Whither Modern Rock?

This post began as a conversation in a Philly music club about a month ago. A band took the stage and began playing a type of rock music that to me was the quintessence of Modern Rock (capitals required).

"This," I yelled (it was loud), "is Modern Rock."

Some friends I was with wondered: Just what is Modern Rock? What distinguishes Modern Rock from good, contemporary rock? I thought about it. And thought about it. It's been rattling around for some time. Now the subject might seem untimely, but with the recent release of the Foo Fighters' Greatest Hits and the single "Wheels" -- a band and song that are illustrative of the history of Modern Rock -- now seems like a good time for a brief examination (this is a blog, after all) of the form.

Unlike a lot of contemporary indie rock that draws on the post punk of the late '80s and early '90s (Think Pixies, Sonic Youth, Dinosaur Jr., The Smiths), Modern Rock is a direct relative of the classic rock of the '70s. It's a big, muscular sound that can easily fill a stadium. The first Modern rock acts, to me, are the better-known, so-called grunge bands of the Northwest. Green River, Pearl Jam, Sound Garden, Alice in Chains and The Screaming Trees. These bands were all innovative in their own right, and a lot of their music is good. Or at least it was good at the time. Nirvana really never belonged in the conversation with these bands. Yes. They were loud, wore a lot of flannel and were from Seattle, but they were taking their cues from the Pixies, Dinosaur Jr. and The Meat Puppets, not Led Zeppelin or the Who.

In its early days, the music of Pearl Jam and Soundgarden sounded a lot like it was a reconnection with the great classic rock of the '60s and '70s. There were big anthems and awesome guitar solos. Rock band members looked like guys again. The well trussed and over-made-up likes of Bon Jovi, Poison, Motley Crue were immediately forgotten. This was a good thing.

But following the success of these bands (Nirvana included), big record companies raided the artist stables of small indie labels like Sub Pop, SST and Caroline and flooded the market with everything from Smashing Pumpkins to the Breeders. Some of these bands caught on. Others didn't. But a radio formula was perfected. Guitar solos became passe, but the muscular rock sound, the interplay of loud choruses and quiet verses and big male vocalists (Eddie Vedder was the gold standard) became important parts of radio success.

The next strategy for record companies after all the established indie acts were signed (and then dropped when they didn't sell) was to sign bands that fit the new formula. Stone Temple Pilot's first release, 1992's Core is a perfect example. To be fair, STP became more interesting with every subsequent release, but their early work is formulaic Modern Rock. It was Pearl Jam Cliff Notes: big guitar, big drum beats, anthemic choruses, gristly, angsty male vocalist. In fact STP's success cast them as the real beginnings of Modern Rock as a formula and not an organic musical movement. So influenced by record label was STP that they changed their name to satisfy Atlantic before Core was released (They were Mighty Joe Young and then Shirley Temple's Pussy). This does not smell of artistic purity, though to be fair, all three names are pretty bad.

The later half of the '90s was dominated by STP clones (I used to say these singers sounded like Scott Weiland sounding like Eddie Vedder) as Soundgarden broke up and Pearl Jam retreated into a decidedly anti-corporate and overly pensive period. Reprehensible rock acts like Everclear, Papa Roach, Fuel, Seether, Nickleback and worst of all, Creed dominated the radio with big, anthemic rock garbage that still has a heavy influence on the so-called alternative rock radio of today. (I can't even bring myself to account for the so-called rap rock horror show of Limp Bizkit and to a lesser extent, but no less irritating, Linkin Park). By this time, Modern Rock was hardly even a sound anymore. It was a fashion statement. It was a style as easy to slip into as a pair of old Levis

Modern Rock claimed college rock as its antecedent, but it had nothing in common with the great college rock of the early '90s. It was big and bloated. It was loud, but it was essentially pop. It was the soundtrack of the frat house. The college kids, always looking to react against the prevailing tastes, did so in many ways. The early aughts saw the garage rock revival of The White Stripes and The Strokes and the dark and funky post punk of Franz Ferdinand and Interpol. It was a sideways move: The new stuff was angular, nor as masculine (in that neanderthal sort of way) as Modern Rock, but it was still loud. I think Modern Rock wrought the very pensive, ambient sounds of today's indie rockers like Animal Collective, Grizzly Bear, Deerhunter, etc. The quiet, folksy chamber pop of these "new big things" to me sound like a reaction to the testosterone overdose of Modern Rock.

Which brings us full circle to the new Foo Fighters song, "Wheels." The Foo Fighters claim a lineage to several terrific bands of the '90s. Front man Dave Grohl was the drummer of Nirvana. Bass Player Nate Mendel is a founding member of Sunny Day Real Estate. But the Foo Fighters are really Grohl's band. The really great self titled debut in 1995 was essentially all Grohl. The songs were demos he wrote and recorded waiting for Kurt Cobain to show up to record or rehearse. That first album is a blistering power-pop, punk, well, I'll say it, masterpiece.

But it wasn't long before Grohl began to send Foo Fighters down the Modern Rock road (and too a lot more commercial success). The Colour and the Shape has some great songs, but the sharp punk attitude of the debut is already quite faded. "My Hero," an overly nostalgic mess of a song was a big hit and set the stage for much to follow. Grohl was still good. On every album he'd have some good songs, but the bad was catching up with him. "Wheels" sounds like it could have been recorded by Bon Jovi. It's sentimental, banal and smoothly produced. It's lifeless. It has nothing in common with the Foo Fighters of 1995.

The forces of Modern Rock can be seen pretty well in the production of the last Kings of Leon album, Only by Night. Kings started out as a sort of Appalachian Strokes but got slicker every time out. Their third album, Because of the Times, was, in my opinion, a really brilliant, challenging rocker that got lost at times but still seemed vital. It clearly didn't sell enough. Only by Night is focused and slick but the crazed Americana that made the first two records, Youth and Young Manhood and Aha Shake Heartbreak, so good is nowhere in the mix. It just wasn't radio ready, I guess. The Followills are too strange, perhaps, to ever be lumped in with Bon Jovi, but I fear what their next album will sound like. If it's like the Foo fighters, another good band will have bit the dust (apologies to Freddie Mercury).

Modern Rock was a formula that did more to kill the vitality of the form than nearly anything I can think of. It is only fitting that its heyday was the final days of big music. As CD sales decline, and big pop anthems become fewer and further between, Modern Rock hangers-on have all the vitality of a string quartet (my apologies to the Kronos Quartet). I don't necessarily think rock is dead, so to speak. There's plenty of vital stuff out there, but it seems like its piece of the listening pie is getting leaner and leaner. In 20 years if we're wondering how rock died, the answer is Modern Rock in all its excessive, radio-friendly awfulness.