Chuck Klosterman On Pop Part 4

Except, of course, the part about geezers needing excitement, lest they create violence. And everything else, really.

After ninety minutes in the interrogation room, I convince Skinner to go to a tavern across the street called the Barley Mow Pub. As we leave the Coalition office, we pa.s.s the desk of a publicist who has made dozens of photocopies of a Rolling Stone Rolling Stone story about The Streets, headlined "England's Eminem." I suspect Skinner gets that a lot. We leave the building and look for an ATM, and I ask him what he thinks of the comparison (and if he'd seen Eminem's semi-autobiographical film story about The Streets, headlined "England's Eminem." I suspect Skinner gets that a lot. We leave the building and look for an ATM, and I ask him what he thinks of the comparison (and if he'd seen Eminem's semi-autobiographical film 8 Mile 8 Mile).

"Oh, I suppose it's because we're both white and we both tell stories," he says, only mildly interested in the question. "I'm not as angry as he is, although I don't think he's as angry as he is, either. I quite liked 8 Mile, 8 Mile, though. It was sort of like though. It was sort of like The Karate Kid, The Karate Kid, you know? Have you seen you know? Have you seen The Karate Kid The Karate Kid? Very similar kind of thing."

I mention that most Americans compared 8 Mile 8 Mile to Prince's semi-autobiographical film to Prince's semi-autobiographical film Purple Rain. Purple Rain.

"Oh, was that alb.u.m based on a movie? I had no idea. Good songs on that one, though." He briefly impersonates Prince, somewhat less convincingly than when he sarcastically impersonated Thom Yorke while discussing his sister's love of Radiohead.

In truth, the rational connection between Eminem and The Streets is almost nonexistent; if not for a shared lack of pigment, they'd never be mentioned in the same sentence. For one thing, The Streets operate in a genre of hip-hop categorized as "garage" (p.r.o.nounced to rhyme with the word marriage, marriage, at least in the U.K.). Though the difference is subtle, the garage designation ostensibly means that most music on a Streets record only has two beats per measure; conventional rock, rap, and techno usually have four. But there's also a philosophical difference between Marshall Mathers and Mike Skinner that makes the latter especially compelling; he's arguably the first significant hip-hop artist to completely remove the element of race from his music. Eminem addresses his race tangibly (the second track on his last LP was t.i.tled "White America"). Seminal Caucasian rappers like the Beastie Boys always seemed hyperconscious of their whiteness; when their first alb.u.m came out in 1986, just about everyone a.s.sumed the Beastie Boys were mocking black culture. Their racial iconography was always an issue. So when a record like at least in the U.K.). Though the difference is subtle, the garage designation ostensibly means that most music on a Streets record only has two beats per measure; conventional rock, rap, and techno usually have four. But there's also a philosophical difference between Marshall Mathers and Mike Skinner that makes the latter especially compelling; he's arguably the first significant hip-hop artist to completely remove the element of race from his music. Eminem addresses his race tangibly (the second track on his last LP was t.i.tled "White America"). Seminal Caucasian rappers like the Beastie Boys always seemed hyperconscious of their whiteness; when their first alb.u.m came out in 1986, just about everyone a.s.sumed the Beastie Boys were mocking black culture. Their racial iconography was always an issue. So when a record like Original Pirate Material Original Pirate Material includes no references whatsoever to race, it's oddly jarring; it's like listening to a Christian rock alb.u.m and noticing they never mention Jesus. includes no references whatsoever to race, it's oddly jarring; it's like listening to a Christian rock alb.u.m and noticing they never mention Jesus.

When I ask Skinner about this, he perceives the answer to be self-evident: he says segregation does not exist in England. He mentions how he used to love listening to records by Compton gangstas like Snoop Doggy Dogg, but that Snoop seemed to live on an altogether different planet. Quite simply, being white is something Skinner never thinks about. "When I first got into this, all anyone ever talked about was being real," he says. "I was actually terrified of making anything that wasn't real, because that seemed to be the whole thing. That's why I don't talk about race very much. It wouldn't be real for me."

Nelson George, the author of Hip-Hop America, Hip-Hop America, is not surprised. is not surprised.

"It's all about context," Nelson says when I ask about the significance of Skinner's race-free worldview. "MCs in America are obsessed with race. In England, MCs are obsessed with cla.s.s."

In the case of Skinner, that's true, although his obsession is built on the belief that the cla.s.s system notion is ridiculously anachronistic. "The really posh people in England are the only ones who still care about cla.s.s," he says. "n.o.body our age thinks like that anymore. I mean, even people on the dole have TV. They still have the Internet. That's why the people who still worry about cla.s.s have become less concerned with how much money someone has. Now, cla.s.s is all about breeding, breeding, because that's all they have left to separate themselves." because that's all they have left to separate themselves."

Because so much of his material comes (or at least appears appears to come) from the perspective of a lower-middle-cla.s.s ruffian, The Streets has been consistently portrayed as a representative of the working cla.s.s. This is not really true; Skinner hates the working-cla.s.s designation and insists his life has been relatively easy. He's been painted as a prototypical backstreet kid from Birmingham, the bleak industrial city that's musically best known for sp.a.w.ning Black Sabbath. This is also partially inaccurate; Skinner lived in Birmingham for several years, but he was born in London and returned there for good three years ago ("I never really picked up the Birmingham accent," he says). Still, his persona as a cultural intruder is not a complete fabrication. He is not working cla.s.s because of poverty, but he's driven by working-cla.s.s common sense. to come) from the perspective of a lower-middle-cla.s.s ruffian, The Streets has been consistently portrayed as a representative of the working cla.s.s. This is not really true; Skinner hates the working-cla.s.s designation and insists his life has been relatively easy. He's been painted as a prototypical backstreet kid from Birmingham, the bleak industrial city that's musically best known for sp.a.w.ning Black Sabbath. This is also partially inaccurate; Skinner lived in Birmingham for several years, but he was born in London and returned there for good three years ago ("I never really picked up the Birmingham accent," he says). Still, his persona as a cultural intruder is not a complete fabrication. He is not working cla.s.s because of poverty, but he's driven by working-cla.s.s common sense.

"What I hate about London is that there are so many loafers claiming to be artists," he says at the pub. "I was raised on function. If you have a job in Birmingham, you're a waitress. You sell insurance. You build something people can use.

"A few years ago, I was working for a company here in London. I stuffed envelopes. Now, this company had been given something like fifty thousand quid during the Internet craze-but I could not figure out what they did. And I'm a pretty clever bloke. I guess they were technically selling bandwidth, but all they really did was put on nice shirts in order to convince people to repackage something that didn't exist in the first place. That-to me-sums up London."

This story is funny, but it's also important, or at least it is to me. It's important because that's pretty much how I felt when I moved to New York, and it's probably the reason certain American outsiders relate to Original Pirate Material Original Pirate Material with a depth that defies logic or geography. For reasons I could never fully fathom, the Geezer Culture Skinner so often describes in song always reminded me of Midwestern slacker culture from the early 1990s: it puts the same emphasis on thought over action. It feels the same resentment toward privilege. And it embraces the experience of the nonevent-Skinner is a genius at describing what it's like to do nothing. This is why he can tell personal stories that feel general, and it's why The Streets can resonate with listeners who don't even know what he's necessarily talking about. His stories don't matter; what matters is the way he tells them. The realities may be different, but all the details are the same. with a depth that defies logic or geography. For reasons I could never fully fathom, the Geezer Culture Skinner so often describes in song always reminded me of Midwestern slacker culture from the early 1990s: it puts the same emphasis on thought over action. It feels the same resentment toward privilege. And it embraces the experience of the nonevent-Skinner is a genius at describing what it's like to do nothing. This is why he can tell personal stories that feel general, and it's why The Streets can resonate with listeners who don't even know what he's necessarily talking about. His stories don't matter; what matters is the way he tells them. The realities may be different, but all the details are the same.

"Look, you don't know my background. You've never been to where I'm from," Skinner says. "But there is something about the way I talk that makes you understand, right? So it doesn't matter what I do. If my next record is about flying in a private jet and drinking champagne2 with my girlfriend Jennifer Lopez, with my girlfriend Jennifer Lopez,3 and then Jennifer Lopez dumps me, you'll be able to understand that as much as you can understand when I talk about seeing some brunette bird at a pub or when I talk about watching Courtney c.o.x on the telly or anything else. D'know what I mean?" and then Jennifer Lopez dumps me, you'll be able to understand that as much as you can understand when I talk about seeing some brunette bird at a pub or when I talk about watching Courtney c.o.x on the telly or anything else. D'know what I mean?"

Sort of. However, it still seems like there's something Skinner's not telling me. Even though we're in a pub, he refuses to drink, opting instead for orange juice. He says this is because he's just coming off antibiotics, but I don't believe him. We talk a little about video games (his current favorite is Getaway, Getaway, the U.K. version of the U.K. version of Vice City Vice City), and about what he likes and dislikes about the United States (he loves the fact that Americans value and reward success, but he thinks too many Americans exist in a "culture of intellectual laziness"). Nothing he tells me is outrageously illuminating. But just before he leaves to go do "something" (he wouldn't say what), we chat about why certain things happen and why certain people end up in certain situations. And then Skinner offhandedly mentions something that might show a glimpse of the impetuous, working-cla.s.s Streets that represent the generation he's supposedly voicing. It's the culture of cerebral underthinking.

"See that tap over there on the bar?" Skinner says, pointing toward the pub's business end. "Let's say someone told me to remove it right now. I'd most likely just take a screwdriver and take it apart immediately. I'd never unhook the hoses underneath or anything like that, and I'd probably p.i.s.s beer all over myself. I'm a doer. I just do things."

I mention that this is a strange metaphor, and he agrees. But I'm not sure what he thinks he's agreeing with. Is he agreeing that it's strange to remove a beer tap without unhooking its hoses, or is he agreeing that it's strange to remove a public beer tap simply because somebody told him to do so?

"That's a good point," he says, and I suspect he might mean it, because he genuinely seems confused. "I don't know. I'm a thinker, I guess, but sometimes things just need to be done."

So I guess it's all true: sometimes, things just need to be done. There doesn't need to be a reason. Geezers don't need a reason. Geezers need excitement. Geezers need something else.

1. And I'm sure the details of this editing process are absolutely fascinating to you, aren't they?

2. Or becoming addicted to cocaine, at least if one were to consider the content of his third alb.u.m, 2006's The Hardest Way to Make an Easy Living The Hardest Way to Make an Easy Living. In fact, I almost get the impression Skinner started abusing cocaine just so he would have something interesting to rap about.

3. Or some unnamed, crack-smoking teen superstar, as described in the song "When You Wasn't Famous." Skinner was a very forward-thinking geezer.

Q: You are placed in the unenviable position of having to compete for the right to stay alive. You are placed in the unenviable position of having to compete for the right to stay alive.

You will be matched against a person of your own gender in a series of five events-an 800-meter run, a game of Scrabble, a three-round boxing match, a debate over the legalization of late-term abortion (scored and officiated by reputable collegiate judges), and the math portion of the SAT.

In order to survive, you must win at least three of these events (your opponent will be playing for his or her life as well). However, you (kind of) get to pick your opponent: you can either (a) compete against a person selected at random, or (b) you can compete against someone who is exactly like you. If selected at random, the individual could be of any age or skill level-he/she might be an infant with Down syndrome, but he/she might also be an Academic All-American line-backer from Notre Dame. If you pick "the average human," he/she will be precisely your age and will have an identical level of education, and the person will be a perfect cross-section of your particular demo-graphic-he/she will be of average height and of average weight, with a standard IQ and the most normative life experience imaginable.

So whom do you select? Or-perhaps more accurately-do you feel that you are better than an average version of yourself?

CERTAIN ROCK BANDS YOU PROBABLY LIKE If you are the kind of person who talks about music too much, there are two words that undoubtedly play an integral role in your day-to-day lexicon: overrated overrated and and underrated. underrated. This is because those two sentiments const.i.tute 90 percent of all musical discussions; people are constantly discussing who they think is overrated and who they think is underrated. This is because those two sentiments const.i.tute 90 percent of all musical discussions; people are constantly discussing who they think is overrated and who they think is underrated.

What's interesting about this phenomenon is the way no one seems to use the same criteria for either of those terms. For example, a band can be cla.s.sified as overrated because they sell more records than a certain logic might dictate (Creed, 311, Bad Company), or they can be overrated because certain rock critics seem to like them too much (Sonic Youth, Wilco, Yo La Tengo). Artists can be underrated if they sell a lot of records but aren't widely regarded as brilliant (Thin Lizzy, Duran Duran), or they can be underrated because almost no one in the world seems to know who they are (Tortoise, Sloan, Lifter Puller). Bands can be overrated if they're canonized as indisputably great when they're only very good (U2, Madonna, the Eagles), and artists can be underrated if everyone thinks they're terrible when they're actually okay (Limp Bizkit, No Doubt, and-once again-Creed). Bands can be overrated because they're good-looking (the Lemonheads in 1993), or they can be underrated because they're good-looking (the Lemonheads in 1994). Some groups can be overrated and underrated at the same time (Radiohead). Some groups seem overrated on purpose (Oasis). Some groups seem eternally underrated because-no matter how hard they try-they're just not as interesting as groups who are overrated on purpose (Blur). It is very easy to be underrated, because all you need to do is nothing. Everyone wants to be underrated. It's harder to become overrated, because that means someone has to think you were awesome before they thought you sucked. n.o.body wants to be overrated, except for people who like to live in big houses.

But I am not interested in overrated and underrated bands.

That argument is too easy, and all it means is that somebody else was wrong. I'm far more interested in "rated" bands. I'm obsessed with bands who are rated as accurately as possible-in other words, n.o.body thinks they're better than they actually are, and n.o.body thinks they're worse.

They have the acceptable level of popularity, they have attained the correct amount of critical acclaim, and no one is confused about their cultural significance. They are, in essence ...

THE TEN MOST ACCURATELY RATED ARTISTS IN ROCK HISTORY!

10. The Black Crowes: Their first alb.u.m sold five million copies, which is precisely the right number. Stoned people like this band, drunk people think they're okay, and sober people disregard the overwhelming majority of their catalogue. This all makes perfect sense. By all possible standards, the Black Crowes are rated accurately. Their first alb.u.m sold five million copies, which is precisely the right number. Stoned people like this band, drunk people think they're okay, and sober people disregard the overwhelming majority of their catalogue. This all makes perfect sense. By all possible standards, the Black Crowes are rated accurately.

9. Madness: This is one of only two ska bands admired by people who hate ska (the other being the Specials, who are overrated). n.o.body disputes this admiration. "Our House" was a pretty great single, but it's n.o.body's This is one of only two ska bands admired by people who hate ska (the other being the Specials, who are overrated). n.o.body disputes this admiration. "Our House" was a pretty great single, but it's n.o.body's favorite favorite song; n.o.body seems to dispute that a.s.sertion, either. song; n.o.body seems to dispute that a.s.sertion, either.

8. Triumph: Always a.s.sociated with Rush and/or the nation of Canada, but not as good as either. Always a.s.sociated with Rush and/or the nation of Canada, but not as good as either.

7. Tone-Lc: Hardly anyone takes Tone-L Hardly anyone takes Tone-Lc seriously, except for frivolous pop historians who like to credit him for making suburban white kids listen to rap music that was made by black people (as opposed to the Beastie Boys, who made white suburban kids listen to rap music that was made by nonsuburban white kids). This lukewarm historical significance strikes me as sensible. Neither of Mr. Lc's. .h.i.ts are timeless, although "Wild Thing" samples Van Halen's "Jamie's Cryin'" (which I like to imagine is about M*A*S*H M*A*S*H star Jamie Farr, had Corporal Klinger pursued s.e.xual-rea.s.signment surgery in an attempt to get a Section 8) and "Funky Cold Medina" samples "Christine Sixteen" (at a time when KISS was making records like star Jamie Farr, had Corporal Klinger pursued s.e.xual-rea.s.signment surgery in an attempt to get a Section 8) and "Funky Cold Medina" samples "Christine Sixteen" (at a time when KISS was making records like Hot in the Shade Hot in the Shade and n.o.body in America thought they were cool except for me and Rivers Cuomo). Those two songs were actually cowritten with Young MC, whose single "Bust a Move" is confusing for the following reason: The last verse of "Bust a Move" states, "Your best friend Harry / Has a brother Larry / In five days from now he's gonna marry / He's hopin' you can make it there if you can / Cuz in the ceremony you'll be the best man." Now, why would anybody possibly be the best man in a wedding where the groom is your best friend's and n.o.body in America thought they were cool except for me and Rivers Cuomo). Those two songs were actually cowritten with Young MC, whose single "Bust a Move" is confusing for the following reason: The last verse of "Bust a Move" states, "Your best friend Harry / Has a brother Larry / In five days from now he's gonna marry / He's hopin' you can make it there if you can / Cuz in the ceremony you'll be the best man." Now, why would anybody possibly be the best man in a wedding where the groom is your best friend's brother brother? Why isn't your best friend the best man in this ceremony? And who asks someone to be their best man a scant five days before they get married? And while I realize the incongruities of "Bust a Move" have absolutely nothing to do with Tone-Lc, it somehow seems more central to Tone-Lc's iconography than his role in the movie Posse, Posse, which was arguably the best movie about black cowboys I saw during the grunge era. which was arguably the best movie about black cowboys I saw during the grunge era.

6. My b.l.o.o.d.y Valentine: On the surface, it would seem like My b.l.o.o.d.y Valentine should be underrated, but they're not; everyone who cares about pop-o-centric guitar music considers On the surface, it would seem like My b.l.o.o.d.y Valentine should be underrated, but they're not; everyone who cares about pop-o-centric guitar music considers Loveless Loveless to be a modern cla.s.sic, and everyone who is wont to mention "swirling guitars" during casual conversation inevitably references that specific alb.u.m. to be a modern cla.s.sic, and everyone who is wont to mention "swirling guitars" during casual conversation inevitably references that specific alb.u.m. Loveless Loveless sold something like two hundred thousand copies. This is the correct amount of people on earth who should care about the concept of swirling guitars; any number higher or lower than two hundred thousand would be ridiculous. sold something like two hundred thousand copies. This is the correct amount of people on earth who should care about the concept of swirling guitars; any number higher or lower than two hundred thousand would be ridiculous.

5. Matthew Sweet: Everyone knows that every Matthew Sweet alb.u.m has only one good song, and that this good song is inevitably the first single, and that this single is always utterly perfect ("Sick of Myself" off Everyone knows that every Matthew Sweet alb.u.m has only one good song, and that this good song is inevitably the first single, and that this single is always utterly perfect ("Sick of Myself" off 100% Fun, 100% Fun, "Where You Get Love" off "Where You Get Love" off Blue Sky on Mars, Blue Sky on Mars, "Girlfriend" off "Girlfriend" off Girlfriend, Girlfriend, etc.). He sells enough alb.u.ms to live comfortably, and that seems reasonable. etc.). He sells enough alb.u.ms to live comfortably, and that seems reasonable.

4. The Beatles: The Beatles are generally seen as the single most important rock band of all time, allegedly because they wrote all the best songs. Since both of these suppositions are true, the Beatles are rated properly by everyone. The Beatles are generally seen as the single most important rock band of all time, allegedly because they wrote all the best songs. Since both of these suppositions are true, the Beatles are rated properly by everyone.

3. Blue oyster Cult: The BoC song everyone pays attention to is the suicide anthem "Don't Fear the Reaper." This song is haunting, but not in a good way; it makes me nostalgic for hating the Moody Blues. However, the BoC song virtually no one pays attention to is the pro-monster plod-a-thon "G.o.dzilla," and that track is monster-crushingly beautiful. So-in final a.n.a.lysis-Blue oyster Cult is accurately rated The BoC song everyone pays attention to is the suicide anthem "Don't Fear the Reaper." This song is haunting, but not in a good way; it makes me nostalgic for hating the Moody Blues. However, the BoC song virtually no one pays attention to is the pro-monster plod-a-thon "G.o.dzilla," and that track is monster-crushingly beautiful. So-in final a.n.a.lysis-Blue oyster Cult is accurately rated by accident. by accident. This occurs on occasion; the same phenomenon happened to Scottie Pippen. This occurs on occasion; the same phenomenon happened to Scottie Pippen.

2. The New Radicals: There are only five facts publicly known about this musical ent.i.ty. The first is that 1999's "You Get What You Give" was an almost flawless Todd Rundgrenlike masterwork that makes any right-thinking American want to run through a Wal-Mart semi-naked. The second is that n.o.body can remember the singer's name. The third fact is that the singer often wore a profoundly idiotic hat. The fourth fact is that if this anonymous, poorly hatted singer had made a follow-up alb.u.m, it would have somehow made his first record seem worse. And the fifth fact is that his alb.u.m didn't quite deserve to go gold. Accurately rated in totality. There are only five facts publicly known about this musical ent.i.ty. The first is that 1999's "You Get What You Give" was an almost flawless Todd Rundgrenlike masterwork that makes any right-thinking American want to run through a Wal-Mart semi-naked. The second is that n.o.body can remember the singer's name. The third fact is that the singer often wore a profoundly idiotic hat. The fourth fact is that if this anonymous, poorly hatted singer had made a follow-up alb.u.m, it would have somehow made his first record seem worse. And the fifth fact is that his alb.u.m didn't quite deserve to go gold. Accurately rated in totality.

1. Van Halen: This band should have been the biggest arena act of the early 1980s, and they were. They had the greatest guitar player of the 1980s, and everyone (except possibly Yngwie Malmsteen) seems to agree on this point. They switched singers and became semi-c.r.a.ppy (except for the middle four songs on This band should have been the biggest arena act of the early 1980s, and they were. They had the greatest guitar player of the 1980s, and everyone (except possibly Yngwie Malmsteen) seems to agree on this point. They switched singers and became semi-c.r.a.ppy (except for the middle four songs on 5150 5150 and the booze cla.s.sic "Cabo Wabo"), and n.o.body aggressively disputes that reality. They also recorded the most average song in rock history: "And the Cradle Will Rock." What this means is that any song better than "And the Cradle Will Rock" is good, and any song worse than "And the Cradle Will Rock" is bad. If we were to rank every rock song (in sequential order) from best to worst, "And the Cradle Will Rock" would be right in the f.u.c.king middle. and the booze cla.s.sic "Cabo Wabo"), and n.o.body aggressively disputes that reality. They also recorded the most average song in rock history: "And the Cradle Will Rock." What this means is that any song better than "And the Cradle Will Rock" is good, and any song worse than "And the Cradle Will Rock" is bad. If we were to rank every rock song (in sequential order) from best to worst, "And the Cradle Will Rock" would be right in the f.u.c.king middle.

And that is exactly what I want.

-SPIN, 2005 2005

The Pa.s.sion of the Garth 1 Half the energy I've spent writing (and reading) about music over the past fifteen years has been preoccupied with the same problem: "Is this thing I'm writing about Half the energy I've spent writing (and reading) about music over the past fifteen years has been preoccupied with the same problem: "Is this thing I'm writing about real real?" It wasn't something that always needed to be addressed directly, but it was always there. Is this artist genuine? Do his songs speak to an actual experience? Is the persona of this music's creator the same as who the creator is? What is the fidelity of these recorded sounds? Were the guitars actually synthesizers? Were the synthesizers actually guitars? What is the ultimate motive of the musician, and does that motive match the aspirations of his audience? These issues have formed the spinal cord of what music journalism inevitably is-the search for authenticity and the debate over how much authenticity matters. And certain conclusions finally seem apparent: 1. Nothing is completely authentic. Even the guys who kill themselves are partially acting.

2. Music that skews inauthentic is almost always more popular in the present tense. Music that skews toward authenticity has more potential to be popular over time, but also has a greater likelihood of being unheard completely.

3. In general, the best balance seems to come from artists who are (kind of) fake as people, but who make music that's (mostly) real. This would be people like Bob Dylan. The worst music comes from the opposite situation, such as songs by TV on the Radio that aren't about wolves. If the singer is fake and and the music is fake (Scott Weiland, Madonna, Bing Crosby), everything works out okay. the music is fake (Scott Weiland, Madonna, Bing Crosby), everything works out okay.

4. Normal people don't see any of this as a particularly pressing problem. They do not care. A few critics do, but that's about it.

5. The most telling moment for any celebrity is when he or she attempts to be inauthentic on purpose, on purpose, and particularly when that attempt fails. and particularly when that attempt fails.

Like most Americans, I've lost interest in the first three conclusions. The fourth conclusion isn't interesting either, although the overwhelming truth of that sentiment makes it worth remembering. But the fifth point remains compelling. It speaks to the core confusion most humans have about who they truly are, and it ill.u.s.trates why fame does not seem to make most famous people happy. When an artist successfully becomes somebody else, the result is defining and eternal: It's David Bowie morphing into Ziggy Stardust and becoming greater than either himself or the character. But when such a transformation fails, the original artist disappears into something else. He disappears into himself, and everybody gets sad and uncomfortable and inexplicably obsessed with all those authenticity issues they never cared about before.

This is what happened with Chris Gaines.

2 Rock writer Rob Sheffield once drunkenly argued that the supernatural success of nondescript country artist Garth Brooks was a social reaction to the temporary absence of Bruce Springsteen. This is the type of argument so simultaneously obvious and unseen that only someone as supernaturally brilliant as Rob Sheffield could possibly make it. There's a lot of evidence to support his theory: Springsteen essentially disappeared from America from 1988 to 1999. He even moved from New Jersey to L.A., casually claiming that building a new house in Jersey would be like Santa Claus building a new home at the North Pole. For roughly a decade, Springsteen stopped being Springsteen; he released a couple introspective alb.u.ms, but he was not the man Americans knew. Garth filled that void by selling over a hundred million records. He created the Era of Garth. Brooks didn't always write his own material, but he made songs that satisfied all the same needs that Bruce's did, except with a little less sincerity and a better understanding of who his audience was. "Friends in Low Places" was as effective as pop music ever gets: It's a depressing song that makes you feel better. Singing along with that song was like drunkenly laughing at a rich person and knowing you were right. "Friends in Low Places" addressed cla.s.s in the style of Pulp's "Common People," was as emotionally obtuse as Nazareth's "Hair of the Dog" and as pragmatic and mystical as BoC's "(Don't Fear) The Reaper." Rock writer Rob Sheffield once drunkenly argued that the supernatural success of nondescript country artist Garth Brooks was a social reaction to the temporary absence of Bruce Springsteen. This is the type of argument so simultaneously obvious and unseen that only someone as supernaturally brilliant as Rob Sheffield could possibly make it. There's a lot of evidence to support his theory: Springsteen essentially disappeared from America from 1988 to 1999. He even moved from New Jersey to L.A., casually claiming that building a new house in Jersey would be like Santa Claus building a new home at the North Pole. For roughly a decade, Springsteen stopped being Springsteen; he released a couple introspective alb.u.ms, but he was not the man Americans knew. Garth filled that void by selling over a hundred million records. He created the Era of Garth. Brooks didn't always write his own material, but he made songs that satisfied all the same needs that Bruce's did, except with a little less sincerity and a better understanding of who his audience was. "Friends in Low Places" was as effective as pop music ever gets: It's a depressing song that makes you feel better. Singing along with that song was like drunkenly laughing at a rich person and knowing you were right. "Friends in Low Places" addressed cla.s.s in the style of Pulp's "Common People," was as emotionally obtuse as Nazareth's "Hair of the Dog" and as pragmatic and mystical as BoC's "(Don't Fear) The Reaper."1 It's a song that makes me want to get drunk out of It's a song that makes me want to get drunk out of spite spite. Garth told stories about blue-collar people who felt good about what their bad life symbolized, which is the same reason Born to Run Born to Run will never seem unimportant. Now, are the songs on will never seem unimportant. Now, are the songs on No Fences No Fences as good as the material on as good as the material on Nebraska Nebraska? No. But Garth understood an entire population of Americans he would never meet. I don't know if Garth Brooks could necessarily relate to the ma.s.ses who loved his music, but they could relate to him. They f.u.c.king knew who he f.u.c.king was, because he made them feel like themselves.

And I think he felt weird about being able to do this.

And that's not unusual. And that's why certain things happened.

2A I don't have a lucid memory of what the world was like in 1999; it seems more distant to me than 1989, for whatever reason. I do know music was still selling like crazy, though: Total alb.u.m sales in '99 were 940 million. What was playing on the radio still mattered, and most of it was mainstream alternative rock or Santana's I don't have a lucid memory of what the world was like in 1999; it seems more distant to me than 1989, for whatever reason. I do know music was still selling like crazy, though: Total alb.u.m sales in '99 were 940 million. What was playing on the radio still mattered, and most of it was mainstream alternative rock or Santana's Supernatural Supernatural. There was a certain kind of semi-heavy, quasi-spiritual, midtempo track that could be three years old but still get endless airplay-Creed's "My Own Prison" was omnipresent at the bars and malls and Applebee's I was frequenting at the time. The most popular single in the world was "Livin' la Vida Loca," a song about how Pro Tools made Puerto Ricans gay. There were a lot of bands who selected random numerical names on purpose (Matchbox 20, Third Eye Blind, Seven Mary Three), and there were a lot of people trying to convince themselves that a double alb.u.m by Nine Inch Nails wasn't ridiculous. Two disposable teens killed a bunch of beautiful people in suburban Colorado for reasons completely unrelated to Marilyn Manson, but traffic at Hot Topic improved nonetheless. Meanwhile, I was storing potable water and Oreo cookies in my hall closet; I was obsessed with Y2K, which negatively impacted my interest in things like TLC. At the time, TLC was advising me not to hang around with scrubs. This was kind of like their advice from 1994 about not chasing waterfalls. I never got that. Why not chase waterfalls? They're so easy to chase. It would have been far more sensible if deceased arsonist Lisa Left Eye had told me not to chase something dangerous, like wildebeests. "Don't go chasing wildebeests." It was that kind of millennium. People cared about s.h.i.t, but not really.

It was into this hazy malaise that Chris Gaines emerged, widely noticed but generally unattacked (this being the pre-blog age). The big reveal/marketing initiative happened on Sat.u.r.day Night Live, Sat.u.r.day Night Live, a program that's always fun to read about but almost never fun to watch: Brooks hosted the November 13 show with alter-ego Gaines as the musical guest, as if they were two different, unrelated people. The fact that I was even watching this program clearly suggests (a) the SEC football game on ESPN must have been a blowout and (b) I had a drug problem. There was also a fake VH1 a program that's always fun to read about but almost never fun to watch: Brooks hosted the November 13 show with alter-ego Gaines as the musical guest, as if they were two different, unrelated people. The fact that I was even watching this program clearly suggests (a) the SEC football game on ESPN must have been a blowout and (b) I had a drug problem. There was also a fake VH1 Behind the Music Behind the Music about Chris Gaines, although I never caught that; I think it might have aired during the Iron Bowl. But about Chris Gaines, although I never caught that; I think it might have aired during the Iron Bowl. But anyway, anyway, all initial logic suggested that this was just an unorthodox way to promote all initial logic suggested that this was just an unorthodox way to promote The Lamb, The Lamb, the fictionalized biopic of Gaines's "life" that was supposed to hit theaters in early 2000 but never actually came into existence. At the time, most people made the same a.s.sumption as me. But Garth had his own unique perspective: His concern over the transformation dwelled almost exclusively on its consumer viability. the fictionalized biopic of Gaines's "life" that was supposed to hit theaters in early 2000 but never actually came into existence. At the time, most people made the same a.s.sumption as me. But Garth had his own unique perspective: His concern over the transformation dwelled almost exclusively on its consumer viability.

"So the big question is this," Brooks said at the time. "If we don't have the traditional first week, that 'Garth Brooks week' that we've been so fortunate to have [in the past]-is [the new alb.u.m] going to be deemed a failure? I'm hoping that Chris gets a chance, like all new artists, gets to come out and then hopefully word of mouth gets around and he starts to pick up and gain speed, and starts to actually live and breathe like artists do."

On the surface, this statement does not seem strange; it sounds like the normal kind of bulls.h.i.t major recording stars offer up when they have to give twenty interviews in two days. But it is is strange, and not just because Garth is talking about a different person and himself at the same time. It's strange because Brooks is obsessed with the one thing that he did not need to reinvent himself to achieve-mainstream commercial success. His motive for becoming a different person was to become the person he already was, minus the hat. strange, and not just because Garth is talking about a different person and himself at the same time. It's strange because Brooks is obsessed with the one thing that he did not need to reinvent himself to achieve-mainstream commercial success. His motive for becoming a different person was to become the person he already was, minus the hat.

Even more than the alb.u.m itself, the liner notes to In the Life of Chris Gaines In the Life of Chris Gaines (the fake Chris Gaines anthology) indicate a specificity of confusion that's too abnormal to be insignificant. The opening pages of the CD booklet show a photo of Gaines standing in an industrial kitchen, clad in black; its facing page is a biography of our nonexistent musician, presumably explaining what would have become the narrative thread for (the fake Chris Gaines anthology) indicate a specificity of confusion that's too abnormal to be insignificant. The opening pages of the CD booklet show a photo of Gaines standing in an industrial kitchen, clad in black; its facing page is a biography of our nonexistent musician, presumably explaining what would have become the narrative thread for The Lamb The Lamb (had it ever been produced). The biographical details (had it ever been produced). The biographical details2 are explicit, charming, and stupid in the manner one might expect. But more curious is the emphasis Brooks placed on chronicling the chart success of Gaines's career: He notes that Gaines's first imaginary solo alb.u.m spent "an extraordinary 224 weeks" in the Billboard Top 200 before winning a Grammy. His second imaginary alb.u.m, the s.e.xually "dark and angry" are explicit, charming, and stupid in the manner one might expect. But more curious is the emphasis Brooks placed on chronicling the chart success of Gaines's career: He notes that Gaines's first imaginary solo alb.u.m spent "an extraordinary 224 weeks" in the Billboard Top 200 before winning a Grammy. His second imaginary alb.u.m, the s.e.xually "dark and angry" Fornucopia, Fornucopia, debuted at number one and spent eighteen weeks at the top of the charts. His imaginary 1994 alb.u.m debuted at number one and spent eighteen weeks at the top of the charts. His imaginary 1994 alb.u.m Apostle Apostle spent eight imaginary weeks at number one "without any artist promotion." It's almost as if Brooks was honestly dreaming of a world where he did not exist, so he felt obligated to create a musician whose career would fill the commercial void left by the disappearances of spent eight imaginary weeks at number one "without any artist promotion." It's almost as if Brooks was honestly dreaming of a world where he did not exist, so he felt obligated to create a musician whose career would fill the commercial void left by the disappearances of No Fences No Fences and and Ropin' the Wind Ropin' the Wind.

In his imagination, Garth knocked himself out of the Billboard charts with himself.

2B In the Life of Chris Gaines In the Life of Chris Gaines ended up selling two million copies in two months, a relative failure in the musical economy of 1999. ended up selling two million copies in two months, a relative failure in the musical economy of 1999.3 It got as high as number two on the Billboard charts, but it never had a "Garth Brooks week," just as its creator feared. And while It got as high as number two on the Billboard charts, but it never had a "Garth Brooks week," just as its creator feared. And while feared feared might be too strong a verb, it's not far off: Garth Brooks really, really cared about record sales. I can't think of any artist who ever cared about sales more. Which is not to say Brooks was obsessed with might be too strong a verb, it's not far off: Garth Brooks really, really cared about record sales. I can't think of any artist who ever cared about sales more. Which is not to say Brooks was obsessed with money, money, because that's totally different-the Rolling Stones care deeply about money, but they don't give a s.h.i.t how it's acquired. If Kiss could make more money farming than playing in a band, Gene Simmons would immediately sign an endors.e.m.e.nt contract with John Deere. Jimmy Page is probably counting his money because that's totally different-the Rolling Stones care deeply about money, but they don't give a s.h.i.t how it's acquired. If Kiss could make more money farming than playing in a band, Gene Simmons would immediately sign an endors.e.m.e.nt contract with John Deere. Jimmy Page is probably counting his money right now, right now, as you read this very sentence. The desire for wealth complicates artistic vocation, but it doesn't tell us much about the music. What Garth cared about more were statistics. Like a nongambling Pete Rose, Brooks was consumed by the magnitude of his own numbers: With career alb.u.m sales over 128 million, he is currently the bestselling solo artist of all time. This was not happenstance: At Brooks's request, some outlets slashed the retail price of his late nineties alb.u.ms to guarantee ma.s.sive opening-week sales. "I believe in the Wal-Mart school of business," Brooks has said. "The less people pay, the more they enjoy it." After he released a double live alb.u.m in 1997, Capitol Records put out a press release chronicling his dominance in random U.S. cities: A Media Play in Rockford, Illinois, sold three hundred alb.u.ms when the alb.u.m went on sale at midnight. Tower Records in Sacramento sold four hundred copies in two hours. A Sam Goody in California sold out of the CD in two hours. Some outlet called Gallery of Sound in Edwardsville, Pennsylvania, sold a thousand copies on opening day. Brooks has received twenty-four Billboard Music Awards, an honor based solely on quantifiable unit moving. All his concerts sell out (in 2007, he played nine straight "comeback" shows in Kansas City's Sprint Center, selling 23,750 tickets on every single night). No other nineties artist comes close to his dominance. For ten years, Brooks was twice as popular as U2 and REM as you read this very sentence. The desire for wealth complicates artistic vocation, but it doesn't tell us much about the music. What Garth cared about more were statistics. Like a nongambling Pete Rose, Brooks was consumed by the magnitude of his own numbers: With career alb.u.m sales over 128 million, he is currently the bestselling solo artist of all time. This was not happenstance: At Brooks's request, some outlets slashed the retail price of his late nineties alb.u.ms to guarantee ma.s.sive opening-week sales. "I believe in the Wal-Mart school of business," Brooks has said. "The less people pay, the more they enjoy it." After he released a double live alb.u.m in 1997, Capitol Records put out a press release chronicling his dominance in random U.S. cities: A Media Play in Rockford, Illinois, sold three hundred alb.u.ms when the alb.u.m went on sale at midnight. Tower Records in Sacramento sold four hundred copies in two hours. A Sam Goody in California sold out of the CD in two hours. Some outlet called Gallery of Sound in Edwardsville, Pennsylvania, sold a thousand copies on opening day. Brooks has received twenty-four Billboard Music Awards, an honor based solely on quantifiable unit moving. All his concerts sell out (in 2007, he played nine straight "comeback" shows in Kansas City's Sprint Center, selling 23,750 tickets on every single night). No other nineties artist comes close to his dominance. For ten years, Brooks was twice as popular as U2 and REM combined combined.

This is interesting for lots of reasons, but particularly for one: Since his semi-retirement in 2000, Brooks has inexplicably evaporated from the public consciousness. His highest-profile moment was covering Don McLean's "American Pie" at an inaugural ball for president-elect Obama in 2009. Modern country radio rarely plays his music, and he isn't yet viewed as part of the "cla.s.sic country" contingent. None of his songs have become standards. I spent a weekend in Nashville and went to half the honky-tonks on Broad Street, and I didn't hear his music once. He already seems half as famous as Brad Paisley.

So why did this happen? How does someone this beloved not become a legend once he's absent? It wasn't like Brooks was a Lou Reedlevel jerk, or even a Clint Blacklevel jerk. He was always magnanimous and respectful toward his princ.i.p.al influences (George Strait and George Jones) and once played five sold-out shows in L.A. for charity. Yet the minute he stepped out of the room, n.o.body cared. And I think the reason this happened is the same reason Brooks tried to become Gaines in '99: His persona was somehow real and fake at the same time. It was real in the sense that it was not contrived or imaginative-he was just the same normal guy he always was. It was fake in the sense that it was unnaturally straightforward-it's impossible for a normal person to sell 128 million alb.u.ms, or even to want want to sell 128 million alb.u.ms. And Brooks seemed to understand that. There was eventually a three-p.r.o.nged disconnect between (a) who Garth thought he was, (b) who the audience thought Garth was, and (c) how Garth a.s.sumed his audience to sell 128 million alb.u.ms. And Brooks seemed to understand that. There was eventually a three-p.r.o.nged disconnect between (a) who Garth thought he was, (b) who the audience thought Garth was, and (c) how Garth a.s.sumed his audience wanted wanted to think of him. So he tried to connect those dots through Chris Gaines, and he failed. But that aborted reinvention tells us more about Brooks than anything else he's ever done. It exposes the confusing truths that had always been there, lurking unnoticed. to think of him. So he tried to connect those dots through Chris Gaines, and he failed. But that aborted reinvention tells us more about Brooks than anything else he's ever done. It exposes the confusing truths that had always been there, lurking unnoticed.

3 In the late 1960s, when three (or at least two) of the four Beatles had started to lose interest in being "the Beatles," Paul McCartney gave an interview where he mentioned how it would be fun to re-form the Beatles under a different name and to wear masks on tour, thereby allowing the band to perform without the responsibility of being who they were. Supposedly, McCartney was shocked and disappointed when the journalist informed him that everyone would immediately figure out who they were the moment they started singing. The first time I read this story was in the introduction to In the late 1960s, when three (or at least two) of the four Beatles had started to lose interest in being "the Beatles," Paul McCartney gave an interview where he mentioned how it would be fun to re-form the Beatles under a different name and to wear masks on tour, thereby allowing the band to perform without the responsibility of being who they were. Supposedly, McCartney was shocked and disappointed when the journalist informed him that everyone would immediately figure out who they were the moment they started singing. The first time I read this story was in the introduction to The Bachman Books, The Bachman Books, a collection of four Stephen King novels written under the pseudonym Richard Bachman. King's intro is t.i.tled "Why I Was Bachman." a collection of four Stephen King novels written under the pseudonym Richard Bachman. King's intro is t.i.tled "Why I Was Bachman."

Because King directly mentions McCartney in his essay, one a.s.sumes he must have related to Paul's desire, which would explain why he wrote books with a fake name. But this is not accurate. McCartney-seemingly unaware of how distinctive his preexisting ident.i.ty was-wanted to play music without ha.s.sle and cultural meaning. He wanted an artistic life with less pressure, where the only thing that mattered was his own experience. King-keenly aware of how his preexisting persona was impacting his work's perception-wanted to see if his success was based on authentic skill or established celebrity (at one point in "Why I Was Bachman," he begrudgingly notes that the book Thinner Thinner sold 28,000 copies when published under the Bachman moniker but 280,000 when rereleased as a King t.i.tle). He wanted an artistic life with sold 28,000 copies when published under the Bachman moniker but 280,000 when rereleased as a King t.i.tle). He wanted an artistic life with more more pressure, where the only thing that mattered was how audiences consumed the literal content. pressure, where the only thing that mattered was how audiences consumed the literal content.

Now, I'm certain Brooks did not make In the Life of Chris Gaines In the Life of Chris Gaines because he thought it would be easier; he probably did more promotion for this alb.u.m than any other. because he thought it would be easier; he probably did more promotion for this alb.u.m than any other.4 But is it possible that Gaines was his version of Bachman? The transformation wasn't masked and anonymous, but it provided an opportunity to test the actual parameters of his enormity. He was easily the biggest artist in the country-western idiom, but critics (of course) still questioned his realness; if he were able to sell eight million alb.u.ms in the more judgmental, less forgiving world of rock, all those prior criticisms would be moot. Realness would no longer matter-the sound of his voice would transcend everything. If he could sell records as Chris Gaines, it would mean he could sell records as anybody. It would prove he was great (or at least that he had established a certain kind of greatness). But this is the problem with finding oneself through the numerical calculation of one's commercial achievement: It only makes sense the first time it happens. After that, it keeps perpetuating itself, over and over and over again. It starts to seem like it isn't based on anything. So maybe the only way to make it feel real is to do something that But is it possible that Gaines was his version of Bachman? The transformation wasn't masked and anonymous, but it provided an opportunity to test the actual parameters of his enormity. He was easily the biggest artist in the country-western idiom, but critics (of course) still questioned his realness; if he were able to sell eight million alb.u.ms in the more judgmental, less forgiving world of rock, all those prior criticisms would be moot. Realness would no longer matter-the sound of his voice would transcend everything. If he could sell records as Chris Gaines, it would mean he could sell records as anybody. It would prove he was great (or at least that he had established a certain kind of greatness). But this is the problem with finding oneself through the numerical calculation of one's commercial achievement: It only makes sense the first time it happens. After that, it keeps perpetuating itself, over and over and over again. It starts to seem like it isn't based on anything. So maybe the only way to make it feel real is to do something that doesn't doesn't succeed, just to demonstrate that the work itself actually played a role in whatever made you good in the first place. succeed, just to demonstrate that the work itself actually played a role in whatever made you good in the first place.

2C In 2008, hyper-Christian DirecTV advocate Beyonce Knowles released In 2008, hyper-Christian DirecTV advocate Beyonce Knowles released I Am . . . Sasha Fierce I Am . . . Sasha Fierce. This record is princ.i.p.ally remembered for the song "Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)," arguably the first song overtly marketed toward urban bachelorette parties. The original hook of the alb.u.m, however, was the concept of Knowles becoming "Sasha Fierce," a character Entertainment Weekly Entertainment Weekly described as her "sensual, aggressive alter-ego." During an appearance on described as her "sensual, aggressive alter-ego." During an appearance on Oprah, Oprah, Beyonce described Sasha Fierce in the same way; in fact, I believe she used the same exact words. The whole time she spoke with Winfrey, Beyonce appeared to be working off a script, once misspeaking in a manner that made it obvious she'd rehea.r.s.ed the entire conversation. I don't know who came up with the Sasha Fierce concept, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't G.o.d. Beyonce claims Ms. Fierce was invented during the making of "Crazy in Love" in 2003, but the whole thing seemed so unnatural and out of character that the only explanation can be strategy. Somewhere along the line, somebody important came to the conclusion that there is a segment of Knowles's audience who likes to imagine that Beyonce's secret personality is erotic and confrontational and street. Someone concluded that making this personality into a product would expand the brand (and maybe it did). But as an artistic creation, Sasha Fierce did not work. It only excites those who desperately want to be fooled. When Sasha covered Alanis Morissette's "You Oughta Know" in concert, it was far more entertaining than provocative. It did not make her personality more complex; mostly, it reminded people that Beyonce doesn't really have any personality at all. She loves Christ, she loves her husband, she sings reasonably well, and she's beautiful. That's the whole package. Becoming a different person only served to make that all the more obvious, because it seemed like she was trying to Beyonce described Sasha Fierce in the same way; in fact, I believe she used the same exact words. The whole time she spoke with Winfrey, Beyonce appeared to be working off a script, once misspeaking in a manner that made it obvious she'd rehea.r.s.ed the entire conversation. I don't know who came up with the Sasha Fierce concept, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't G.o.d. Beyonce claims Ms. Fierce was invented during the making of "Crazy in Love" in 2003, but the whole thing seemed so unnatural and out of character that the only explanation can be strategy. Somewhere along the line, somebody important came to the conclusion that there is a segment of Knowles's audience who likes to imagine that Beyonce's secret personality is erotic and confrontational and street. Someone concluded that making this personality into a product would expand the brand (and maybe it did). But as an artistic creation, Sasha Fierce did not work. It only excites those who desperately want to be fooled. When Sasha covered Alanis Morissette's "You Oughta Know" in concert, it was far more entertaining than provocative. It did not make her personality more complex; mostly, it reminded people that Beyonce doesn't really have any personality at all. She loves Christ, she loves her husband, she sings reasonably well, and she's beautiful. That's the whole package. Becoming a different person only served to make that all the more obvious, because it seemed like she was trying to guess guess what a cool person might act like. what a cool person might act like.

It was the same for Garth. His self-portrait of Chris Gaines-a sullen, post-Nevermind alt rocker who aspired to compete against bands like Cake and Marcy Playground-resembles an attempt at sarcasm by the FBI's witness protection program. His decision to grow a soul patch pretty much said it all: In the ten-thousand-year history of facial hair, no one has ever looked nonidiotic with a soul patch. In fact, the zenith of the soul patch's legacy was Matt Dillon in alt rocker who aspired to compete against bands like Cake and Marcy Playground-resembles an attempt at sarcasm by the FBI's witness protection program. His decision to grow a soul patch pretty much said it all: In the ten-thousand-year history of facial hair, no one has ever looked nonidiotic with a soul patch. In fact, the zenith of the soul patch's legacy was Matt Dillon in Singles; Singles; Dillon grew a soul patch specifically Dillon grew a soul patch specifically because because he was portraying an alt rock d-bag. Gaines's hair is likewise confused; it's styled in that severe, midlength manner all the hair metal dudes adopted after grunge convinced them to record their version of he was portraying an alt rock d-bag. Gaines's hair is likewise confused; it's styled in that severe, midlength manner all the hair metal dudes adopted after grunge convinced them to record their version of Superunknown Superunknown. He's dressed completely in black from the neck down, except when he wears a black-and-white leotard. But still. He does not look like a rock 'n' roll machine. He looks like somebody who should be trying to a.s.sa.s.sinate Castro for Gerald Ford. And unlike Sasha Fierce, I suspect the look for Chris Gaines was totally Garth's vision-an amalgamation of all the signifiers of modern rock, tied together by his desire to be liked by both (a) the kind of person who typically disliked him and (b) the kind of person who would like him no matter what he did. As it turns out, there were exactly two million consumers in that second category. But it was the jerks in that first category who mattered more, and they knew he was guessing all along. This, oddly, is the one musical situation where authenticity does does matter: If you want to adopt an unnatural persona, that persona needs to be an extension of the person you secretly feel like. You have to be "authentically pretending." You have to be the only person who could have become the character you embody. This is why Ziggy Stardust never seemed like a Halloween costume. It's also why Chris Gaines felt like marketing, even if that hadn't been the intention. He was crazy, but he wasn't matter: If you want to adopt an unnatural persona, that persona needs to be an extension of the person you secretly feel like. You have to be "authentically pretending." You have to be the only person who could have become the character you embody. This is why Ziggy Stardust never seemed like a Halloween costume. It's also why Chris Gaines felt like marketing, even if that hadn't been the intention. He was crazy, but he wasn't singularly singularly crazy. He wasn't crazy enough. crazy. He wasn't crazy enough.

4 What will always remain unclear, of course, is what would have happened if Chris Gaines had made a song that people legitimately loved. What will always remain unclear, of course, is what would have happened if Chris Gaines had made a song that people legitimately loved. In the Life of Chris Gaines In the Life of Chris Gaines technically gave Brooks the biggest pop single of his career ("Lost in You," which was evidently supposed to sound a little like an upbeat incarnation of Tracy Chapman's "Fast Car"), but virtually no one remembers that this track even exists. Brooks wrote none of the material on technically gave Brooks the biggest pop single of his career ("Lost in You," which was evidently supposed to sound a little like an upbeat incarnation of Tracy Chapman's "Fast Car"), but virtually no one remembers that this track even exists. Brooks wrote none of the material on In the Life of Chris Gaines In the Life of Chris Gaines; the majority of it was penned by two ex-members of the Christian rock group White Heat. It was produced by Don Was, a Grammy award winner who's best known for being the white dude with dreadlocks who produced the worst Stones alb.u.ms of all time, walked the dinosaur, and generally talks like he's full of s.h.i.t. Several of the songs were tied to the nonexistent movie The Lamb The Lamb: "Maybe" was pegged as a tribute to Gaines's fictional dead friend Tommy, supposedly a huge Fab Four fan (the melody falls somewhere between late-era Beatles and lazy-era Oasis, and one of the lyrics is "Even though the bird has flown"). What's disappointing about In the Life of Chris Gaines In the Life of Chris Gaines is that it's supposed to be a creative overview of Gaines's entire fake life, but the songs all sound like they come from the same period (the "earliest" track, something called "My Love Tells Me So," does not resemble anything that could have been popular in 1985, even in a c.o.ke commercial). The goal of every song on is that it's supposed to be a creative overview of Gaines's entire fake life, but the songs all sound like they come from the same period (the "earliest" track, something called "My Love Tells Me So," does not resemble anything that could have been popular in 1985, even in a c.o.ke commercial). The goal of every song on In the Life of Chris Gaines In the Life of Chris Gaines was to become the male equivalent of Sheryl Crowe's "All I Wanna Do"-an accessible single that n.o.body would necessarily love but that most people would offhandedly like (and that could thereby inhabit AOR stations and drive alb.u.m sales for ten to eighteen months). What he wanted was a quiet smash, and he did not get it. was to become the male equivalent of Sheryl Crowe's "All I Wanna Do"-an accessible single that n.o.body would necessarily love but that most people would offhandedly like (and that could thereby inhabit AOR stations and drive alb.u.m sales for ten to eighteen months). What he wanted was a quiet smash, and he did not get it.

But let's a.s.sume that he did.

Let's pretend some song off In the Life of Chris Gaines In the Life of Chris Gaines resonated with rock audiences the way "The Thunder Rolls" had resonated with country listeners. Let's say his new success mirrored his old success. Let's say he guessed right. What would have happened? It's a difficult reality to imagine, especially since Brooks no longer talks about this period of his career. When cross-dressing gutter punk David Johansen turned himself into Buster Poindexter and became a hundred times more famous than he was as a member of the "important" New York Dolls, the initial a.s.sumption was that the new alter ego was the person he actually wanted to be. As it turns out, the only part Johansen liked was the money (he would eventually tell National Public Radio that the 1987 song