The problem of Indie rock

I believe, when statesmen forsake their own private conscience for the sake of their public duties … they lead their country by a short route to chaos." Act one, scene two of "A Man for All Seasons" -- not only a timely quotation depicting the precarious balance of public office and private morality, but a wonderful summation of my case against Indie rock which I have come to fear as a hollow and destructive musical designation.\nWhy attack a genre of rock music, a harmless and inoffensive thing? Well, A: it's summer and I don't have a lot to do, but more importantly and less embarrassingly, B: I see Indie rock and all its baggage as a threat to the fun capacity of my beloved rock 'n' roll. \nNow, before we get into "Why?," let's pause a sec to appreciate rock 'n' roll's brilliance. Rock music is not an art -- that is to say it does not have to -- to be awesome. Some of rock's greatest achievements were made by people who couldn't grasp the rudiments of music theory, social interaction, money management, hygiene, speech, not doing heroin, etc. I'm not saying true artists must be smart or well-bathed, I'm only saying that great rock is usually really dumb, dirty and loud unlike most other mediums of fine art where its masterpieces are graceful and refined (you know, sculpture, paintings, architecture, ballet …).\nIs that dissing rock music? Oh, do check yourself -- I would never. Rock's unstoppable amateurism is exactly what I love about it. OK, let's stop with the fancy words for a second. Rock is not always fine art, but sometimes it uses the simple tools of pop music so efficiently that it can be, as in the case of any Beatles record, Pet Sounds, many James Brown cuts, some Bob Dylan, Nina Simone's "Wild is the Wind" and anything that moves you as much as "Starry Night" can move someone. Usually, though, rock is just dumb and great. Main offenders: Buddy Holly, Ramones, Andrew W.K., Elvis, Chuck Berry and so on. \nSo, just what does the term "Indie rock" mean? It is not, as I once believed, rock geographically situated near Monument Circle. That is Indy rock. Indie rock (like independent cinema) used to be a mere designation of a group's financial independence from corporate funding. Now, (again, like independent cinema) it's become a self-important aesthetic to which some artists aspire believing the designation alone will result in worth, and that courting the mainstream isn't "art." \nHere, Thomas Moore would fault them for abandoning their conscience and (ironically) conceding to popular demand. Rock was not meant to be taken seriously. Rock's greatest, purest moments -- "Louie, Louie," "Satisfaction," "Smells Like Teen Spirit" and, really, any song from the golden era in the '50s -- are all quick, stupid fun. \nThe best rock documents a generation's "fun needs," which is a highly sophisticated sociological concept I just invented. The '50s needed short bursts of relief, the '60s needed volume and innovation, the '70s needed bombast, the '80s needed New Wave, the '90s needed Grunge, and the '00s need anything, anything at all.\nThe phases of Indie rock, on the other hand, can be successfully documented by the evolution of Winona Ryder's hairdo. Bands who willfully identify themselves as "Indie" risk strangling popular music with rules, countless sub-genres and the perceived existence of bad taste. For their part, I will say this baggage is often heaped on by fans and critics who listen exclusively to Indie rock and will never truly know the joy of Def Leppard's Pyromania. \nFor a shamelessly perfect example of this, I cite pitchforkmedia.com's 0.6 out of 10 review for Andrew W.K.'s first album: "I Get Wet is an insidious beast, planting itself into the deepest instinctual recesses of your brainstem, where it instantly detonates into a visceral adrenal charge. There is suddenly no respect for proper behavior, just the urge to turn acrobatic flips and smash everything within a fifty-foot radius." Somehow, that was supposed to be an insult rather than a perfect definition of rock music. The reviewer goes on to say the record is unworthy of "any self-respecting rock elitist." Someone tell this nerd elitism is for wine tasters. \n"But Greg, you like Indie rock." Yes. Good music is good music. I totally admit I fawn over such Indie luminaries as the Pixies or, well, you're in college, you know about Indie rock bands. But here is what makes me such a shining example of grace: I will never ever dis a person for loving pop music (at least, not after writing that). \n"You like Limp Bizkit? Really? OK, yeah, I see the tattoo, right on." "Evanescence? No way. Dude, no way. Oh my God, you have their singles. Sweet." "You've seen the Goo Goo Dolls five times? You know they used to be a hardcore band? No, no, it has nothing to do with porn. It's like punk but … never mind, right on bro."\nLoving stupid music is infinitely better than hating it on principle. In fact, don't hate anything on principle. Leave elitism to fancy restaurants and insecure rock critics. And rent "A Man For All Seasons" when you get a chance.