This week, I wanted to take things in a seasonal direction. Given that Saturday is July 4, Independence Day itself, I wanted to find a song that was definitive of American music. After all, you can’t blow off fireworks without some American music playing in the background, providing a soundtrack for a patriotic moment that speaks to this country’s identity.
The more that I thought about it, the more that I came to this conclusion:
Do you like American musicI like American musicDon't you like American music baby
That’s when it became clear. As someone who was never a fan of the ra-ra flag waving of your Lynrd Skynrd’s, I find my flavor coming from these oddball corners of the world. Or in this case, it’s Milwaukee, WI. It’s not just the home of this year’s future NBA championship winners (why would you bet against Giannis Antetokuonmpo?). It’s also home to one of the most successful alternative rock bands of the 1980s, who helped to popularize the folk-punk genre with their own brand of music that featured acoustic basses, playing snare drum with brushes, and singing songs that may or may not be about drug addiction.
Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to The Memory Tourist the singular Violent Femmes!
On the one hand, I feel sad to know that the era of hearing Violent Femmes on the radio seems to have passed. To go back even to the early 2000’s, they were this strange staple on KROQ. Sure you heard “Blister in the Sun” way too many times, but you also had a chance to revel in the deep cuts, appreciating the comedic eccentricity of “Add It Up” and “Kiss Off.” If you haven’t had the joy of cranking these up on the radio, your life is severely empty.
The more that I prepared for this column, the more that I found myself growing nostalgic for that time. Even if it was arguably past their heyday, they still had a vitality to them that was simultaneously this audacious joke and something deeply sincere. You couldn’t explain why they didn’t just have a traditional combo, but that would’ve taken something away. To hear an aggressive breakdown, often on an acoustic guitar and bass, is to witness something powerful. They weren’t going for popularity. They were true to their own vision, and I find it infinitely infectious.
To be transparent, I’ve probably played “American Music” six or seven times over the past few days. It’s a terrible earworm. I am not entirely sure that I understand what it means, but I get caught up in the melody every time. Gordon Gano’s nasally vocals hit the sweet spot every time, sounding like a dorky preacher, but a hip one who is a bit too open about his life pre-conversion. You are drawn in because Gano has this aura. He’s sincere about every note.
On the surface, it’s folk music that can be misconstrued as fun. Everything feels inventive and challenging the subject matter that this genre often covers. With that said, I love that it manages to be a flavor of angry punk that is a bit milquetoast, serving more as this invisible force trying to break out. Each song is an exorcism, waiting to destroy your concept of reason. This is the music of a band that shouldn’t be so popular decades later, reaching a Southern California radio station with minor hits played a few times a week. And yet they are, and I admire that.
They’re a band lost from any significant era, following their own trail. You either get it or you don’t. For me, it’s one of those strange things that has transcended any gimmick and just became good wholesome music. I found myself thinking several times a week if I secretly loved the Violent Femmes. On the one hand, their hits are inevitable. You’re thankful that these songs exist. Though if I’m being honest, I never got into their more spiritual songs (“Jesus Walking on the Water”) since they were so sincere that if they were a joke I didn’t get it and if they were sincere I wasn’t interested.
With that said, they do qualify as one of those bands you wouldn’t expect to see on my list of artists that I’ve seen twice. Back in 2005 and 2006, Orange County held these wild New Year’s Eve concerts that had four or five stages. On the one sanctioned by Indie 103.1 (R.I.P.), Violent Femmes were one of the headliners. They would be so successful that by the next year they would move over to the main stage, which was the only outside one.
I was in the front row in 2005 since the line-up on that stage was one of the more interesting sets that night: I was having a great time and hunkered in for the long haul. I knew Violent Femmes well enough that I could sing along to the big hits, but it was one of those atmospheric shows you’d hope for. The crowd was engaged (why else would they be promoted to the main stage?) and our journey together to New Year’s Day was a special one. After all, where else would you get hundreds of people yelling “Eight, eight, I forget what eight was for” in the middle of a great set?
It was surreal at points mostly because I hadn’t really assessed what the band was like. I admired how Brian Ritchie played an acoustic bass through the entire set. You wouldn’t think that such a mellow instrument could rock that hard, but it did. So did the brush-and-drum set. On the one hand it was just your average concert crammed into a bigger night. However, I was front row and taking in every note, watching this band evolve from a handful of hits into this more complicated band. They had slower songs, they had faster songs. They were like a milquetoast roller coaster, knowing how to keep people from being overwhelmed. As far as retro acts that they got for the evening went, I hadn’t seen one that left as much of an impression as they did.
Then there was a moment that transcends their entire career for me. Because of where I was standing, I had the unfortunate placement in front of a rotating light that hit my face every 10 seconds. It was annoying. During one of their slower songs, as Gano is vibing to the melody, he looked out at the crowd and gave this warm smile. It was one saying that everything will be all right. I know that I’m reading into it, but it felt like he was looking directly at me, apologizing for this inconvenience and hoping that I was having a good time. That last part was true.
Anyways, there was something about that concert especially that made them endearing to me. I would stumble out of the venue and meet up with people for the headliner, Sugar Ray. Life would continue, but as I watched the “American Music” music video, I found myself having this nostalgia for that time. I wasn’t aware that they had briefly broken up between 2009 and 2014 or that they got into various lawsuits. It honestly felt like they continued to endure, playing those shows and bringing new fans to their cult.
If I’m being honest, there isn’t much to talk about with this song. I wouldn’t call the lyrics nonsensical, but they definitely aren’t substantial or reflective of a deeper theme. If I had to guess what it’s all about, it’s a parody of American music throughout the decades. I think of the dreamy pop of the 1950’s, recalling imagery like prom, lakes, and moon where balladeers sang these beautiful tunes about romance. Because Gano sounds like an outcast, he can’t help but sound like a loser when he does it, but it has an endearing optimism to it that you can’t help but latch onto.
There’s endless contradictions, such as lines line “I was born too late, you were born too soon,” itself a cliché on the lyrical gimmick of being born out of time. Gano’s looking for a place in this American music, an acceptance that makes more sense since Violent Femmes don’t exactly scream Top 40.
It may be why the one time he howls, it’s for the passage “I take too many drugs!” It’s a jarring disconnect from the innocent imagery before. In my mind, it’s recalling an evolution of music from the 1950s to the 1970s, when you had people like Ringo Star singing “The No No Song” sarcastically. There is an acknowledgment that the unspoken party he’s singing to has done too many drugs as well. There is a copacetic quality to things, and it’s all done through this aw-shucks endearment.
By the time things speed up, it’s the sound of everything going faster, more nonsensical. American music doesn’t quite look the same as it did when Gano first popped the question. If you haven’t had the opportunity, please track down them performing this song live, where it pretty much looks like someone pressed 2x on a remote as the song reaches its climax. It’s amazing how in control they are at that speed. The finale sounds like we’re looking into the future of American music. The music video shares this concept as it finds interstitial segments cutting to parodies of various forms of old timey music videos. It’s got that sincere yet goofy vibe you’d expect from Cry-Baby (1991), and it all works beautifully.
The music video isn’t exactly the most innovative thing ever, but it does have another fun detail in that the room fills up with elderly fans when Gano sings “I did too many drugs.” It’s a subtle detail, but one that has a delightful amount of interpretations.
To me, “American Music” is a clever catchall that’s simultaneously mocking it as a genre (it isn’t) and exploring how it has evolved. Every lyric has this duality and opposition with another line, showing how things have changed and each generation aren’t able to agree on what constitutes American music. It’s a frustrating place to be, especially since Violent Femmes doesn’t fit perfectly into a box. Are they American music? Is the joke that they’re not? Does any of this matter at all?
Whatever it is, the song works as this piece of nostalgia through an anarchic lens. Even the band’s vague roots in punk feels indicative of some subtext. Still, it’s fun to listen to this song and try to determine what it’s all about. The lyrics are so vague and unmotivated that it can be considered garbled nonsense, taking clichés and giving them a Katy Perry “Roar”-style structure. Unlike that Perry song, its vapidness is endearing and probably has more to say than “Yay me!”
Personally it makes me nostalgic for those two concerts when I realized how vital they still were. I can’t remember what songs they played, nor does it matter. The energy was something that transcends, making me feel lucky for being in that room. Together we were enjoying the last moment of our year together, about to itself be a form of fond memories. All I have now is the image of Gano smiling at me, asking me to relax and enjoy the evening.
I don’t know that “American Music” is really the most sincere patriotic tune you could play. It’s frankly Mad Libs compared to the brazen nature of other less subtle bands. I guess that’s what makes me love Violent Femmes more. I don’t really know if they like American music. Even if they tell me they do, I can’t be sure how serious they are. All we have are these memories, evolving and changing, and at some point we just have to accept it for what it is. It’s corny, nonsensical, and yet speaks to something inside all of us. Why else would we continue to sing along every time?
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