Flattery is the sincerest form of imitation
by Jon Worley

One of the big trends in popular music today is, well, pop music. Those of us in the music critic industry know the difference. Popular music is whatever is hitting the charts at a given time. Pop music is a very specific sub-genre of rock and roll, generally consisting of three chords and a verse-chorus-verse-chorus-bridge-chorus structure. Probably the most popular pure pop artist in recent memory is Michael Penn, though plenty of punk acts (most notably Green Day) also fairly closely adhere to the power pop format.

In the past three months, I must have reviewed 50 pop albums (out of about 220 total discs). Most are undistinguished, rote offerings, but as ever, a few bands do impress. The names Semisonic, Aftertax, China Drum, Gerald Collier and the Moths may not mean much to you, but they've all put out great albums recently. And every one of these bands owes a debt of some sort to the Posies and Treepeople.

During the grunge renaissance in Seattle in the later 1980s, a number of pop acts sprung up. Bands like Treepeople (originally from Boise, relocated to the Emerald City) strung non-linear lead guitar licks over highly distorted riffs, creating a truly tasty crunch. On the other side of the pop divide, the Posies crafted intricate harmonies, layering the sweet vocals over acoustic guitars and, well, highly distorted riffs. The two main Posies, Jon Auer and Ken Stringfellow, told everyone who would listen that in an ideal world, they'd make millions as a Big Star cover band. Indeed, the band recorded Big Star's "Feel" as the b-side for an early single.

Sixteen years ago, Big Star released its first album, #1 Record. Chris Bell, Alex Chilton (originally of Box Tops fame) and Jody Stephens replicated the spirit of the mid-sixties pop sound as epitomized by the Who, the Kinks, the Beatles and the Rolling Stones. Bell quit, came back and quit again. He did contribute some songs to the second album, Radio City, but by the time Third or Sister Lovers (the album has been released under both titles) was in the can, only Chilton remained (though Stephens did appear on some of the songs).

When the wave of Big Star nostalgia rose up in the early 90s, some friends of mine decided it would be cool to put on a "reunion" show. Chilton had already done a couple recent Box Tops shows, and when Stephens agreed, the only need was to find a suitable replacement for Bell, who died in 1978 in a one-car accident. This came in the form of Auer and Stringfellow from the Posies, who were positively thrilled to sit in with personal idols. Another friend of mine got Chilton properly baked, and the event went off without a hitch.

That show is commemorated on a live disc titled Columbia, which is where the concert occurred (the Columbia in question would be in Missouri, not South Carolina). A weird convergence between influence and influencees. Kinda like if Hendrix had survived long enough to play a set with Prince.

And yet, Big Star did not innovate. Bell and Chilton's intent was to replicate the British pop sound, which itself was an attempt to replicate the American pop sound as propagated by Chuck Berry, Carl Perkins and the Isley Brothers. And those artists simply were an extension of the rhythm and blues and rhythm and roll stars of the 40s and 50s. And so on and so forth.

Strangely, since the 60s British invasion very few pop acts (within these strictly defined boundaries) have made much of a sales splash in the U.S. Elvis Costello certainly has scored big, and Nick Lowe and Marshall Crenshaw both did well for a time. Brits, again, except for Crenshaw. While the occasional one-hit wonder broke through, there has not been much of a chart showing for this seminal element of rock and roll in the past 30 years.

And now that every record label (indie and major) seems to pushing a traditional pop act these days, it is instructive to look back upon the two most revered such acts of the last 20 years, Big Star and the Posies. Big Star sold about 20,000 copies of its albums combined while it was a viable act, and Geffen Records dropped the Posies when the band couldn't garner a gold album with their third major release. Critical acclaim doesn't pay the rent. Legendary status doesn't mean much when you've got to hitchhike to your next gig.

The sounds are divine. It's no wonder a thousand bands and more are clamoring to pick up the sound. Three chords are easy to master, even if crafting great music out of such humble beginning is a lot harder than it sounds. Can you write a good hook? Can you keep a single groove going through an entire song? Can you ride the edge between chaos and firmament without giving in to either?

Only the greats have managed such brilliance. And the greats are often astonishingly underappreciated in the marketplace. As long as the newest crop of replicants can find ways to advance the pure pop sound without caving into saccharine simplicity (Bay City Rollers, anyone?), the heart of rock and roll won't miss a beat.

Blood and Chocolate on the stereo, dreams of September Gurls in his head, Jon Worley settles down for a short springtime nap.

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