by Steve Haruch
We're always glad when people are
able to see Nashville as something other than the country music blah blah blah of the blah blah. Except maybe when people see it as the national crossroads of mediocrity and suckitude! Cold on the heels of the whole Das Racist vs. Sasha Frere-Jones "hip-hop-is-dead-no-it's-not" Internet/haiku dust-up comes Chris Milam (originally from Memphis) with a post over at PopMatters called "Bored New World: How the Zach Braff Prototype Is Slowly Killing American Music." Milam describes the unbearable whiteness of Braff Rock while more or less calling Nashville its epicenter, if epicenter is the right word to use with wimpy music that barely moves.
In coffeehouses across America skinny-jeaned lads talk about themselves talking about themselves and trade iPods in this, their own personal Cameron Crowe dramedy.
Zing, and from a guy who knows the names of film directors.
MySpace cyber-hocks chubby prep schoolers as Johnny Folk Hero, uninspired girls rejoice, and countless mix tapes are drafted for kids who don't love each other back, while everyone everywhere who has nothing better to do--and the means to do it--sings along in the plaintive falsetto of their privileged soul. And I'm here, in the back of the room, in a smokeless Nashville concert hall, wondering why the guy onstage is singing into his guitar lifelessly and, even more so, why everyone else in the room is listening.
Welcome to the Art of Self-Entitlement.
Oh no, mediocre indie rock is ruining America. Since, uh, 2004, around the time that this article would have been news. Aw. Not that people aren't still crapping out the tenderoni, of course, especially here in old Nashville town.