This review is dedicated to Francis.
Lately, a debate has emerged between us regarding the comparison between the music of English artists and the music of American artists, about which one is better. There has been such an intensity that entire musical genres characteristic of one of the respective sides of the Atlantic have been condemned, with accusations of Yankee or British racism... Nevertheless, one must not think that this musical difference, and possibly cultural one, does not exist; it's just that, whereas with cinema the gap is considerable and proportional to the vastness of the two nations, when it comes to the music world, the small United Kingdom manages to hold its own against the immense United States, at times even completely surpassing its rival in rock history.
While acknowledging the English for this, we must assert that there is no qualitative difference between the two countries, and overall not even a quantitative one. The difference is cultural, between a country - the U.S. - with predominantly blues/country/folk roots, with such a recent history that it has experienced isolation from classical music, medieval traditional songs, madrigals, or the poetical-musical discoveries of troubadours. This leads the States to cling even more to their small mythology of pre-civil war black gospel, Buddy Holly and Presley in a thousand forms, Californian waves and chewing gum surf-style, and Kerouac's kin like Dylan or Springsteen. They themselves teach that beyond the musical background, the physical one is also determinant, made up of unique environments like Arizona, Nebraska, or the bay of San Francisco, vast and/or secret lands, mystical or chaotic, that only those who have seen them can understand. England (and to a modest extent, Ireland) has represented the beacon of Europe in an already English-dominated world; and it has gathered from the heights of its national pride all its traits of veiled irony, relative formal elegance, introverted yet dominant style, and snobbish aggressiveness far from the most obvious vulgarity.
I'll give a small example by taking a random year from the forty years since the first Beatles/Beach Boys duels: 1994. This year, in my opinion, can be exemplary for understanding the sweet divergences between the two superpowers in question: at that moment, both had their record of the year released by two bands that had spent the early '90s waiting for the big commercial-generational bang, respectively Green Day with “Dookie” in the USA and Blur with “Parklife” in the UK. Meanwhile, two debuts were released on the market that would equally decisively change the course of music in their countries for the remaining '90s: “Definitely Maybe” by Oasis and the self-titled first album by Weezer, later known to all as the Blue Album. While Gallagher draws heavily from the English past, invoking in style and cheekiness Beatles & Wham!, Sex Pistols & Smiths, the Los Angeles guys are cheerfully composing simple pop-folk pieces mixed into a resounding yet harmless punk. There is no tradition to respect or plagiarize, psychedelic jams like “Columbia”; here, there is the triumph of the sunniest and most innocent joy, 40 minutes of college jokes and “stupid songs with stupid words”. Even the cover is eloquent: no globes, alcohol, and Bacharach vinyls, just four cheerful lads posing against a simple blue background with a love for the immediate beauty of pop art. In the end, we are the luckiest: we've been able to enjoy these damn rock 'n' roll craftsmen both.
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