Be Here Now: Chapter two
Chapter Two
Artefacts, artifice and authenticity: Tribute performers and pop memorabilia
Since the dawn of modernism, the ability to reproduce reality in art has been regarded as irrelevant and even reactionary by the cultural elite. The public, on the other hand, has always admired those who can imitate reality or real people … (Cosmo Landesman, Sunday Times, 30 July 1995, page 10/4).
The popularity of Rock Circus (nearly 700,000 visitors in 1994 alone - BTA/ETB Research Services, 1995, page 62), of the long-running television series Stars In Their Eyes (Stars In Their Eyes, United Kingdom, 1990/1998, Granada Television, ITV) and of tribute performers like Björn Again, The Bootleg Beatles and No Way Sis all testify to the level of public admiration for the art of imitation. Similarly, Landesman's observation about elitist attitudes is borne out by comments such as those of Francis Wheen, who confesses: I find this (lookalikes) craze, ignited by the ghastly ITV show Stars In Their Eyes unfathomable. But then I never understood why tourists queue outside Madame Tussauds for the privilege of looking at implausible wax models of The Duchess of York or Michael Jackson when they can see the real thing in Hello! (Wheen, The Guardian, 15 June 1994, G2T, page 7).
Such disdain seems to stem from the nature of modernism itself and its quest for the new. As Harvey points out, artistic originality was prized because modernity was defined by the transformation of tradition in a process of "creative destruction" (Schumpeter), and hence:
If flux and change, ephemerality and fragmentation, formed the material basis of modern life, then the definition of a modernist aesthetic depended crucially upon the artist's positioning with respect to such processes. The individual artist could contest them, embrace then, try to dominate then, or simply swim within them, but an
artist could never ignore them. (Harvey, 1990, page 20).
Those artists who did not seek out new and original forms of expression came to be viewed by the champions of modernism as nostalgic and retrograde. Technological innovations amplified the feeling that to be modern meant to be original, for, as Lowenthal notes, "(a)s technology perfected modes of imitation, the notion of imitation became profoundly distasteful" (Lowenthal, 1985, page 373).
As I have already indicated, such convictions inform the work of Robert Hewison for whom there is a correlation between history and modernism (which are good) and their unwelcome opposites heritage and postmodernism (see Chapter One). That many pop fans and critics have a similar worldview seems evident from responses to the rise of tribute performers (a phenomenon spawned in Australia at the turn of the decade), as this anecdote from Björn Again manager, John Tyrrell illustrates:
… this venue in Amsterdam pulled a stunt whereby they advertised there was a Queen (tribute) band playing, and there was a good crowd there. They opened the curtains and there was a cardboard cut-out of each of the Queen members, and they said we just want to stamp out tribute bands like Björn Again, we want to stop that in Holland. And we haven't been able to tour there. In three years we haven't been there … (Appendix 1).
As I pointed out that the end of the first chapter, this contempt can be attributed to the common perception of pop as modern, youthful and original. When it is otherwise it seems 'meaningless' (as Llewellyn Smith, The Times, 18 June 1993, page 17). Hence, Bruce Dessau berates the tribute band The Australian Doors Show on the grounds that "the Xerox rockers lack … the danger of the originals", a criticism which reminds me of Adorno's adage in "Bach defended against his Devotees" that "(m)eaning can never be grasped by the 'pure' rendition" (Dessau, The Guardian, 31 December 1991, FEA, page 15/Adorno, 1967, page 144).
Later in the chapter, I shall be considering just how 'pure' are those renditions of the original acts by tribute performers and indeed, whether their 'purity' should be cause for concern. Certainly, there is widespread concern that it is unhealthy for pop to be too safe and respectable, as clearly expressed by the disc jockey Simon Bates in his reaction to plans for a "Rock Proms" at the Royal Albert Hall:
It is a ghastly idea … It would end up being organised by people my age. The whole point about rock is you listen to it in dark and unpleasant places. Here it would be all about people like John Birt sitting in the royal box (Bates in Fowler, Sunday Times, 18 December 1994, 9, page 1).
Such horror at the prospect of pop becoming more like classical music may be rooted in the fact that its antecedents are forms of folk music (blues, Country, Gospel) rather than 'high' culture. Pop's link to folk culture is made plain by the knowledge that, in medieval times, popular song and dance were strongly informed by Carnival, whose major themes were "food, sex and violence" (Chanan, 1994, page 32), whilst, as Savage notes, pop music is concerned with "sex, death and consumerism" (Savage, 1996, page 354). As a folk form, pop is also a democratic form (see Chapter One), a far cry from the inherent élitism of classical music whose rationalisation of musical form through the systems of notation and harmony has led to popular, traditional and non-western music being viewed as inferior, and unjustly so, given that the western high cultural tradition is grounded in a totalising system that patently fails to capture the totality of music expression (eg timbre cannot be represented on a stave) (see Chanan, 1994).
If the classical tradition is in many respects inimical to pop music, critical opprobrium towards tribute performers seems to be validated by the fact that The Bootleg Beatles refer to their yuletide tours as the 'Xmas Proms' and by the belief of Who Two's Martin Dimery that "(t)ribute bands … will be the chamber orchestras of the future" (Dimery, The Guardian, 16 October 1995, G2T, page 10). Yet, any suggestion that tribute shows offer no critical engagement with the past and are pointless re-enactments for people wallowing in nostalgia should be strongly contested.
As is true of the heritage industry more generally (see Mellor, 1989), the tribute phenomenon is not a homogeneous entity; tribute shows take a variety of forms with some consciously seeking to re-interpret rather than re-enact the past. In this category I would include the kitsch and playful antics of, Björn Again (see Appendix 1), the 'unplugged' acoustic renditions of Beatles songs by Nottingham-based tribute, The Fab 4 (Malt Cross Music Hall, March 1988, np), and the 'Dream Duets' event at the Liverpool Bluecoat, a pop equivalent of fantasy football where, for instance, a Bowie clone was paired with a Jarvis Cocker imitator (Mojo, April 1997, page 129).
A more typical (and very successful) tribute show is put on by The Bootleg Beatles, a group whose faithful renditions of The Beatles' repertoire are nevertheless far more than 'pure' re-enactments of the past. Rather than recreating specific Beatles performances, the group offer (in their own words) "a condensed musical history" from Love Me Do to Let It Be in two hours with the aid of costumes, slides and an orchestra (Sandall, section 12, Sunday Times, 7 February 1993, page 8/The Beatles, Love Me Do/The Beatles, Let It Be). A Bootleg Beatles show has the same relationship to a Beatles performance as does a Beatles record: it is an idealised version, a simulacrum, rather than an 'authentic' rendition. Just as Beatles records were fabricated from numerous studio takes (whilst being played live in the first instance - genuine fakes - see MacDonald, 1994), so the Bootleg Beatles compile their show from a bank of shared memories (of records, live and television appearances, personal recollections, video archives) of the original group. This imitation therefore should be thought of as more than a subjective fantasy since its success depends upon accurately representing actual historical persons and objects (bearing out Appleby; Hunt and Jacob's dictum that "objectivity remains with the object" - Appleby et al, 1994, page 257). These objects however are as inauthentic as they are authentic.
As I have previously indicated (see Intro; Chapter One), Hewison's concern about the heritage industry at the level of content is that it bears no relation to historical reality, that artefacts are displaced by simulacra and simulations. As with the revelation in the last chapter that re-enactments have played a part in historical understanding for centuries, the knowledge that the bootleg Beatles' show is a simulacrum that is rooted in reality upsets Hewison's simple oppositions. Certainly, one implication is that tribute shows are not simulations in the Baudrillardian sense, where "simulation … is a generation by models of a real without origins or reality: a hyperreal (Baudrilard, 1983 b, page 10). Further evidence for the objectivity of tribute performers comes from Rod Stewart mimic Jack Danson, who explains that, for the audience accuracy "really matters 'cause there's so many people doing it if you don't do it bang on then they just laugh at you and jeer you off the stage" (Appendix 2).
To illustrate the complex reality of the tribute phenomenon Björn Again manager John Tyrrell puts forward the converse thesis to Danson's suggesting that:
… it's all about entertainment: you know, let's go along and have a good time watching Björn Again play, it's not like (the audience) see it as a serious thing or even rationalise it to the original. I don't think people think that. (Appendix 1).
This seems like a reasonable claim in the light of evidence such as the proclamation of one Björn Again devotee who declared "I'm sick of po-faced gits analysing music. This is just pure fun" (Rahim, Sunday Times, 14 July 1991, np). So, who is right: Danson or Tyrrell? Well, I think they both are, since reactions vary according to which tribute act you are hearing and seeing and which audience member you ask. Even if some fans and bands (e.g. The Australian Doors Show - see Appendix 3) have an aversion to critical analysis, as I demonstrated in Chapter One they must (contrary to Hewison's claims) be critically engaged to some degree. The upshot, as Marcus indicates in writing about Elvis impersonator Enis the Penis, is that "(e)veryone knows it isn't real, that it isn't really happening" (Marcus, 1992, page 121). If everyone knows that tribute shows are an artifice what is their attraction? Marcus gives us an inkling in stating that "(w)hen one cannot have the truth one still wants it" (Marcus, 1991, page 120).
This brings me back to the idea that the popularity and meaningfulness of pop can be attributed to the fact that its 'emotional truth' is more reliable than the "epistemic relativity" (Bhaskar, 1978, page 73) of the expert systems of modernity (see Chapter One). At the end of the last chapter and earlier in this one I questioned whether the art of imitation would negate pop's 'emotional truth' because, as a form, it is usually thought to be nothing if not original. Marcus offers strong evidence to the contrary when his observations of Enis the Penis lead him to the conclusion that "a representation can make people feel as deeply as whatever it is the representation represents" (Marcus, 1992, page 120).
As I have previously pointed out (see Chapter One), one of the feelings most readily communicated by pop music is that of belonging to a community. The popularity of tribute performers at social gatherings like student balls suggests that Marcus is right, and that the copyists are as adept as the originals at providing this sense of communal belonging. This is perhaps most noticeable from the pulling power of tribute shows during the festive season, something Rick Rock ('Ringo' of the bootleg Beatles) attributes to the fact that "(e)verybody is out for a fun thing at Christmas. We get lots of families. Tis time of year, people are looking for something to take their whole family to" (Sullivan, G2T, The Guardian, 6 December 1994, page 4).
The search for a sense of community and authentic experience seems also to have played a significant part in the development of the pop memorabilia industry.
The relics of the modern age/of modernism
Like the tribute phenomenon, the pop memorabilia industry has grown remarkably in recent years. According to Stephen Maycock, the roots of this boom lie in the passion of pop fans for ephemera and merchandise relating to their favourites, a constant since the earliest days of rock 'n' roll in the 1950s (Maycock, 1994, page 8). Picking up momentum from the early 1970s onwards through record fairs, fan clubs and small ads (as Savage notes, an "exhaustive interest in pop history … was an undercurrent of the early 1970s" - Savage, 1991, page 49), Maycock argues that "the rock and pop collecting boom began in December 1981, when Sotheby's auction house in London held the first ever sale dedicated to the subject" (Maycock, 1994, page 8). Nowadays, rock and pop auctions are a commonplace and it is estimated that the market is worth £20 million a year (Johnson, Sunday Times, 22 April 1990, np).
One obvious reason for the expansion of this area is the age and respectability of pop music (see Intro; Chapter One) which not only means that there is more material to collect but also that pop ephemera is becoming more 'antique' and therefore of comparable status to other art collectables. This latter development explains the interest of long-term investors who, as Harvey notes, have converted their money into assets because of high and unstable inflation rates over the last two to three decades, prompting a "vast inflation in certain kinds of asset prices - collectables, art objects, antiques, houses and the like" (Harvey, 1990, page 298). (In terms of pop memorabilia this inflation is illustrated by the willingness of one buyer to pay over $2 million in 1985 for a Rolls-Royce specially customised for John Lennon and of another's shelling out of £198,000 in 1990 for a Fender Stratocaster guitar which once belonged to Jimi Hendrix - Maycock, 1994, page 114/page 99).
Although, as Kay suggests, this group of long-term investors is small they can have a big impact on the state of the market, for instance "(I)n the early 1980s Japanese private buyers were very influential, particularly feverish in their enthusiasm to acquire Beatles memorabilia" (Kay, 1992, page 9). These private investors may find themselves bidding against commercial enterprises such as the Hard Rock Café chain, Rock Circus, The Beatles Story and the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame (situated in Cleveland, Ohio) which use their range of pop memorabilia to lure custom. However, as Kay points out, "(c)ommercial enterprises are unpredictable buyers and their importance in the market can fluctuate wildly from one year to the next" (Kay, 1992, page 9).
In stark contrast, to these motives, the bulk of investors in pop memorabilia make their purchases more out of love than in the expectation of making a killing. This is as much the case for aficionados spending thousands of pounds at an auction as it is for young fans spending a couple of pounds at a record fair or convention.
In both instances memorabilia is desirable because when people buy it they feel they are "buying a piece of their hero or heroine" (Stephen Maycock) (which explains why Boy George has been observed purchasing an item relating to one of his formative influences - Donny Osmond's cat suit) (Johnson, Sunday Times, 22 April 1990, np).
If he were alive, Walter Benjamin may well feel inclined to cast doubt on the emotional authenticity of such objects. I make this conjecture in the knowledge that, for Benjamin, when mechanically reproduced, an artwork loses its 'aura', its "unique presence in time and space". At the same time the aura of the artist also withers meaning that 'the culture industry' (Adorno & Horkheimer, 1944) must preserve it artificially in order to make money, preserving "not the unique aura of the person but the 'spell of the personality', the phoney spell of a commodity" (Benjamin, 1936, in Benjamin, 1992, page 224). Yet does the fact that, as Maycock indicates, some folks "come to the auction view just to touch a jacket worn by Elvis or John Lennon" imply that they are simply in thrall to commodities or are more complex readings of the situation in order (Maycock quoted in Johnson, Sunday Times, 22 April 1990, np)?
Well, whilst there is certainly plenty of money changing hands to secure items of pop memorabilia, it is not true to say that this indicates that people are blindly worshipping commodities since it is not the monetary value of these items that matters so much as their meaning-value. As Harvey reveals, referring to the work of Rochberg-Halton:
… in a sample study of North Chicago residents in 1977 … the objects actually valued in the home were not the 'pecuniary trophies' of a materialist culture … but the artefacts that embodied 'ties to loved ones and kin, valued experiences and activities, and memories of significant life events and people.' Photographs, particular objects and events become the focus of a contemplative memory, and hence a generator of a sense of self that lies outside the sensory overloading of consumerist culture and fashion (Harvey, 1990, page 292). The conclusions of this research project tie in with my own belief that pop music is characterised by a dialectic of liberation and control and that its emotional truth remains 'priceless' even as we purchase it. This desire to bask in the glow of the 'aura' emitted by objects connected to those artists whose emotional truth resounds most powerfully for us suggests that pop memorabilia is the modern equivalent of religious relics.1.
If the emotional truth of pop music is able to survive its duplication by tribute performers and its dispersal into ephemera which is sold and re-sold by the memorabilia trade perhaps this is only because when it was made that pop had an emotional authenticity. The great fear, as I have frequently noted (see Intro; Chapter One; earlier in this chapter), is that today's pop has lost that sense of meaningfulness because it is only a representation of a representation of a copy of a pale reflection of an original object. As evidence of entropy the observation that "the gap between arrival on the pop scene and a presence at the rock auctions is getting smaller all the time" seems compelling (Record Collector, September 1997, 217, page 5).
Similarly, even Björn Again's manager is baffled by the existence of tributes to contemporary bands like Oasis (Appendix 1). Whilst I can only speculate as to the reasons for John Tyrrell's dislike of the likes of No Way Sis, there is a feeling abroad that Oasis are themselves essentially a tribute band, no more than "a cultural hologram of their heroes", The Beatles (Bracewell, 1997, page 229). In fact, the Britpop phenomenon of recent years (of which Oasis were considered leading lights) has a whole been derided as "heritage pop" (Bracewell, 1997, page 229 - see Intro). It is this notion which I shall be fully exploring in the following chapter.
Notes
1. A similar desire could also be said to lie behind the appreciation of the waxworks at Madame Tussauds as evinced by the many people having photographs taken standing next to their pop idols.
Artefacts, artifice and authenticity: Tribute performers and pop memorabilia
Since the dawn of modernism, the ability to reproduce reality in art has been regarded as irrelevant and even reactionary by the cultural elite. The public, on the other hand, has always admired those who can imitate reality or real people … (Cosmo Landesman, Sunday Times, 30 July 1995, page 10/4).
The popularity of Rock Circus (nearly 700,000 visitors in 1994 alone - BTA/ETB Research Services, 1995, page 62), of the long-running television series Stars In Their Eyes (Stars In Their Eyes, United Kingdom, 1990/1998, Granada Television, ITV) and of tribute performers like Björn Again, The Bootleg Beatles and No Way Sis all testify to the level of public admiration for the art of imitation. Similarly, Landesman's observation about elitist attitudes is borne out by comments such as those of Francis Wheen, who confesses: I find this (lookalikes) craze, ignited by the ghastly ITV show Stars In Their Eyes unfathomable. But then I never understood why tourists queue outside Madame Tussauds for the privilege of looking at implausible wax models of The Duchess of York or Michael Jackson when they can see the real thing in Hello! (Wheen, The Guardian, 15 June 1994, G2T, page 7).
Such disdain seems to stem from the nature of modernism itself and its quest for the new. As Harvey points out, artistic originality was prized because modernity was defined by the transformation of tradition in a process of "creative destruction" (Schumpeter), and hence:
If flux and change, ephemerality and fragmentation, formed the material basis of modern life, then the definition of a modernist aesthetic depended crucially upon the artist's positioning with respect to such processes. The individual artist could contest them, embrace then, try to dominate then, or simply swim within them, but an
artist could never ignore them. (Harvey, 1990, page 20).
Those artists who did not seek out new and original forms of expression came to be viewed by the champions of modernism as nostalgic and retrograde. Technological innovations amplified the feeling that to be modern meant to be original, for, as Lowenthal notes, "(a)s technology perfected modes of imitation, the notion of imitation became profoundly distasteful" (Lowenthal, 1985, page 373).
As I have already indicated, such convictions inform the work of Robert Hewison for whom there is a correlation between history and modernism (which are good) and their unwelcome opposites heritage and postmodernism (see Chapter One). That many pop fans and critics have a similar worldview seems evident from responses to the rise of tribute performers (a phenomenon spawned in Australia at the turn of the decade), as this anecdote from Björn Again manager, John Tyrrell illustrates:
… this venue in Amsterdam pulled a stunt whereby they advertised there was a Queen (tribute) band playing, and there was a good crowd there. They opened the curtains and there was a cardboard cut-out of each of the Queen members, and they said we just want to stamp out tribute bands like Björn Again, we want to stop that in Holland. And we haven't been able to tour there. In three years we haven't been there … (Appendix 1).
As I pointed out that the end of the first chapter, this contempt can be attributed to the common perception of pop as modern, youthful and original. When it is otherwise it seems 'meaningless' (as Llewellyn Smith, The Times, 18 June 1993, page 17). Hence, Bruce Dessau berates the tribute band The Australian Doors Show on the grounds that "the Xerox rockers lack … the danger of the originals", a criticism which reminds me of Adorno's adage in "Bach defended against his Devotees" that "(m)eaning can never be grasped by the 'pure' rendition" (Dessau, The Guardian, 31 December 1991, FEA, page 15/Adorno, 1967, page 144).
Later in the chapter, I shall be considering just how 'pure' are those renditions of the original acts by tribute performers and indeed, whether their 'purity' should be cause for concern. Certainly, there is widespread concern that it is unhealthy for pop to be too safe and respectable, as clearly expressed by the disc jockey Simon Bates in his reaction to plans for a "Rock Proms" at the Royal Albert Hall:
It is a ghastly idea … It would end up being organised by people my age. The whole point about rock is you listen to it in dark and unpleasant places. Here it would be all about people like John Birt sitting in the royal box (Bates in Fowler, Sunday Times, 18 December 1994, 9, page 1).
Such horror at the prospect of pop becoming more like classical music may be rooted in the fact that its antecedents are forms of folk music (blues, Country, Gospel) rather than 'high' culture. Pop's link to folk culture is made plain by the knowledge that, in medieval times, popular song and dance were strongly informed by Carnival, whose major themes were "food, sex and violence" (Chanan, 1994, page 32), whilst, as Savage notes, pop music is concerned with "sex, death and consumerism" (Savage, 1996, page 354). As a folk form, pop is also a democratic form (see Chapter One), a far cry from the inherent élitism of classical music whose rationalisation of musical form through the systems of notation and harmony has led to popular, traditional and non-western music being viewed as inferior, and unjustly so, given that the western high cultural tradition is grounded in a totalising system that patently fails to capture the totality of music expression (eg timbre cannot be represented on a stave) (see Chanan, 1994).
If the classical tradition is in many respects inimical to pop music, critical opprobrium towards tribute performers seems to be validated by the fact that The Bootleg Beatles refer to their yuletide tours as the 'Xmas Proms' and by the belief of Who Two's Martin Dimery that "(t)ribute bands … will be the chamber orchestras of the future" (Dimery, The Guardian, 16 October 1995, G2T, page 10). Yet, any suggestion that tribute shows offer no critical engagement with the past and are pointless re-enactments for people wallowing in nostalgia should be strongly contested.
As is true of the heritage industry more generally (see Mellor, 1989), the tribute phenomenon is not a homogeneous entity; tribute shows take a variety of forms with some consciously seeking to re-interpret rather than re-enact the past. In this category I would include the kitsch and playful antics of, Björn Again (see Appendix 1), the 'unplugged' acoustic renditions of Beatles songs by Nottingham-based tribute, The Fab 4 (Malt Cross Music Hall, March 1988, np), and the 'Dream Duets' event at the Liverpool Bluecoat, a pop equivalent of fantasy football where, for instance, a Bowie clone was paired with a Jarvis Cocker imitator (Mojo, April 1997, page 129).
A more typical (and very successful) tribute show is put on by The Bootleg Beatles, a group whose faithful renditions of The Beatles' repertoire are nevertheless far more than 'pure' re-enactments of the past. Rather than recreating specific Beatles performances, the group offer (in their own words) "a condensed musical history" from Love Me Do to Let It Be in two hours with the aid of costumes, slides and an orchestra (Sandall, section 12, Sunday Times, 7 February 1993, page 8/The Beatles, Love Me Do/The Beatles, Let It Be). A Bootleg Beatles show has the same relationship to a Beatles performance as does a Beatles record: it is an idealised version, a simulacrum, rather than an 'authentic' rendition. Just as Beatles records were fabricated from numerous studio takes (whilst being played live in the first instance - genuine fakes - see MacDonald, 1994), so the Bootleg Beatles compile their show from a bank of shared memories (of records, live and television appearances, personal recollections, video archives) of the original group. This imitation therefore should be thought of as more than a subjective fantasy since its success depends upon accurately representing actual historical persons and objects (bearing out Appleby; Hunt and Jacob's dictum that "objectivity remains with the object" - Appleby et al, 1994, page 257). These objects however are as inauthentic as they are authentic.
As I have previously indicated (see Intro; Chapter One), Hewison's concern about the heritage industry at the level of content is that it bears no relation to historical reality, that artefacts are displaced by simulacra and simulations. As with the revelation in the last chapter that re-enactments have played a part in historical understanding for centuries, the knowledge that the bootleg Beatles' show is a simulacrum that is rooted in reality upsets Hewison's simple oppositions. Certainly, one implication is that tribute shows are not simulations in the Baudrillardian sense, where "simulation … is a generation by models of a real without origins or reality: a hyperreal (Baudrilard, 1983 b, page 10). Further evidence for the objectivity of tribute performers comes from Rod Stewart mimic Jack Danson, who explains that, for the audience accuracy "really matters 'cause there's so many people doing it if you don't do it bang on then they just laugh at you and jeer you off the stage" (Appendix 2).
To illustrate the complex reality of the tribute phenomenon Björn Again manager John Tyrrell puts forward the converse thesis to Danson's suggesting that:
… it's all about entertainment: you know, let's go along and have a good time watching Björn Again play, it's not like (the audience) see it as a serious thing or even rationalise it to the original. I don't think people think that. (Appendix 1).
This seems like a reasonable claim in the light of evidence such as the proclamation of one Björn Again devotee who declared "I'm sick of po-faced gits analysing music. This is just pure fun" (Rahim, Sunday Times, 14 July 1991, np). So, who is right: Danson or Tyrrell? Well, I think they both are, since reactions vary according to which tribute act you are hearing and seeing and which audience member you ask. Even if some fans and bands (e.g. The Australian Doors Show - see Appendix 3) have an aversion to critical analysis, as I demonstrated in Chapter One they must (contrary to Hewison's claims) be critically engaged to some degree. The upshot, as Marcus indicates in writing about Elvis impersonator Enis the Penis, is that "(e)veryone knows it isn't real, that it isn't really happening" (Marcus, 1992, page 121). If everyone knows that tribute shows are an artifice what is their attraction? Marcus gives us an inkling in stating that "(w)hen one cannot have the truth one still wants it" (Marcus, 1991, page 120).
This brings me back to the idea that the popularity and meaningfulness of pop can be attributed to the fact that its 'emotional truth' is more reliable than the "epistemic relativity" (Bhaskar, 1978, page 73) of the expert systems of modernity (see Chapter One). At the end of the last chapter and earlier in this one I questioned whether the art of imitation would negate pop's 'emotional truth' because, as a form, it is usually thought to be nothing if not original. Marcus offers strong evidence to the contrary when his observations of Enis the Penis lead him to the conclusion that "a representation can make people feel as deeply as whatever it is the representation represents" (Marcus, 1992, page 120).
As I have previously pointed out (see Chapter One), one of the feelings most readily communicated by pop music is that of belonging to a community. The popularity of tribute performers at social gatherings like student balls suggests that Marcus is right, and that the copyists are as adept as the originals at providing this sense of communal belonging. This is perhaps most noticeable from the pulling power of tribute shows during the festive season, something Rick Rock ('Ringo' of the bootleg Beatles) attributes to the fact that "(e)verybody is out for a fun thing at Christmas. We get lots of families. Tis time of year, people are looking for something to take their whole family to" (Sullivan, G2T, The Guardian, 6 December 1994, page 4).
The search for a sense of community and authentic experience seems also to have played a significant part in the development of the pop memorabilia industry.
The relics of the modern age/of modernism
Like the tribute phenomenon, the pop memorabilia industry has grown remarkably in recent years. According to Stephen Maycock, the roots of this boom lie in the passion of pop fans for ephemera and merchandise relating to their favourites, a constant since the earliest days of rock 'n' roll in the 1950s (Maycock, 1994, page 8). Picking up momentum from the early 1970s onwards through record fairs, fan clubs and small ads (as Savage notes, an "exhaustive interest in pop history … was an undercurrent of the early 1970s" - Savage, 1991, page 49), Maycock argues that "the rock and pop collecting boom began in December 1981, when Sotheby's auction house in London held the first ever sale dedicated to the subject" (Maycock, 1994, page 8). Nowadays, rock and pop auctions are a commonplace and it is estimated that the market is worth £20 million a year (Johnson, Sunday Times, 22 April 1990, np).
One obvious reason for the expansion of this area is the age and respectability of pop music (see Intro; Chapter One) which not only means that there is more material to collect but also that pop ephemera is becoming more 'antique' and therefore of comparable status to other art collectables. This latter development explains the interest of long-term investors who, as Harvey notes, have converted their money into assets because of high and unstable inflation rates over the last two to three decades, prompting a "vast inflation in certain kinds of asset prices - collectables, art objects, antiques, houses and the like" (Harvey, 1990, page 298). (In terms of pop memorabilia this inflation is illustrated by the willingness of one buyer to pay over $2 million in 1985 for a Rolls-Royce specially customised for John Lennon and of another's shelling out of £198,000 in 1990 for a Fender Stratocaster guitar which once belonged to Jimi Hendrix - Maycock, 1994, page 114/page 99).
Although, as Kay suggests, this group of long-term investors is small they can have a big impact on the state of the market, for instance "(I)n the early 1980s Japanese private buyers were very influential, particularly feverish in their enthusiasm to acquire Beatles memorabilia" (Kay, 1992, page 9). These private investors may find themselves bidding against commercial enterprises such as the Hard Rock Café chain, Rock Circus, The Beatles Story and the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame (situated in Cleveland, Ohio) which use their range of pop memorabilia to lure custom. However, as Kay points out, "(c)ommercial enterprises are unpredictable buyers and their importance in the market can fluctuate wildly from one year to the next" (Kay, 1992, page 9).
In stark contrast, to these motives, the bulk of investors in pop memorabilia make their purchases more out of love than in the expectation of making a killing. This is as much the case for aficionados spending thousands of pounds at an auction as it is for young fans spending a couple of pounds at a record fair or convention.
In both instances memorabilia is desirable because when people buy it they feel they are "buying a piece of their hero or heroine" (Stephen Maycock) (which explains why Boy George has been observed purchasing an item relating to one of his formative influences - Donny Osmond's cat suit) (Johnson, Sunday Times, 22 April 1990, np).
If he were alive, Walter Benjamin may well feel inclined to cast doubt on the emotional authenticity of such objects. I make this conjecture in the knowledge that, for Benjamin, when mechanically reproduced, an artwork loses its 'aura', its "unique presence in time and space". At the same time the aura of the artist also withers meaning that 'the culture industry' (Adorno & Horkheimer, 1944) must preserve it artificially in order to make money, preserving "not the unique aura of the person but the 'spell of the personality', the phoney spell of a commodity" (Benjamin, 1936, in Benjamin, 1992, page 224). Yet does the fact that, as Maycock indicates, some folks "come to the auction view just to touch a jacket worn by Elvis or John Lennon" imply that they are simply in thrall to commodities or are more complex readings of the situation in order (Maycock quoted in Johnson, Sunday Times, 22 April 1990, np)?
Well, whilst there is certainly plenty of money changing hands to secure items of pop memorabilia, it is not true to say that this indicates that people are blindly worshipping commodities since it is not the monetary value of these items that matters so much as their meaning-value. As Harvey reveals, referring to the work of Rochberg-Halton:
… in a sample study of North Chicago residents in 1977 … the objects actually valued in the home were not the 'pecuniary trophies' of a materialist culture … but the artefacts that embodied 'ties to loved ones and kin, valued experiences and activities, and memories of significant life events and people.' Photographs, particular objects and events become the focus of a contemplative memory, and hence a generator of a sense of self that lies outside the sensory overloading of consumerist culture and fashion (Harvey, 1990, page 292). The conclusions of this research project tie in with my own belief that pop music is characterised by a dialectic of liberation and control and that its emotional truth remains 'priceless' even as we purchase it. This desire to bask in the glow of the 'aura' emitted by objects connected to those artists whose emotional truth resounds most powerfully for us suggests that pop memorabilia is the modern equivalent of religious relics.1.
If the emotional truth of pop music is able to survive its duplication by tribute performers and its dispersal into ephemera which is sold and re-sold by the memorabilia trade perhaps this is only because when it was made that pop had an emotional authenticity. The great fear, as I have frequently noted (see Intro; Chapter One; earlier in this chapter), is that today's pop has lost that sense of meaningfulness because it is only a representation of a representation of a copy of a pale reflection of an original object. As evidence of entropy the observation that "the gap between arrival on the pop scene and a presence at the rock auctions is getting smaller all the time" seems compelling (Record Collector, September 1997, 217, page 5).
Similarly, even Björn Again's manager is baffled by the existence of tributes to contemporary bands like Oasis (Appendix 1). Whilst I can only speculate as to the reasons for John Tyrrell's dislike of the likes of No Way Sis, there is a feeling abroad that Oasis are themselves essentially a tribute band, no more than "a cultural hologram of their heroes", The Beatles (Bracewell, 1997, page 229). In fact, the Britpop phenomenon of recent years (of which Oasis were considered leading lights) has a whole been derided as "heritage pop" (Bracewell, 1997, page 229 - see Intro). It is this notion which I shall be fully exploring in the following chapter.
Notes
1. A similar desire could also be said to lie behind the appreciation of the waxworks at Madame Tussauds as evinced by the many people having photographs taken standing next to their pop idols.
posted by Justin Toland at 2:41 pm
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