes which graced late-period Beatles albums would not have existed. His daughter's name is Norah Jones, and I, for one, don't understand the phenomenon.\nWhen Norah Jones' debut, a six song EP now called First Sessions, came out in 2001, barely anyone noticed. It contained her future smash hits "Come Away With Me" and "Don't Know Why," but somehow it never caught on. The following year, her proper debut dropped, and still no one noticed. Then, as is always the case, some DJ at some radio station in some major city heard her, and began playing her on his station. Word spread, and suddenly a love for Jones' brand of lethargic, piano bar pop spread like wildfire.\nWhy am I hating on Ms. Jones, you ask? Is it because every single one of her 29 studio tracks make me feel like I've overdosed on NyQuil? Partly. Is it because her live performances seem better suited to the local Borders Bookshop than to Conseco Fieldhouse? Sort of. Is it because every time one of her songs shows up on the radio, I'm compelled to change the station? \nMaybe. But it's primarily due to the fact that I simply can't figure out what the big deal is with this woman, her semi-sultry voice and her modest collection of 200-second snoozer songs. To me, Norah is like the musical version of the sitcom "Friends." Millions unexplainedly adore her, she's alright as background noise, but there doesn't seem to be anything truly worthwhile going on there.\nAt the heart of my beef with Norah is her singular, never-changing sound. Her records seem pigeonholed in mediocrity, and her outstanding popularity further proves the American public's hunger for the mediocre. Watch the Peoples' Choice Awards for more proof of this. Sure, many bands and artists made it big while never straying from a tried and true formula. The Ramones, AC/DC and even Black Sabbath can be accused of this. The difference is those bands never ceased to be exciting, and each new record felt like another rush of blood to the head. Every time I hit the track-skip button on a Norah Jones album, the following song feels just like the one before. Banal, boring and uninspired. And don't even get me started on how Norah's only co-written seven of her songs so far.\nCome Away With Me has sold 18 million units and counting. Its mimeograph of a follow up, Feels Like Home, is closing in on the 2 million mark after only three weeks in release. So why the insatiable appetite for Norah Jones? \nMy theory is the majority of music fans in this nation are just looking for something agreeable and unchallenging. This trend can be seen in the world of film as well. Adam Sandler's "50 First Dates" banked more in its opening weekend than the far superior, and far brainier, Sandler film (well, it's more of a Paul Thomas Anderson film) "Punch-Drunk Love" cost to make AND made at the box-office combined. That is frightening. The majority have ceased the desire to be challenged and inspired by music, and are content to simply be lulled by it. Maybe that's not such a crime in this post-9/11, cell-phone, Hilary Duff, soy latte, "American Idol" nation. Not a crime, but certainly a disappointment.