White noise

I was thinking about ELO the other day.  There was a programme about Jeff Lynne on the telly last weekend, in which all his rock star mates lionised the world's most famous Brummie, and Jeff was pictured in his palatial California home, writing and recording.  I must admit, like most people in their 40s, I have a soft spot for The Electric Light Orchestra.  Their literate, assessable music was everywhere when I was a nipper.  It was optimistic-sounding and well written.  Lovely.

The trouble is when I listen to the band now, as a grizzled adult, there is vague feeling of dissatisfaction.  It's like eating Spacedust; your body's not fooled for an instant.  You're swallowing something with calories in it, but your stomach is crying out for nutrition.  And that, sadly, is what happens to my mind when listening to ELO.  It just washes over my brain without sinking in.  It should be more satisfying.  It's still good music, but it lacks something...a little 'heart' perhaps?  This pains me because I admire JL hugely; he's a great songwriter.

The same thing happens with The Police, but that's less troubling as I never cared for the blond ponces much anyway.  The Police are the exemplar of bands that despite having sold gazillions of records, leave a scarcely vapour trail in history's sky (nice metaphor, me!).  When's the last time you heard them on the radio?  Exactly.  How many people still buy their albums?  Never and none.  And why?  Because they too lack heart or authenticity.  

I suppose that's it.  If something is heartfelt and is done with integrity, then even if one hates it, it's still preferable to glib.  The professional haircuts in the music papers (Google 'music papers' if you're under 30) used to bemoan Abba lacking passion, but that's to misread the situation.  Abba laid their lives bare; their sex lives, infidelities, domestic arrangements - all were co-opted as material for their songs.  But they are educated, middle-class Swedes, so their art, as with most Scandinavian art, has a detachment, a certain distance.  That's a Scandinavian trait, and Abba's work must be judged in light of this.  There's also a huge amount of self-serving posturing in the journalists' position on this - the unfashionable end of pop.  Abba are and always will be effortlessly uncool, and the NME and Melody Maker could not forgive them this.

But, think about it: people love Abba, still.  The work isn't glib and disingenuous; it's heartfelt.  It's like Kraftwerk.  Are they cold?  They should be.  But they're not.  They mean it, and that speaks to people.