6A — Monday, October 5, 2015
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

MUSIC COLUMN

A history of the pop

music canon

T

he Beatles and The
Rolling Stones took the
proto-rock ‘n’ roll of

Chuck Berry and Little Richard
and made it a global phenom-
enon. Then
The Who
and Pink
Floyd and
Springsteen
all took their
enormous
ambition and
played clas-
sic records
to huge sta-
diums. Then
punk showed up to cut every-
one back down to size. Then
Guns ‘n’ Roses and hair metal
got huge. Then Nirvana sup-
planted that overindulgence.
And now we’re here.

That was my story of popular

music for a long time. How did I
get there?

***

I was reading “A Home at the

End of the World” by Michael
Cunningham over the summer,
and came across a great scene
where the characters dance to
Laura Nyro, a singer-songwriter
I had never heard of. When I
looked her up, I half-expected
her to be fictional, but no, Nyro
was a quite successful songwrit-
er in the ’60s and ’70s — granted,
a lot of her songs were written
for other artists, but she still has
several well-regarded albums of
her own.

I listened to Nyro and

instantly fell in love. Her
voice was soulful, her baroque
arrangements busy and upbeat.
She’d written “Wedding Bell
Blues,” done a brilliant cov-
ers record of R&B songs with
LaBelle and released classic
albums like Eli and the Thir-
teenth Confession and New York
Tendaberry that were simulta-
neously heavy with meaning
and light with beauty. I was
elated that I’d discovered Nyro,
but honestly, I was pissed that
it had taken me so long.

When I was growing up, I

somehow got the “classic rock”
education. I don’t know where
exactly it started — my parents
weren’t huge into the genre or
anything — but for a long time
The Who was my favorite band,
and I listened to Guns ‘n’ Roses
unironically, and I thought
Pink Floyd’s The Wall was the
greatest album of all time. I
got my testosterone-drenched
history of popular music from
Rock Docs and Greatest Hits
album liner notes, and those
sources really didn’t leave any
room for geniuses like Joni
Mitchell or Carole King or
Laura Nyro.

My point is, if you ask anyone

to give you a history of popu-
lar music from the ’50s or ’60s
onward, the answers you get will
vary wildly based on age, race,
gender and where the respon-
dent grew up, and that means
the way we learn about music is

subject to some crazy biases.

***

Charley Patton and Robert

Johnson created the Blues.
Howlin’ Wolf and Muddy Waters
carried on the tradition. Dylan
picked it up in the ’60s. Joni
made a perfect break-up album
while Nick Drake crafted unap-
preciated beauty. Big Star made
some transcendent melancholy
music in the ’70s, and Bowie
made some great records, too.
Underground punk and new
wave rode through the ’80s,
giving way to mainstream alter-
native rock like U2, R.E.M. or
Radiohead. Now we have the
The National, Brand New and
Arcade Fire.

***

A lot of indie kids (or hipsters,

whatever you want to call them)
will cite Big Star as one of the
greatest bands of all time. Funny
thing is, absolutely nobody in the
’70s (when the band was actually
around) would have even known
who they were. Big Star toiled
in obscurity for just a few years
before falling apart.

But somewhere along the

line, Big Star got rediscovered
— bands like R.E.M. named
them as influences, their
records got reissued and critics
kept waving a flag for the band.
Number 1 Record and Radio City
are both in Rolling Stone’s “Top
500 Albums of All Time” list,
and they’re now cult classics
thanks to their brilliant songs
and mythic aura. Those albums
have sad, longing feelings
set to absolutely gorgeous
melodies. Especially if you’re in
a certain late-night existential
melancholy, those songs paint
the perfect portrait of a band
who always deserved more
than it got.

Frankly, I love Big Star, and

I’m so obnoxious about that
fact I could probably talk about
them forever. But I listen to
other bands with similar sounds
from the same era — like The
Raspberries or Badfinger — and
I honestly wonder how Big Star
ended up in our indie rock canon
but not those other bands. The
answer, I think, is simply that
those other bands were famous,
while Big Star had no commer-
cial success whatsoever.

***

After Elvis, you had Motown

and the girl groups. They gave
way to bands like ABBA, Fleet-
wood Mac and The Bee Gees.
After Disco, Michael, Prince
and Madonna dominated the
charts while hip hop started
to gain its footing. The ’90s
were a decade of Biggie, 2Pac,
Dre and Jay, but as the decade
closed out and we entered the
new millennium you’d be hear-
ing Britney, Beyoncé, Justin,
The Black Eyed Peas and The
Killers on the radio. Lately, it’s
Gaga, Kanye or Maroon 5, and
now it’s Fetty Wap.

***

Most kids born in the mid-to-

late ’90s remember Janet Jack-
son for one incident — the event
that birthed the phrase “ward-
robe malfunction” in the popular
lexicon. What I didn’t even real-
ize until this year was that she
has had ten number-one hits and
released some of the best-selling
albums of all time.

Sometime in the last 10 years,

Janet Jackson got completely
written out of The Canon. None
of her songs seem to qualify as
“throwback jams;” her career
gets overshadowed by peers like
Madonna or Whitney Houston,
and her entire legacy, for at least
some generations, has been
reduced to one moment.

Jackson has a “comeback”

album out now called Unbreak-
able. (I put comeback in quotes
just because even with her
recent lack of popularity, Jack-
son is still a remarkably wealthy,
successful artist.) Buoyed by
the strong, understated single
“No Sleeep” she released this
summer (which was a fantastic
minimalist jam as long as you
didn’t listen to the J. Cole ver-
sion), I went back through Jack-
son’s back catalog and stumbled
upon some huge hits that I had
somehow never heard. There’s
classic dance-pop like “If” and
‘Control” as well as rainy-night
R&B slow jams like “Any Time,
Any Place” (which I actually did
know from its usage in Kend-
rick Lamar’s “Poetic Justice”).
After even just the most cursory
look through her hit singles, my
perception of Jackson had com-
pletely changed.

I like Unbreakable, and I

would really love it if some of
its singles could break through
and reach mainstream radio
just to give Millennials some-
thing else to associate with
Jackson’s name besides the
Super Bowl incident. To some,
it might not seem like a huge
deal which artists get recog-
nized by future generations.
However, I keep thinking about
how we write and rewrite our
own histories, and the more I
think about it, the more impor-
tant it seems that this genera-
tion doesn’t forget about our
greatest artists just because
of random chance or biases.
What if, in 20 years, all the kids
think Lil B was better than
Kanye West? Or what if Azealia
Banks overshadows Beyoncé?
That wouldn’t just be weird;
it would be patently unfair to
artists and listeners. I don’t
know how exactly we go about
writing our own Canon for the
music of our lifetime, but when
we do, I just want to make sure
that the Laura Nyros and Janet
Jacksons of the 2000s don’t
slip through the cracks and get
unheard by people who might
need them.

Theisen is building a

shrine to Joni Mitchell. To

send him something blue,

e-mail ajtheis@umich.edu.

ADAM

THEISEN

‘Sex’ disappointing

TV REVIEW

By BEN ROSENSTOCK

Daily Arts Writer

Since its second season, “Mas-

ters of Sex” has produced great
individual moments and episodes
that don’t hold
up
as
well

when viewed
as parts of a
greater whole.
The third sea-
son
finale,

titled
“Full

Ten
Count,”

follows
that

same pattern.
Several
con-

flicts come to
a head that the
whole
show

has been building to, yet so much
of the episode is littered with
the remains of story threads that
have been lackluster at best.

Still, Bill and Virginia’s role

reversal has been one intriguing
thread to follow through the sea-
son, and it’s pleasant seeing Bill
(Michael Sheen, “Frost/Nixon”)
acting a more kind, sympathetic
and honest than his cold, detached
role in previous seasons. When
Bill defiantly tells Virginia (Lizzy
Caplan, “Mean Girls”) that he
loves her, and later takes a cab to
the airport to beg with her to come
back with him, he’s worthy of
being the romantic lead the show
always asked him to be. It’s easy
to become jaded about the cliff-
hanger when Bill stands sadly out-
side, his professional and personal
future with Virginia uncertain,
but the show invests the audi-
ence with empathy for him. That
often wasn’t possible earlier on.
This season has mostly revolved
around a love triangle between
sex researcher Bill Masters, his
partner Virginia Johnson and fra-
grance industry businessman, Dan
Logan (Josh Charles, “The Good
Wife”). Last week’s episode served
to finally make Logan a real char-
acter with flaws and complexities
of his own, and “Full Ten Count”
shows him impressively commit-
ting to Virginia, leaving his wife
and proposing to Virginia. It’s nice
to see Virginia actually taking a
stand against Bill and choosing
Logan instead of constantly waf-
fling between the two men. Still,
it’s hard not to sigh at the delay of
the inevitable resolution when Bill
and Virginia will end up together.
Even if there was any dramatic
tension left in the love triangle,
history tells us Masters and John-
son get married. By now, new love
interests and contrivances feel like
unnecessary wheel-spinning.

Aside from the love triangle

business, most of the finale
deals
with
cleaning
up
the

various threads left hanging. Bill

finds himself in jail because a
participant in his sex study, Nora
(Emily Kinney, “The Walking
Dead”), is a religious mole bent
on framing him for prostitution
and taking down the study. He’s
also in trouble because his son,
Johnny (Jaeden Lieberher, “St.
Vincent”), made a comment about
a boy at school that leads the police
to accuse Bill of molestation. And
in one scene designed to tie up
a lingering loose end, Bill’s wife
Libby (Caitlin Fitzgerald, “Mutual
Friends”) finds out her lover Paul
(Ben Koldyke, “Mr. Robinson”) is
gone for good.

All of these subplots have

sucked up time that could have
been better spent taking Bill
and Virginia’s sex study to the
next level, and none could have
been predicted from the season
premiere, an episode generally
expected to set up the structure
and overall arcs of the season.
The show has introduced too
many narrative cul-de-sacs to
actually resolve the overarching
story. The first few episodes
promised a deep look into Bill and
Virginia’s twisted relationships
with their children, but the roles
of Virginia’s kids, Tessa (Isabelle
Fuhrman, “Orphan”) and Henry
(Noah
Robbins,
“Aftermath”),

proved superfluous. Tessa was
a mustache-twirling antagonist
who the story repeatedly failed
to invest viewers in, and Henry
signed up for the Army only to
disappear completely from the
story. As little as these characters
ultimately
mattered,
though,

it’d still make sense to conclude
the season with some closure in
regards to their relationship with
their mother. Both characters
are completely missing from the
finale. Johnny’s lack of meaningful
interaction with his father is
even more frustrating, as Bill’s
projection of his father’s coldness
onto Johnny made a potentially

fascinating story. Much like the
love triangle, though, this story
is left unresolved. Maybe it’ll be
resolved next premiere, or maybe
it’ll be dragged out for years.

Still, just like any other episode

of “Masters of Sex,” there are
enough impactful moments to
distract from the glaring flaws.
Dr. Barton Scully (Beau Bridges,
“The Millers”) finally becomes
comfortable showing affection
for another man in public.
Most prominent, though, is a
final moment of closure for Bill
and his wife. Bill and Libby’s
relationship has been fairly
one-note for most of the show,
but this season has added the
interesting wrinkle that Libby
is aware of Bill’s affair and
has accepted it. Finally, in the
finale, Bill and Libby have the
confrontation the whole show
has built toward. After three
seasons of deception, denial
and dysfunction, Bill admits to
the affair. Fitzgerald’s reaction
is powerful as she laughs at the
idea that she still wouldn’t have
known, then hysterically breaks
down as Bill abruptly suggests
they separate. “It would be the
one honest thing we do in years,”
Bill says softly. After years of lies
and quiet sacrifice, finally the
unspoken becomes spoken. It’s a
moment of pure catharsis.

“Masters of Sex” becomes

more of an issue each year, as all
notions of structure are thrown
out in favor of uninteresting
stories that distract from the
sex study that made the show
so compelling in its first season.
It’s up in the air whether next
season will be able to reclaim
the scientific magic and aching
human drama of the first, but if
the show maintains its ability
to create singular moments of
beauty despite recurring story
problems, it’ll always be worth
watching.

B

Masters
of Sex

Season 3
Finale

Sundays at

10 p.m.

Showtime

ALBUM REVIEW

‘Unbreakable’ a dull
comeback for Janet

By CHRISTIAN KENNEDY

Daily Arts Writer

Seven years after Feedback,

Janet Jackson has returned to the
pop music landscape with her 11th
studio album,
Unbreakable.
The record’s
title works on
many levels:
it may refer
to Jackson’s
unbreakable
optimism,
which
is

pervasive
throughout the LP; it may refer
to her ability to overcome life’s
hardships
(the
death
of
her

brother, Michael, a Super Bowl
nip-slip and the termination of a
seven-year relationship); or it may
refer to the unbreakable mold of
underdeveloped,
overproduced

pop R&B tracks that, together, form
the entirety of her new album.

Moments on Unbreakable fall

into a few categories: the repetitive,
the cliché and the wandering. That
may not sound too blundering;
however, the repetitive moments
are not catchy, the clichés don’t
recognize themselves as such and
the wandering fails to discover
anything terribly stimulating.

“BURNITUP!” has potential

with the heavy bass and a Missy
Elliott feature, but the repeated
phrases “turn it up” and “burn it
up” don’t invite any participation
beyond some slight head nodding
(maybe). Even more disappointing
is the degree to which Missy
Elliott’s verse is boring. Elliott,
as shown by her Super Bowl
appearance, might be ready for
a comeback, but if this is any
indicator of it’s content, she might
be best left in her Greatest Hits era.

Opener “Unbreakable” offers

an acceptable beat, but amid
the many layers of vocal tracks
and the unimaginative chorus,
the song’s potential is lost. In
the same vein, every lyric on
“Shoulda Known Better” has
been heard on another track.
At its best moment, though, the
instrumental build is just enticing
enough to hear it out. “Broken
Hearts Heal” can be described in
the exact same fashion — minus
the a capitivating production.

However, the metaphor behind

“Well
Traveled”
is
original.

Jackson has come a long way, and
she’s still going, but this song still
won’t go anywhere. She croons
about traveling as she sings in
circles. Individually, the lyrics are
OK, but compiled together nothing

greater is revealed. In “Black
Eagle,” another wanderer begins
with another metaphor. “Let me
tell you about the black eagle,” she
says. And after that initial intro,
we don’t hear a damn thing about
that eagle again.

While the album lacks in the

majority of areas, it does have
a couple moments of cohesive,
coherent content. “2 B Loved” has
the retro/modern feel that has
been
bombarding
pop-culture

recently (i.e. “Uptown Funk”
by Mark Ronson, “Classic” by
MKTO etc. etc.). And despite the
fact that Kendrick Lamar filled
the “We gon’ be alright” quota,
“Gon’ B Alright” by Jackson has
the heart and enthusiasm behind
her delivery to make it one of the
album’s stand-outs.

From the moment track one

ends, it’s easy to realize that this
is an album for Jackson’s longtime
fans as she says “I’m glad you’re
still here / I dedicate myself to
you / I hope you enjoy.” I am not
one of these fans (obviously),
but their dedication to Jackson
and
Jackson’s
dedication
to

them, as well as to her artistry,
is respectable at the very least.
“Unbreakable” might not break
out of the mold, but at least it’s the
mold Jackson created herself.

C-

Unbreakable

Janet Jackson

Rhythm Nation

Records

SHOWTIME

“So you’re telling two minutes is a short time.”