Prefab Sprout, The Case Of

Musical consumerism is deadly business. I can think of little else these days. I see reality TV shows and some I watch eagerly and there is a moment when I think I can blog about them. Later I act on that impulse to my discredit. Even a reality television show perpetuates musical consumerism in some small way, funding hacks and their inane side-projects for one possible example. I am confident the world would be a worse place without professional musicians. There is really no choice, and therefore the best choice is pretending that you don't have a choice. Hence Prefab Sprout, who are so intelligent as to be tunefully respectful of your lack of choice.

When at least one part of a song is done compellingly it is interesting at least. Novelty of course is important, but not always crucial. Authenticity is severely hyped at times, and there's almost no point in wanting to win that fight – it must be regarded as unessential, because even good songs get played out, and you've got to replace them with some tune or lyric that sticks in your mind. Obviously a good mix of tune and lyric are necessary, and which is more important is subjective if not rhetorical.

So You Want to Listen to Some 80s Pop?

Pop music in the nineteen-eighties is like pop music in general: a minefield. You no doubt know this, but you see that what with half your friends buying turntables in the last eighteen months, and other half still listening to niche genres you don't fully understand, and the third half has an habit of listening to unbearable racket and weak shit. In other words you are burdened by the fact that you enjoy music snobbishness and general one-upmanship. That kind of skullduggery is going to get you pwned, and the secret weapon, despite recent and nauseating 80s worship, is 80s pop. In an excruciating write-up, I will suggest some 80s pop cards you can hide up your album sleeves.

It is a double-edged sword of course. If you are looking for musical weapons, you're already clearly a music bastard. People no doubt gather just to whisper in awed tones about your musical unorthodoxies and iconoclastic statements. I like to imagine that I am impartial. There was a diseased time when I cared a little too much about what I listened to, and felt sharply any criticism of my musical taste. Then I realized it was all a consumerist defense reflex and let it go. Mostly. You never come all the way back from musical snobbery.