As the summer comes to a close, students begin to return from their fun in the sun, settle down for the start of the school year and wait for the solemn mood to set in.
In the world of entertainment, the end of summer is accompanied by exhaustion from chaotic blockbusters and loud pop anthems. The music industry in particular refused to take a break this summer, with albums, songs and performances that brought everything from undying praise to viral controversy.
Columnists Sebastian Torrelio and Tony Huang spent the summer intaking the newest music releases and are ready to reflect. This week’s Love|Hate features both columnists discussing their most loved and most hated music moments of the summer season.
LOVE:
It’s odd that a fair amount of the singles deemed “songs of the summer” weren’t actually released during the summer, such as Robin Thicke’s “Blurred Lines,” which was released back in March. However, if I were forced to pick one song released in the summer months to be the season’s official celebratory anthem, it would likely be a song by either Miley Cyrus or One Direction. And I won’t allow that.
But it’s not like I need to. After 12 weeks as the top song on the Billboard Hot 100, the longest streak of the 2010s decade, Thicke’s “Blurred Lines” has declared itself summer champion. It’s an achievement not everyone is happy with, and many have accused the lyrics of being misogynistic and the video of being insultingly provocative.
The argument is fair; the lyrics and video clearly aren’t intended to please women. But it’s impossible to deny that the song is one of the catchiest pop hits in years, with an R&B; beat so dance-compelling that the controversial verses might not even be necessary. Many listeners might hate these blurred lines, but it’s evident that Thicke has the swagger to pull them off.
HATE:
Perhaps it’s unfair to compare, but this summer’s hip-hop field, which included several of the most anticipated albums of the year for the genre, came disappointingly short to 2012’s benchmark year. Granted, last year’s “Channel Orange” by Frank Ocean and “good kid, m.A.A.d city” by Kendrick Lamar hit it so far out of the ballpark that even the hip-hop haters praised them as the best albums of the year, but 2013 has offered very little to even step up to the plate.
J. Cole’s “Born Sinner” and Wale’s “The Gifted” both claimed the top spot on the Billboard 200 for a week each in June, and both failed to meet their respective expectations. And while both albums were, at minimum, pretty good, Jay-Z’s “Magna Carta… Holy Grail” might be the rap icon’s worst album yet. Hearing “Holy Grail” on the radio, featuring one of the worst uses of Nirvana music in history, still makes me cringe.
Credit to Mac Miller and Kanye West for putting in respectful efforts, but this summer’s hip-hop field failed to meet the hype.
— Email Sebastian Torrelio if you are on his “love” or “hate” side at [email protected].
LOVE:
It’s actually been a summer of slim pickings for me, at no fault to the season — mostly I had Vampire Weekend’s “Modern Vampires of the City” to sigh adoringly over, so my motivation to seek out every nook and cranny was low. Shout-out to No Age’s “An Object,” Superchunk’s “I Hate Music” and Speedy Ortiz’s “Major Arcana,” but there wasn’t an album that destroyed me this summer.
There was, however, a moment early on that has stuck with me throughout: when the Marilyn Manson-like drums kick in on Kanye West’s “Black Skinhead,” off the otherwise puzzling (in good and bad ways) “Yeezus.” The aggression of the percussive intro creates a startling, unstable groove — I fondly recall trekking to downtown Los Angeles feeling at once angry, righteous and totally nervous, mostly because I was sure I’d be so caught up in the momentum that I’d start yelling in unison with Kanye. It’s the rare song that feels meaningful for its entire duration: perfectly crafted, ragged with all the right edges and totally moving.
HATE:
I don’t think anyone came away from Miley Cyrus’ performance feeling challenged about objectification or women’s rights. It raised a lot of valuable questions: Was our negative reaction borne out of a culture that frowns upon promiscuity ? Or was a performance of “Blurred Lines” itself already implicit of rape culture?
The answer to all those questions: partially, yes. But Cyrus isn’t much of a Selena Gomez, whose “Spring Breakers”
girl-gone-wild tactic was a much more successful posing of the same questions.
No, Cyrus’ performance was all undirected provocation, worse because it was provocation launched through the framework of the unabashedly macho “Blurred Lines.”
Her performance only becomes interesting as an artifact; its actual content was crude, unproductive and totally inept at expressing whatever tortured self hides in Miley’s identity.
Here’s hoping her future agitations are better informed, more targeted disturbances. Right now all she’s done is made herself a talking point.
— Email Tony Huang if you are on his “love” or “hate” side at [email protected].