Unless you've been napping for the past 20 years, you know that Rock is dead. That’s right, I said it. And before you say “Ok, boomer,” gone are the days when sneaking off to rock shows was a rite of passage, replaced now by 15-second TikTok backdrops.
While some bands today act like rockers because they occasionally pick up a guitar, Rock-n-Roll left the building long ago. And Boygenius just won Grammys for best rock performance and best rock song? Seriously? Let’s conduct an autopsy to determine Rock’s cause of death.
Rock's Golden Age
After trailblazers like Little Richard, Chuck Berry, Big Mama Thornton, and countless other Black rhythm and blues artists set the stage for what became “Rock-n-Roll” in the 1950s and Elvis was coronated as the King, the genre entered a golden era in the 1960s and 70s.
Once upon a time guitar solos lasted longer than most current pop songs when legends Jimi Hendrix and Jimmy Page wielded their axes through "Forests of Azure" and the Grateful Dead kept on Truckin before Jerry Garcia’s premature demise, and the heart of gold band morphed into that corporate concoction, Dead & Co. Talk about a slow train coming, yikes!
Fast forward to today, and guitar gods have been replaced by bedroom geeks with a laptop and a SoundCloud account. While there's undeniable talent in contemporary music – artists like Billie Eilish and Finneas didn’t get there by accident – I still miss the visceral thrill of a live guitar solo or a Phil Lesh bass bomb. How about you?
The Beats On Death Row
Dare I say that Rap busted a cap in Rock’s ass? Hip Hop has proved itself more than a fad—it's ingrained in our culture. Unlike Rock's descent into the hades of "classic rock" radio stations, hip-hop has continually evolved with beats and rhymes reflecting the pulse of a new generation.
From block parties in the boogie-down Bronx to headlining the biggest music festivals around the globe, Rap has filled the void. It's still rebel music, 50 years later, telling stories of struggles with the Po-Po and everything in between with a rawness that was once the hallmark of Rock.
Bob Dylan once remarked that "rappers are serious street poets hurling horses over cliffs.” That’s pretty high praise from a Nobel Laureate. And don’t forget, Kendrick Lamar was awarded a Pulitzer Prize in 2018 for his “Damn” album. Then again, Jay-Z sounded like a grumpy old man the other night, and Snoop Dog was last seen smoking spliffs with Martha Stewart – what the hell?We Don’t Need No Autotune
Remember when a singer's voice had character? Every crack, every off-pitch note had a human touch. But then, autotune entered the scene, smoothing out every imperfection so that songs are more polished but sterile.
Rock's raw emotion and imperfection don't jibe with this trend. Now, the airwaves are dominated by voices so perfect they sound as if they've been manufactured in a lab. In today's streaming scene, pop music reigns supreme.
Every playlist and "Top Hits" chart is a shiny, auto-tuned object. This isn't your mom and dad’s pop (pun intended), with its catchy choruses and merry melodies. Today's Pop Muzak is sleek and algorithm-friendly, designed to hook listeners with earworms, not anthems. The end product is endless tracks that disappear from cultural memory as quickly as they arrive.
Rock's Swan Song
Streaming has been a double-edged sword for music. On one hand, it democratized music production and distribution, allowing anyone with talent (and a good Wi-Fi connection) to share their art with the world.
On the other, it's signaled the death knell for the traditional album format, a staple of the rock genre. Playlists, not albums, are where it's at, making it harder for rock bands to craft the kind of cohesive narratives for which bands like Pink Floyd and The Who were known.
But then, it was Frank Sinatra who introduced one of the first concept albums “In the Wee Small Hours” in 1955 – a long, long time ago. Now, the concept of the album—an art form in itself—has been driven deep beneath a sea of playlists titled "Chill Vibes" and "Study Beats."
Rock's Resurrection?
To paraphrase Joni Mitchell, "They took all the rock stars and put'em in a Hall of Fame Museum." Maybe there’s a flicker of hope that rock will rise from the ashes. Perhaps it's waiting for the next Hendrix to arrive or for the next Dylan to return from the wilderness to blow our minds Like a Rolling Stone. Until then, Long Live Rock!
Dare I say that Rap busted a cap in Rock’s ass? Hip Hop has proved itself more than a fad—it's ingrained in our culture. Unlike Rock's descent into the hades of "classic rock" radio stations, hip-hop has continually evolved with beats and rhymes reflecting the pulse of a new generation.
From block parties in the boogie-down Bronx to headlining the biggest music festivals around the globe, Rap has filled the void. It's still rebel music, 50 years later, telling stories of struggles with the Po-Po and everything in between with a rawness that was once the hallmark of Rock.
Bob Dylan once remarked that "rappers are serious street poets hurling horses over cliffs.” That’s pretty high praise from a Nobel Laureate. And don’t forget, Kendrick Lamar was awarded a Pulitzer Prize in 2018 for his “Damn” album. Then again, Jay-Z sounded like a grumpy old man the other night, and Snoop Dog was last seen smoking spliffs with Martha Stewart – what the hell?
We Don’t Need No Autotune
Remember when a singer's voice had character? Every crack, every off-pitch note had a human touch. But then, autotune entered the scene, smoothing out every imperfection so that songs are more polished but sterile.
Rock's raw emotion and imperfection don't jibe with this trend. Now, the airwaves are dominated by voices so perfect they sound as if they've been manufactured in a lab. In today's streaming scene, pop music reigns supreme.
Every playlist and "Top Hits" chart is a shiny, auto-tuned object. This isn't your mom and dad’s pop (pun intended), with its catchy choruses and merry melodies. Today's Pop Muzak is sleek and algorithm-friendly, designed to hook listeners with earworms, not anthems. The end product is endless tracks that disappear from cultural memory as quickly as they arrive.
