(Tell-Tale Heart/Town Crier Ray Brandes turns the guilty-pleasure principle on its head.)
Inspired by Megan’s take on “Guilty Pleasures,” I’ve been considering those musical acts, films and books and pieces of art often hailed by critics as “brilliant,” and “ groundbreaking” but that fail to float my boat in the least.
We’re often told what to like by the “experts.” College professors devote their lives to the Western canon of literature, music and art which has been passed down like a sacred text from the wise ancients. Those most loathsome of creatures — rock-music critics — frequently publish self-congratulatory surveys of most influential rock artists, while film critics gather frequently to laud the greatest cinematic masterpieces of all time.
But let’s face it: While many of us can appreciate a work of art for its technical proficiency or for its influence on other artists, many of us are often left scratching our heads in bemusement. If I fail to be moved by an artist generally recognized as brilliant, does that somehow make me boorish, uncivilized and unsophisticated?
At the risk of being labeled a Philistine, I have never been able to understand what both the cognoscenti and the unwashed masses find so interesting about certain musical acts, films and books. Here are a few cases in point:
- Bruce Springsteen: Rock critic Jon Landau once famously wrote after seeing a Bruce Springsteen concert: “I saw rock and roll’s future, and its name is Bruce Springsteen. And on a night when I needed to feel young, he made me feel like I was hearing music for the very first time.” Really? Because he bores me to tears with his automobile metaphors and heartland anthems. And watching middle America fall for that flag-waving, populist working man’s rhetoric makes me feel like I’m at a Nuremberg rally.
- U2: With their melodramatic howling-at-the-moon vocals; uninspiring guitar noodling; and pretentious, pseudo-religious lyrics, this group long ago became a parody of itself.
- Forrest Gump (and anything else starring Tom Hanks): I’m completely underwhelmed by Tom Hanks. I liked him in “Bosom Buddies,” but since then he’s churned out nothing but bland, boring, lifeless movies that people flock to see. And while we’re on the subject of films, I’d like to add Quentin Tarrantino and Rob Reiner to the ranks of the overrated.
- Robin Williams: Judging from the riotous laughter that seems to explode all around him when he performs, I sometimes get the feeling that I’m the only one in the room who wants to shoot himself in the head every time that man opens his mouth.
- Nirvana: People have been worshipping at the shrine of Kurt Cobain for 15 years now, so I understand this one is a little controversial. I find Nirvana to be likeable, but not that much different from scores of other late ’80s/early ’90s groups inspired by their older brothers’ hardcore bands. Kurt Cobain was a good singer but a formulaic songwriter (I much prefer the songwriting of Dave Grohl) who hit the jackpot when MTV decided to play “Smells Like Teen Spirit” six or seven times a day for several months.
I could go on and on — Prince, Jackson Pollock, the Doors, Carlos Santana, the Cure, Andy Warhol, Madonna, Ernest Hemingway (yes, Ava, me too) — but I’d prefer to make the confessional available to our beloved readers. So now it’s your turn: What are you supposed to like but don’t?
— Ray Brandes